Robyn Donald - Mistresses - Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It knew everything.’

I was crying as I said it, and he reached out and held me close. I put my arms about him and we sat there for a while, comforting each other and mourning what we’d had and lost.

JUST as I’d feared, Jack insisted on having the party. Grandad began planning the food, but Jack managed tactfully to steer him away.

‘I don’t think beans on toast will quite meet the case,’ he said.

‘He can do other things.’ I defended Grandad. ‘Sardines on toast, cheese on toast, mushrooms on toast.’

‘I think I’ll stick to my catering firm.’

For a few days we didn’t see him. He was spending his nights at the house he nominally shared with Grace. Grandad became sentimental.

‘Knight in shining armour,’ he declared. ‘He won’t stay here in case he compromises you.’

‘Grandad, come into the twenty-first century,’ I begged. ‘Nobody thinks like that any more.’

‘What else could it be?’

I could imagine another reason. The night Jack and I had talked, we’d got closer than we’d meant to. Now I reckoned he was embarrassed to be with me in case I started hoping for more than he had to offer.

But I didn’t say that to Grandad. I just murmured something about his snoring, he hotly denied that he ever snored, and we left it at that.

Jack returned unexpectedly one evening when Grandad had gone to bed. He looked harassed.

‘Grace won’t let the subject alone and it’s doing my head in,’ he groaned.

‘The subject being me?’

‘You, and my foolishness in getting mixed up…etc. etc.’

‘Put your feet up. I’ll make you some supper.’

‘It’s not beans on toast, is it?’ he asked in alarm.

I laughed. ‘No. Scrambled eggs, because they’re nice and light.’

We sat down at the table together and he ate with relish.

‘Grace laid on a fantastic meal tonight,’ he said, ‘and I could hardly eat any of it for the indigestion she was giving me.’

‘Poor Grace,’ I said.

He stared at me. ‘That’s the last thing I expected you to say.’

‘Well, she sent you to my rescue, however little she meant to. Maybe I owe her one. I can’t help seeing that she’s scared and miserable. You’re all she has. The days when you really did need her were probably her happiest ones and she’s trying to keep some part of them alive.’

‘But why can’t she see that she’s doing it the wrong way?’

‘The really sad thing is that she probably does see it,’ I mused. ‘Grace isn’t a fool. She must know that when she nags you she drives you further away, but she doesn’t know how to do anything else. It gets her your attention, even if you do storm out afterwards. But then she knows that she’s irritated you and she gets more scared, and nags harder, and so it becomes a vicious circle.’

‘So what do I do?’

‘I don’t know. But maybe if she felt that you understood—’

‘I can’t be understanding when she starts abusing you,’ he said firmly.

‘Then change the subject. Get her to talk about something else, and be nice about that.’

He shook his head in a kind of wonder. ‘If Grace only knew that you were fighting her corner.’

‘Don’t tell her, for heaven’s sake!’ I begged. ‘That would really upset her.’

He grinned. I poured him some more tea.

‘How are the party arrangements going on?’ he asked.

‘Everyone in my family has accepted,’ I said, in such a tense voice that he looked at me askance.

‘You really disapprove, don’t you?’

‘I can’t see why you’re doing it. I’m just going to be embarrassed out of my mind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve heard Grandad on the phone to them. You can’t imagine the stories he’s telling.’

He gave me a wide grin.

‘Nonsense. Of course I can imagine. I know him by now. He’s so much like Grandpa Nick that it’s weird.’

‘But you don’t know my family. The first thing they ask themselves is, “Where’s the profit?”’

‘Very wise. I ask myself that every day.’

‘But they’ll be trying to profit from you. They’ll look at you and see rich pickings. Jack, they’ll try to fleece you.’

‘Darl—Della, I spend my days with people who are trying to fleece me. I can take care of myself. Stop treating me like an idiot.’

‘All right,’ I said crossly. ‘I’ve tried to warn you but you won’t be warned. And when one of them has sold you a non-existent gold mine you’ll know I was right.’

‘I can add it to my other non-existent gold mines. Anyway, you never know. I might sell them one.’

‘I wish you’d be serious.’

‘Now you’re sounding like Grace. Does it occur to either of you that I’ve had enough of being serious? I’m ready to be something else. I’m just not quite sure what.’

He fell silent, and I had a feeling that he’d floated away from me. He was looking inside himself, or out at some far distant horizon. Or both at once. Certainly his voice had become dreamy in a way that didn’t sound like his normal self.

‘Well, at least when you’ve met them you’ll know the worst,’ I said.

‘Della, when will you understand that I don’t define you by your family? And you shouldn’t define yourself that way either.’

‘I don’t.’

‘You do, otherwise you wouldn’t make such efforts to hide them. They are what they are, and you are what you are, and it’s not the same. You’re innocent.’

‘I’m still facing a jail sentence,’ I pointed out.

‘Always assuming that it gets to court. The owners may be satisfied with having the bracelet back.’

‘Why should they be? They haven’t been so far. According to Mr Wendell they’re dead keen for the police to prosecute. He found out that they had something stolen before and the thief got away. So now they’ve got hold of me they’re not going to let go.’

‘They might still change their minds and withdraw the charges.’

‘Jack, it’s a crime to nobble witnesses. You could end up behind bars yourself.’

‘ Nobble witnesses? What an extraordinary suggestion!’

‘I’m sorry. I thought that was what you were talking about.’

‘Not a bit of it. If I—That is, nobbling witnesses is very crude, and I prefer subtlety.’ Then he changed the subject abruptly. ‘What are you going to wear for the party?’

‘I’ve still got one of those cocktail dresses you bought me. It’s blue silk, very nice.’

‘Only I was thinking—’

‘I know, but there’s no need, thank you.’

There was a touch of desperation in his voice, ‘You won’t take anything from me, will you?’

‘How can you say that when I’m actually taking so much from you?’

He smiled, but it seemed forced. ‘Yes, you’re right. Let’s leave it.’

On the day of the party he was home early, and noticed me at a loose end.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got nothing to do,’ I complained.

‘So I should hope. Leave it to the caterers.’

‘Anyway, Grandad’s happy.’

‘They haven’t let him touch anything, have they?’ he asked, aghast.

‘He’s being allowed to cut cheese, that’s all. As long as he’s busy he’s happy.’

‘Della, how long can you go on subordinating everything to his needs?’

‘I’ve told you—he deserves it.’

‘Yes, sure. He looked after you and you’re looking after him, but he didn’t come forward to get you out of this mess, did he?’

‘Because I told him not to.’

‘The hell with that. Do you think I’d leave you to rot because you told me to?’