Nancy nodded. Mark had told her most of this. "I wonder which of them thought of it."
"Who knows? One thing's for sure: you and Mark weren't supposed to be here. They wanted the Colonel alone and thinking Leo was behind it. Martin reckons Fox was gonna kill the old boy, anyway, so there wouldn't have been a witness."
"What did Julian say?"
Bella grinned. "Nothing. Just shat himself when Monroe told him how many people they think Fox murdered. The reporters don't know the half of it, Nance. The tally's up to thirty so far… and rising. Fox was one sadistic bastard. The cops reckon every sodding brush in his bus represented a person as well as a fox. It makes you think, don't it?"
Nancy took another sip of Dutch courage. "Do you see Vera?"
"No, but everyone who visits the nursing home hears what she has to say." She reached over to take Nancy's hand again. "There's something else she's saying, darlin', and I'd rather you heard it from me than on the grapevine. I know Mark's told you about the photos the police found in the Lodge, the ones of Fox and Elizabeth when they were in their teens. Seems like he hooked up with the travelers that came to mend Mr. Squires's fences. It don't mean nothing as far as you're concerned… but Vera talks about you being Fox's daughter quite a lot."
Nancy swilled the champagne in her glass and watched the bubbles pop. Mark had told her in January. He, too, had said the photographs meant nothing but she'd spent hours on the Internet researching brown-blue alleles, blue-green alleles, dominant gene colors and color variations. She had expected confirmation that it was impossible for blue-eyed parents to have a brown-eyed child. Instead she had learned the opposite.
She guessed Mark had done the same research, because he had asked her once or twice if there was anything she wanted from Elizabeth. They both knew what he was talking about, but each time Nancy had said no. He never pushed it, and she was grateful for that. He understood that in this one instance uncertainty was more bearable than certainty.
Now it was too late. Elizabeth had died in April, having made her peace with her father but not with the child she gave away. Her only gift to Nancy, other than life, was a handwritten note saying: "I have so much to regret, but I don't regret giving you to John and Mary Smith. It was the best thing I ever did in my life. With love, Elizabeth."
"Well, let's hope Vera's wrong," she said lightly, "otherwise I've inherited a brain tumor on one side and cirrhosis on the other."
"Don't be an idiot," said Bella roundly. "Cirrhosis ain't inherited… it's self-inflicted… and you know Fox ain't your dad. Yours was a tall, handsome sod with brown eyes, a good brain, and a kind heart. Anything else'd be going against nature."
Nancy smiled. "So how are things with Martin?"
"Brilliant," said Bella, accepting the change of subject easily. "He's in there, as well." She nodded toward the drawing room. "Leo, too. They're all dying to see you, darlin'. Are you gonna let me take you in now?"
Nancy felt a terrible shyness creep over her. They were all expecting far too much. Apart from Mark, she hadn't seen any of them for nearly a year and she'd never met Leo. "Maybe I should go out again and come through the front door?"
She felt a coat being draped across her shoulders. "I have a better idea," said Mark, taking her hand and leading her into the corridor. "We'll go for a walk and blow the cobwebs away. In half an hour we'll take a discreet look through the drawing-room window and see how everyone's getting on. How does that sound?"
Nancy relaxed immediately. "As good as it did last time," she said simply.
Minette Walters
