The Devil's Feather - Minette Walters [43]
“I’m not like you. I don’t have to be admired all the time.”
“That’s not fair.”
She gave an indifferent shrug.
“What’s wrong with showing you’ve got talent? You’re good, Jess.”
“I know,” she said bluntly, “but what makes you think I need you to tell me? How much do you know about filming? How much do you know about weasels? Anything?” She gave a dismissive laugh when I shook my head.
“I was only saying what I honestly felt.”
“No, you weren’t.” She opened the back door and ushered me out. “You were being patronising—probably because you feel guilty about listening to Madeleine. In future you’d do better to keep your mouth shut.”
It was like walking on eggshells. I couldn’t see what I’d done wrong except compliment her. “Would it have been better if I’d said it was crap?”
“Of course not.” She flicked me a scathing glance. “I hate liars even more than I hate arselickers.”
From:
connie.burns@uknet.com
Sent:
Wed 21/07/04 13:54
To:
alan.collins@manchester-police.co.uk
Subject:
contact details
* * *
Dear Alan,
Journalists are notoriously jealous of their stories. I don’t trust my boss not to cut me out of the O’Connell/MacKenzie loop and pass off all my research as his! I’ll let you know my address and phone number as soon as I’ve found somewhere permanent to stay. At the moment I’m living out of a suitcase.
It was ever thus!
Best wishes,
Connie
PS. I can’t believe how bad the mobile signals are in this country! I think I’ve signed up to the wrong server!
9
JESS AND I parted on superficially good terms but there was no invitation to return, and she gave a noncommittal nod when I said I hoped to see her at Barton House. It was all very confusing. Rather than go straight home, I drove to the village to see if Peter was home. When I spotted his car in the road, I pulled in behind it and rang his doorbell. I had second thoughts while I waited, mostly to do with rumour-mongering and disloyalty, but I was too curious to give in to them.
“Are you busy?” I asked when he opened the door. “Can you give me ten minutes?”
“Is it a medical visit or a social one?”
“Social.”
He stepped back. “Come in, but you’ll have to watch while I eat my lunch. There’s only enough for one, I’m afraid, but I can rustle up a glass of wine or a cup of coffee.”
I followed him across the hall. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“When did you last eat?”
The question caught me off-balance. “This morning?” I suggested.
He eyed me thoughtfully before pulling out a chair. As always in my company, he was careful to give me space, stepping away before inviting me to sit down. “Take a pew.”
“Thank you.”
He resumed his place at the other side of the table. Lunch was a microwaved pasta meal, still in its plastic container. “I use a plate when I know people are coming,” he said, picking up his fork. “Anyone who rings the bell on spec doesn’t count. Has Jess been bringing you food from the farm?”
I nodded.
“Do you eat it?”
I nodded again.
He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t make an issue of it. “So what can I tell you about Jess? Which particular part of that extraordinarily irritating personality do you want me to explain?”
I smiled. “How do you know it’s Jess I’m interested in?”
He filled his fork. “I was two hundred yards behind you when you turned in through her gate. Did you find her at home?”
“I watched her grease her baler, then she took me inside and showed me around. Presumably you’ve been in the house?”
“Too often to count.”
“So you’ve seen the corridor of family photos?”
“Yes.”
“The big room with the screens?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
He didn’t answer until he’d dealt with the last of his food and pushed the container aside. “I change my mind from time to time but, on the whole, I think it’s a good thing Jess never finished art school. She was at the end of her first year when the accident happened, and she had to jack it in to take on the farm. She still regrets it…but she’d have wasted three years if she’d stayed.”
I was unreasonably disappointed. If anyone could