Playing the Game. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_77056eab-11e7-5205-a3d0-9d3eca0cc910">THREE
Annette went to see her sister on Friday morning. She usually spent part of Saturday with her, but this week she was going to Kent to make decisions about Christopher Delaware’s paintings and the auction of them.
Laurie was waiting for her, full of smiles and eagerness, happy to see her. As she usually was. There wasn’t a day when Laurie hadn’t welcomed her with a loving, wide-open heart and open arms, her pleasure at being with her reflected on her face. Laurie. The real beauty in the family with her green eyes and golden-red hair. Laurie, who had wanted to be an actress when she was a child and had been cheated of the chance.
The two of them sat together in front of the fire, in Laurie’s den in her flat in Chesham Place, just around the corner from their home in Eaton Square. It pleased Laurie that she and Marius lived nearby because it gave her a sense of security; Annette felt the same. If ever Laurie needed her urgently or in any kind of emergency, she could be there within minutes on foot.
Almost immediately she told her sister about the phone call from Malcolm Stevens earlier that week, and how he had brought up the name of Hilda Crump.
Laurie listened, her face calm, the expression in her intelligent eyes changing ever so slightly by the time Annette finished.
There was a small silence, and Annette realized Laurie was running everything through her mind in that analytical way she had. Finally Laurie said softly, ‘I hope you’re not worrying about this.’
‘I have been. Well, a little bit. It was such a jolt, hearing that name out of the blue, and I couldn’t help wondering who could possibly be looking for Hilda Crump.’
‘Yes. Who? Yes, indeed who? And also why? But listen, it doesn’t really matter. Hilda went away years ago, she’ll never be found, not unless you break the promise you made. You’re not going to do that, are you?’
‘No, I’m not. Obviously.’
‘We’ll never know who’s looking for her anyway, not unless the private detective informs Malcolm, and he then tells us. But whoever it is doesn’t matter. Hilda’s not available and we can’t give anybody any information.’
‘But we were so involved with her, we were privy to so much.’
‘Only you and I know that, and it happened long ago. Over twenty years, Annette. Believe me, it doesn’t matter.’
Annette leaned back in the chair, staring at her younger sister. ‘If that’s the case, all right.’
‘There’s no question in my mind. Just please stop worrying, because if you don’t I’ll start worrying about you.’ Laurie laughed. ‘Now, please tell me more about the party. On the phone you’ve been awfully sketchy. I’m longing to hear everything.’ Her eagerness was reflected in her eyes.
Annette said, ‘I wish you’d been there, enjoyed it with us, Laurie. I can’t understand why you were so adamant about not coming, and neither can Marius. He wanted you to be with us as much as I did.’
‘In this? In this wheelchair? Don’t be silly, I’d have been a useless encumbrance. An inconvenience.’
‘Don’t say that! You’re none of those things. We really did hope you’d change your mind, that you would join us, and you know I never lie to you.’
‘I’m sorry, don’t get upset. And I do know how sincere you were about my coming. But I see things differently to you at times, Annette. I didn’t want to be a burden. And look, I didn’t want you to have questions to answer later. About me. People asking you why I was in a wheelchair, et cetera, et cetera. All that nonsense. I’ve told you before, you don’t need a cripple hanging on to your apron strings—’
‘Don’t say that, you know how I hate you to say that!’ Annette exclaimed, her voice rising.
‘But I am a cripple, no two ways about it. I was in a bad car crash and now I’m a paraplegic.’
‘You’ve lost the use of your legs, yes, but you survived. The others died, and you’re still a beautiful woman. Intelligent, charming, and clever, and you are not an embarrassment to me. Nor to Marius. Besides, you’ve been with us on many occasions with friends and—’
‘Very close friends,’ Laurie interjected.
Annette continued, ‘And there’s never been any problem.’
‘That’s quite true. The birthday party was different, though, you’d invited two hundred people, and they’d all accepted. I knew it would be a heavy-duty evening for you.’
‘I would have put you at my table, or with Marius, and you know so many of our close friends, like Malcolm and David, Johnny Davenport. You’d have been perfectly fine.’
Laurie smiled. ‘I know. Don’t go on about it. Please. Look, I preferred not to come.’ Laurie made a face. ‘It would have been quite an effort for me, actually.’
‘Are you all right? You’re not feeling ill, are you?’
‘No, I’m not ill. Listen, it would have been a bit tough for me, that’s all, the crowds, lots of people I don’t know.’ She gave her sister another loving smile, her eyes reassuring. Laurie had not gone because she had not wanted to be a reminder of the bad days, not on this particularly special night in Annette’s life. But then a name from the past had done that. Unfortunately. Taking a deep breath, Laurie said, ‘Please tell me about the party. And don’t you dare miss out one detail.’
There were not many people about as Annette walked next to Laurie in the motorized wheelchair, crossing Eaton Square, making for their flat on the far corner. But then it was cold, breezy, a typical early March day, with a hint of rain in the air. People stayed home on days like this.
They were moving along at a fairly quick pace, both wanting to get inside, into the warmth. She glanced up at one moment and was startled to see that the sky had changed in the last hour she had been at her sister’s flat. It had become a deeper, brighter blue.
‘We’ve suddenly got a Renoir sky,’ she exclaimed, glancing at her sister. ‘It was pale, almost grey, earlier.’
Laurie lifted her eyes, and nodded. ‘Yes, it is that lovely blue he used for his own skies and bodies of water, and frequently for the dresses he painted on his incomparable women.’ Swivelling her head, she looked up at Annette, and smiled. ‘Only you would call it a Renoir sky.’
‘I know. But then he is my favourite Impressionist.’
‘And mine. And of course Rembrandt’s a favourite now! Let’s face it, he’s a painter who has been lucky for you. Does Christopher Delaware have any more tucked away in his house?’
‘If only.’ Annette laughed.
‘He might find some other treasure put away, you know,’ Laurie ventured. ‘Collectors like his peculiar uncle often bought paintings and simply stashed them away, hid them. Because they didn’t want anyone else to look at them.’
‘That sometimes did happen, and it still does. However, I imagine that by now Christopher has scoured that house from top to bottom.’
‘You bet he has.’ Laurie suddenly shivered, turned up the collar of her coat, brought her scarf to her chin, fumbling with the scarf through her cashmere gloves.
Annette, who missed nothing when it came to her sister’s wellbeing, asked swiftly, ‘Are you feeling the cold?’
‘No, not too much. And I’m glad to be out and about with you. Thank you for taking the day off to spend it with me.’
‘I’m happy to be with you. A whole day with you is one of my real luxuries.’
Her sister smiled at this comment, snuggled into her coat, and let her gaze wander around