Adrian Magson - No Tears for the Lost

‘Sit down, Miss Gavin.’ The invitation was crisp and authoritative, promptly shooting down in flames any thoughts Riley might have had about sweet, defenceless old ladies. And up close, she judged her age to be somewhere in the late fifties. This was a woman accustomed to being in charge, no matter how saddened by the hand that fate had decided to deal her. She reminded Riley of a young-ish Nancy Regan, only without the former First Lady’s brittle outer casing. She gave a signal to the maid, who had slipped into the room without a sound. ‘You’ll take tea?’

‘Yes, please,’ Riley agreed, since it didn’t seem to be in any doubt, and sat on a hard, low-backed couch which must have been reserved for short-stay visitors. She hoped she didn’t tumble over the back and disgrace herself.

Lady Myburghe went back to her reading and sipping, which Riley decided meant she wasn’t supposed to speak until tea was poured. She thought about Palmer and what he would have done if he’d been here. No doubt he’d have had this old biddy eating out of his hand.

After an age, the maid returned and poured tea, including one for herself. Then she sat in a chair by the window and studiously ignored them both.

‘Don’t mind Jenny,’ said Lady Susan. ‘She barely understands English and acts as my chaperone. So. Frank Palmer speaks very highly of you. He says I should help you.’ A faint softening of her features made Riley wonder if there was a member of the Myburghe clan that Frank Palmer hadn’t made a good impression on.

‘Frank and I sometimes work together,’ she explained. ‘As we are at the moment.’

‘But you’re a journalist.’ The statement came out with a faint crackle of accusation, and even Jenny turned and stared at her, no doubt the word a familiar one.

‘Yes.’ Palmer must have told her.

The older woman’s eyes were like twin points of jet, and Riley wondered how many times Sir Kenneth had been fixed with them for some transgression or another, before he finally developed an impenetrable outer casing.

‘Very well. Palmer said I should trust you. What do you wish to know?’

‘It’s about your husband,’ she said, trying not to clink her cup and saucer together.

‘Ex-husband,’ Lady Susan dropped the magazine on the floor as if signifying what she thought of him ‘What has he done now?’ Her tone was of the much-put-upon wife waiting for the latest piece of bad news about her husband’s drunken debauchery.

‘I was wondering why… why you left him?’

Just for a second, Lady Susan looked as if she’d swallowed a live frog, and the maid jumped as if Riley had made an obscene suggestion. So much, thought Riley, for the maid not having much English. A large carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked quietly away, as if counting down the seconds until she was hung, drawn and quartered and thrown into the gutter to rot for having breached a clear rule of etiquette.

‘Jenny. Go and see to dinner, will you? I think I might dine early this evening.’ She sat and watched her maid depart, then looked at Riley with an expression of cool distaste. ‘That’s a highly personal question.’

Riley nodded. ‘I agree. It is.’

Surprisingly, the other woman almost smiled, and sat back in her chair. ‘You were at the wedding reception, weren’t you — with Palmer?’

‘Yes.’

‘You may well have formed the opinion that my ex-husband is a very capable person. He’s a good diplomat and administrator. He’s also extremely clever, articulate and astute at dealing with awkward situations — especially political ones. An ideal person, in fact, for the posts he has held.’

Riley nodded and sipped her tea. It was fragrant, light and very refreshing. Darjeeling? Earl Grey? But definitely not Tesco’s Finest. What was this line of talk building up to? She immediately had her answer.

‘Unfortunately, he’s also a fool and a gambler. The two rarely mix well.’ Lady Susan plucked a hair from her lap and flicked it away. ‘I could tolerate the foolishness, but not the gambling.’ She swivelled her eyes towards her guest. ‘You know what I mean by foolishness.’

‘Umm… I suppose.’ Riley could hazard a guess, but she didn’t think uttering the words ‘other women’ was necessary.

‘Good.’

‘So you divorced him because he gambled?’

‘No. I divorced him because he lost.’

‘Oh.’ Riley felt an urge to laugh outright at the directness of this statement, but decided it might be misinterpreted.

‘Do you gamble, Miss Gavin?’

The look accompanying the question would have melted Riley into the carpet if she’d said yes, so she shook her head and thanked the stars for never having picked up the habit. She was sure the other woman would have seen through a lie. ‘No. It’s never been my thing. Didn’t he try to change your mind?’

‘Miss Gavin, after all the years… it was too late. Besides,’ she smiled for the first time with what looked like genuine humour, ‘when I make up my mind, it would take far more than anything Kenneth could do to change it.’ She shrugged slim shoulders. ‘He was too involved in his work, anyway. I knew what it would be like right from the start, but instead of improving, it got worse. It became a vital form of release for him, I suppose.’ She suddenly looked at Riley and said, ‘Why am I telling you this?’ The idea seemed to genuinely surprise her.

‘Perhaps because you needed to?’

She smiled. ‘Yes. Maybe you’re right.’

‘When you said he lost, was it a lot?’

The older woman’s eyes dimmed and she looked away, as if trying to decide whether to answer or not. When she spoke it was with a sigh. ‘In the beginning, when we were first in Colombia, not too much. He’d lose some, which depressed him. Then he’d have a big win and everything would be rosy. Then another loss, followed by others, then a win or two. It’s hardly a unique story. The wins, of course, never quite matched the losses, and in the end he lost a great deal. Far too much.’ She looked directly at Riley, but didn’t elaborate, and Riley guessed she had probably never spoken about this before. It must have taken her a great deal of effort to do so now.

‘He must have won recently, though. The work on the house… the wedding.’

‘Palmer warned me you might ask about that. He said I should help you if I could, but that the outcome might not be pleasant. Is that what you think — that it won’t be pleasant?’

‘To be honest, I don’t know.’ Riley was surprised, both by Palmer speaking for her and at Lady Susan’s evident regard for his opinion.

‘Palmer’s a strange man,’ the other woman continued, as if Riley had spoken out loud. ‘Very tough to those who don’t know him, but not so much to those who do. He was close to my daughter, at one time.’ She took a deep breath and her next words came out in a rush. ‘My family has no money, Miss Gavin. Not a bean. This house is held in trust, and will go to my daughters when I die. I can’t sell, if that’s what you’re wondering, but I can’t afford to live elsewhere, either. A stately prison is, let me tell you, still a prison. Ask the royal family.’

There was no mention of her son, Riley noted immediately. She was tempted to jump in and ask why, but decided to leave it for the time being. There were other things to find out. ‘What about Colebrooke?’

‘A rotting pile of stones into which Kenneth is pouring money at a demented rate.’ She raised a perceptive eyebrow. ‘And you’re wondering how can he afford it if he gambles so unsuccessfully. Well, I wish I knew.’ She put down her cup and rearranged the folds of her dress. ‘I’ve never told anyone else, but it’s one of the other reasons I decided to leave him.’