‘In the meantime, I’ll phone Nell to see whether she can help with the sketch,’ said Michael.
As he dialled Nell’s number, he considered that hesitation before referring to Nell as his ‘partner’. Why had he done that? But he knew already. It was because the word, perfectly acceptable as it was, somehow no longer seemed right or even adequate to describe what Nell had become to him. Partner, probably from the old French word par?onier, meaning a sharing, which was fine, but not when you remembered that the word also had as its root the Latin partire, to divide. Any kind of division from Nell was an appalling prospect. But how would she feel about forging a permanent link? He put this idea aside, to be dealt with later, and dialled her number.
She answered almost at once, but Michael had the impression that she had been deeply absorbed in something and was mentally blinking to adjust to a sudden ingress of light from a different world.
But she said, ‘I’m glad to hear you. What’s been happening?’
Michael explained about Luisa and the request that he stay until the solicitor could get to the house and seal it up.
‘I’m sorry about Luisa,’ said Nell. ‘But I’m glad you were there and that she didn’t lie helplessly on her own.’
‘Yes. But Nell, the thing now is—’
‘—you want the Holzminden sketch appraising.’
‘I mentioned you to the solicitor – just saying you might point them in the direction of someone who specializes in that kind of stuff.’
‘I expect I could dredge up a couple of names. Or – do you want me to come out to the wilds of Norfolk to take a preliminary look?’
‘Yes. No. Hell’s teeth, I don’t know. It’s a bit far. Obviously, you couldn’t come just for a couple of hours, then go straight back. But I don’t know if this solicitor will be able to get here today, and I might have to stay until tomorrow—’
‘Would you like some company?’
‘It’s a gloomy old place,’ said Michael evasively.
‘But if I were to come,’ said Nell, ‘we wouldn’t need to actually stay in the house, presumably? Is the road clear yet?’
‘It was supposed to be cleared by midday, so it should be all right now.’
‘All right,’ said Nell, in the voice that indicated she had made a decision. ‘Here’s a suggestion. I could travel out there straight after lunch. But I won’t drive – I should think the train will be just as fast, or equally slow, and it would mean I could travel back with you tomorrow.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Also—’
‘What?’
‘Also,’ said Nell, and Michael heard the smile in her voice, ‘if I’m on a train I can carry on reading some letters written from Holzminden camp in 1917.’
‘Is that what Owen helped you find in the Bodleian? It’s not Hugbert Edreich by any chance, is it?’
‘Yes. Yes. How do you know about Hugbert?’
‘I won’t tell you now, it’ll take too long and my battery’s running a bit low. And don’t chuckle like that, you shameless hussy, you know quite well I mean the phone battery. Would you really travel today, though? What about the shop?’
‘Henry Jessel or Godfrey at the bookshop could have the keys and deal with anything urgent.’
‘Ah, the quaint old system of barter, still practised amid the timeless cobblestones of Quire Court.’
‘Don’t knock it. I sold two first editions for Godfrey last week when he went to that antiquarian book fair in Cambridge. And a set of silver Victorian photograph frames for Henry the week before that. So I’ll find out train times and phone you back,’ said Nell. ‘Then we can decide how practical it’s looking.’
‘While you do that, I’ll make sure the tree’s been cleared.’
She rang back within ten minutes, saying there was a train that would reach Norwich shortly before six o’clock. ‘It’s a bit of a circuitous route, and I have to change trains in London which is slightly irritating, but the journey’s no slower than driving would be.’
‘I could pick you up in Norwich. I think it’s about forty minutes’ drive from here.’ Michael supposed the satnav would take him from Fosse House to Norwich without too much difficulty.
‘No, it’s all right, there’s apparently one of those little local trains that bumbles out of Norwich and into a tiny local station,’ said Nell. ‘I don’t think it’s much more than fifteen minutes from your village.’
‘I’ll pick you up at the bumbly station, then.’ Finding that would probably be a lot easier than finding Norwich, but Nell was ahead of him.
She said, ‘Why don’t I just hop in a taxi when I get there and come straight out to Fosse House?’
‘Better still, why don’t I book the taxi from here,’ said Michael. ‘If it’s one of those minuscule stations there isn’t likely to be anything as grand as a taxi rank. I can easily find a local firm in the phone book.’
‘Good idea. I’ll give you the train times.’
‘And you may as well go straight to the local pub – it’s called the Bell.’ There was no need to tell Nell yet about seeing Hugbert last night, or about the letter he had found with Hugbert’s plans to return the following night. He would tell her later, but in the meantime, he would definitely prefer to be out of the house before night fell. He said, ‘I was booked in there anyway, so there’ll be a room available.’
‘So we won’t be spending the night with the ghosts?’ said Nell. ‘What a pity. I quite wanted to meet them.’
‘Not these ghosts, you don’t,’ said Michael. ‘At least, not unless it’s broad daylight. Oh, and Nell—’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘It’s mutual,’ she said, and Michael heard the smile in her voice before she rang off.
Nineteen