Page 68 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

‘Hey . . . fuck . . .’ His voice was little more than an exhalation.

‘Your language has really gone downhill, you know? I used to think you were such a gentleman.’

But he didn’t even realise I was speaking. Head up, he was looking over the hedge towards the lit windows at the front of the house. ‘So who is he . . . what is this about?’

‘Ben?’ I touched his shoulder. Slowly his gaze came down to mine.

‘Saskia is . . .’ He raised his chin again. ‘She’s talking on the telephone. Over there, in that room to the left.’

I peered through the branches. Ben was a good six inches taller than me and I couldn’t follow his eyeline but I could see a dim figure moving around inside the house. Pacing, it looked like.

‘She’s talking to . . . hang on . . . someone called Dave. Who’s following . . . who? Turn this way, bitch, oh yeah, following Alex. That’s her husband isn’t it?’

‘Following? Like a fan you mean?’

But Ben couldn’t hear me. He was too busy listening in his own way to Saskia.

‘She wants photographs. Proof. Jem? Where are you going?’

I turned so that he could read my lips. ‘She’s got it in for me and Rosie already. I’m not going to let her get started on poor Alex as well. This has all gone far enough.’

He jogged to catch me up. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘No idea. We’ll make it up as we go along, shall we?’

In front of the main door I hesitated for just a second, then raised my hand to the huge bronze knocker which bore more scrollwork than a medieval library.

‘Jemima?’ Saskia’s face peered through the gap that the security chain allowed. ‘What on earth are you doing here at this time of night? I didn’t realise you were usually up so late.’

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘No. Well, yes, but only a bit. All right, half a bottle. Ish. And it was only 12%, that rosé stuff that they sell in the shop.’

‘Ah, yes. Cheap plonk.’ Saskia enunciated the words to give them an extra helping of disgust. ‘What did you want to talk about? I presume the state of the nation and the environment, the sort of thing people like you rabbit on about when you’ve had too much alcohol.’

‘No. Important stuff.’ My palms were sweaty now the initial adrenaline rush had worn off. ‘Like, why you’re trying to work Rosie into a nervous breakdown and then burning her stuff. Why you’ve told the York Board of Trade not to touch my things.’

Saskia made a dismissive gesture through the gap. It was truncated by the front door. ‘Your paranoia is really not attractive.’

‘All right. How about, why you’re having your own husband followed? By a man called Dave? Just what the hell is the matter with you? ’

The door closed for a second then reopened with the chain off. ‘You’d better come inside.’

We walked into the impressive hall with its huge oak staircase winding up to the first floor. The walls dripped with tapestry and hangings, and tiny ornamental tables held objets d’art. Saskia’s personal taste seemed to run to Hollywood Medieval.

She led us through into an office and sat on an overstuffed sofa, knees together and her hands indicating that Ben should sit beside her. I, evidently, could stand wherever I wanted. ‘Now. You might as well get this out of your system, Jemima. Tell me what you’re thinking then you can leave and we can both get on with our lives.’ She threw a little glance at Ben.

I opened my mouth, but before any words could come out the telephone on the desk started ringing. Saskia gave a little start but sat firm, her eyes watchful, as though the handset might begin to smoulder.

‘You’d better get it.’ Ben gave her arm a nudge. He must have picked up what was happening from her body language. ‘Didn’t you tell Dave to ring as soon as he knew anything? He knows you’re waiting for his call.’

Her expression seemed to be under some tight control, but she couldn’t stop disbelief from seeping through. ‘How did you know? Is this room bugged?’

I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Yeah, ’cos we’re a couple of top professional spies. Just answer the phone.’

Reluctantly she stood and picked up the sleek black handset. ‘Hello?’ Then she clamped her lips together, pushing the blood from them until they looked like a pair of albino slugs. ‘Uhuh,’ she said a couple of times. ‘I see.’ And then. ‘She’s in his car? Yes, thank you, but you can forget about the pictures. I know who it is now.’

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