The Devil's Feather - Minette Walters [84]
“Marianne…It’s Madeleine Harrison-Wright. I’ve been meaning to ring for ages. Peter’s taken me to task for being naughty”—a playful laugh—“he says I shouldn’t have broken Jess’s confidence in the way I did. I do apologize. It’s difficult to know what’s for the best sometimes.” A pause. “A lot of it was Mummy’s fault of course…it’s not fair to play with people’s affections…pretending to love them one moment and showing how bored you are the next. It always leads to problems in the long run. Still…I said more than I should. Will you forgive me? Peter’s talking about having a supper party for me when I come down next week. Will I see you there?” Her voice faded into another little laugh. “I think I’ve been cut off…I’m so bad with these machines. Call me back if nothing I’ve said makes sense. My number’s…”
As far as I was concerned it made perfect sense. Roughly translated, it meant: “Peter and I are so intimate that: a) he talks about his patients; b) he has permission to tick me off for naughtiness; c) he repeated what you said to him; and d) he’s planning to wine and dine me, but won’t be inviting you. While making a token apology for breaking confidences, I am also confirming that what I said when we met is true. Jess has serious problems. PS. I know exactly how to use these machines but I think it’s more attractive to laugh and pretend I don’t.”
It made me question Peter’s role again. Were he and Madeleine genuinely as close as she was suggesting? And if so, was he two-timing Jess? What sort of relationship did he and Jess have? I could well believe Peter was a serial philanderer on the evidence of the two nurses he’d bedded while he was still married to the inept ex-wife, but I found it harder to believe he’d cheat on Jess with her worst enemy.
It may have been that my brain worked better on a full stomach but, looking at Madeleine’s photograph, I thought how all the artistry was Jess’s. The setting. The lighting. The captured sweetness of Madeleine’s face. Move it on five clicks and the sun would have gone behind a cloud, Madeleine’s chin would have been buried in her collar, and the photograph would have been rather more sinister—an unrecognizable, black-coated figure against a raging sea.
“I only did it to make Lily happy…”
But why would a mother need a photograph of her daughter looking pretty? Were the other pictures unflattering? Was it the only one Lily had? I couldn’t work it out at all. I didn’t understand either why Madeleine had left it in Barton House. If it had been a portrait of me, I’d have kept it for myself. I asked Jess once if Madeleine had the negative, and she said, no, it was in a box somewhere at the farm.
“Is this the only print?”
“Yes.”
“Why doesn’t Madeleine have it in her own house?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because you took it?”
She didn’t deny it, merely added: “Lily refused to have any of Nathaniel’s stuff on her walls. I expect that had something to do with it as well.”
“Has Nathaniel ever seen this?”
“Sure.”
“What does he think of it?”
“The same as me. There’s too much sweetness in her face. It doesn’t look anything like Madeleine.”
“Why should that matter? It’s very striking…very dramatic. It’s not important who the woman is.”
Jess looked amused. “That’s why Madeleine hates it.”
15
“YOU SEEM HAPPIER,” said Jess when I returned to the kitchen. “Did you get through?”
“I didn’t try. There was a text waiting.” I put the mobile on the table in front of her so that she could read it. All fine. Ma with me. Nothing to worry about. Call soon. Dad. “I’m not sure if he wants me to phone them or vice versa, but at least they’re OK.”
“That’s good. Do you have any more of these slips in your pockets?”
“No. Why?”
“I thought I’d put them back in order for you…but there seems to be one missing.” She turned the pile towards me.