Faith - Lesley Pearse [162]
‘I drive better with a few drinks in me,’ he said. ‘Eyes like an owl’s, rapid reactions, and anyway, I came home early to be with you.’
‘You don’t drive better when you’re drunk,’ she exclaimed. ‘Haven’t you learned anything? It’s only a matter of time before you hit someone again.’
There was a sudden electric charge in the air. Despite being drunk, Charles’s eyes widened at what she’d said, Belle’s face flushed pink, and she quickly leapt up to switch the kettle on to hide her confusion.
‘I think we must all eat something,’ she said too loudly and with desperation in her voice. ‘You must be hungry, David? I could rustle up some pasta, or get a curry out of the freezer.’
There was no doubt in David’s mind that Belle had blurted out something that was not only a secret, but a sore point. But he was also certain Belle wouldn’t forget herself again that night, not even if he poured another gallon of wine down her throat. Furthermore, he knew that if he stayed he’d be dragged into their marriage problems. Charles was beyond talking, his chin was on his chest, and it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep.
‘Not for me, thank you, Belle. But it was kind of you to offer,’ he said. ‘I’m bushed after driving out from Edinburgh and then the long walk this afternoon. I’m not used to this good clean air.’ He made an elaborate yawn and got up. ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
As David drove into St Andrews the following morning, his stomach rumbling with hunger because he’d refused breakfast at Kirkmay House for fear of being subjected to another of Belle’s tirades, Stuart was in Morningside.
He had found Laura’s old shop, Imelda’s, at about nine, before it opened, and smiled at the name, guessing it was Laura’s idea. The display of two very glamorous suits in the window, along with a couple of handbags, shoes and some costume jewellery, gave no hint that they were second-hand items. He peered in though the door, noting the elegant cream and gold decor, the neat rails of clothes, and the French-boudoir-style console table and chair which acted as a counter. He was impressed.
He took himself off to get a coffee, rather surprised by how much smarter Morningside had become in the last twenty years. He remembered it as a place where impoverished gentlefolk lived, the houses dignified yet a bit shabby, but it was clear it was fast becoming a very fashionable place to live. A well-stocked delicatessen, florist’s and expensive lingerie shop were all testimony to the affluence of the new arrivals in Morningside. Even the butcher’s and the greengrocer’s looked upmarket. But he was fairly certain that it was still what his mother used to call ‘a fur coat and no knickers’ place, and Laura had clearly tapped into this when she decided to open her shop here.
He went back to Imelda’s at half past nine and as he walked in an old-fashioned bell tinkled on the door. A willowy blonde of about forty, wearing black slacks and a white shirt, was arranging some handbags on a hat stand and turned to smile at him.
‘I’m not actually open until ten, sir,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to nip out to the bank in a minute.’
‘I didn’t want to buy anything, I’m looking for Angie Turnbull,’ he said.
‘Then you’ve found her,’ she said in a soft and cultured Edinburgh accent, which was as attractive as she was.
Her smile froze as Stuart began to explain who he was and why he’d come.
‘I must stop you right there,’ she said with a wave of her hands. ‘I have absolutely nothing further to say on the subject. I gave what evidence I could at Laura’s trial, and I cannot help further.’
Stuart knew that she and Laura had been good friends, above and beyond being employer and employee. Angie had supported Laura right through her period on remand, during and just after the trial. It was she who had packed up Laura’s belongings in her flat and put them into storage, she’d continued to run this place, and Laura had given it to her because she saw no likelihood