‘I like this, Mummy.’
‘Daddy gave me that when your brother was born.’
‘Oh.’ Jane’s mother never spoke about the son she’d lost. Jane didn’t know what to say.
‘It’s an eighteen-carat gold chain, and the pearl is real.’
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘You can borrow it, if you like.’
‘No, really… I think it’s too precious.’
‘So are you,’ her father interrupted, and Jane found herself near to tears as he got up from his chair and carefully placed the chain around Jane’s neck.
Jane looked at her mother’s uncertain expression, but then Mrs Tennison took the jewellery box and closed the lid.
‘Well, you’ll always know when you wear it how much it means to me, because I’ve hardly ever worn it. It reminds me too much of holding him in my arms as a newborn baby. He would reach out to try to grab the pearl and I was always afraid the chain would break. Instead it was my heart…’
Mrs Tennison walked out with the jewellery box and her father put his arm around Jane’s shoulder.
‘She wants you to have it. I know she was going to give it to Pam for her baby, but when she miscarried it didn’t seem right.’
‘I’ll take good care of it.’
‘I’m sure you will. Who knows, maybe this cruise will give Tony and Pam a break and she’ll get pregnant again. That’d be icing on the cake.’
They had tea together and it was just after seven when Jane felt it was time to leave. Her parents were keen to get their clothes set out for their journey to Harwich in the morning. She hugged them goodbye, wished them a happy holiday and promised yet again that she’d be careful.
Jane stripped off her clothes and grabbed her robe before realising that she didn’t need to worry about bumping into Pearl on the way to the bathroom. She liked the fact she could walk round stark naked in her flat and not worry about anybody else being there. She looked at her reflection in the long wardrobe mirror, wearing just high heels, and momentarily found herself laughing. The tiny thin gold necklace, with the perfect teardrop pearl, hung down just above the curve of her breasts. She touched it lightly with her fingers, and thought of the gift from her father to her mother on the birth of her beloved little brother, who was now dead. She carefully undid the clasp and cupped it in the palm of her hand.
So many times she had wished she could be more honest and open with her parents, and be able to tell them truthfully how she was feeling and what she was going through. Over the years she had begun to understand the depth of their grief and she never wanted to subject them to any more pain regarding her chosen career. She hadn’t made a conscious decision to keep her fears and tribulations from her parents. The caring, loving side of Jane had made her always want to protect them, as if she was the parent and they were her children.
Chapter Seventeen
Jane had a light breakfast that Sunday morning, then drove to Natalie’s flat. She had bought the Sunday newspapers and had picked up the bottle of wine that Michael had given her when he had come to dinner.
Natalie had already prepared the potatoes and vegetables for their lunch, which were waiting in pans on the stove. The small chicken lay on a board and Natalie insisted on showing Jane how to make the sausage meat, herbs and lightly fried onions into stuffing, to put inside it.
‘This is always a good stuffing because the sausage meat keeps the chicken moist. And I always use a few strips of bacon to cover the wings and breast… it stops them burning.’
Jane sipped her glass of wine and nodded in approval as she watched Natalie transfer the chicken to a roasting tin and put it in the oven. Then Natalie went on to explain that the best roast potatoes were made by boiling them up first until they were fluffy round the edges. She then said that the trick was to ‘score’ them all over with a fork, then place them in a very hot baking tray with good olive oil drizzled over the top. ‘They come out really crispy on the outside, but lovely and soft in the centre.’
Jane nodded again as she sipped some more wine.
‘Right, got that… For my next dinner guest I’ll serve chicken…’
They went into the cosy lounge and Natalie asked for a blow-by-blow account of everything that had gone on with Pearl. She roared with laughter about the stolen books and Jane almost joined in, but did feel some compassion for poor Pearl.
‘So, you’re now living alone, just like me.’ Natalie lit a cigarette and poured them both another glass of wine.
‘Yes. It’ll be a strain financially but I’m already enjoying the privacy. I just hope Pearl won’t be too traumatised by her arrest, and that she finds somewhere else to live.’
‘So, tell me all about Michael…’
Jane told Natalie that he had seemed to really enjoy the spaghetti, and had even had two servings, but then he had received the emergency call so they had to leave, just as they were getting to know each other better.
‘What happened at the hospital?’
‘It was awful, because…’ Jane hesitated.
‘You can tell me, Jane. What happened?’
‘We had a very important patient and sadly she didn’t make it. She died from the injuries she suffered during the explosion at Covent Garden.’
‘Really? Why was she so important?’
‘She was a witness, so without her… This is very confidential and I shouldn’t really even be discussing it…’
‘Let’s change the subject. Tell me, did Michael make a pass at you?’
‘Sort of. He’s really very nice… in fact, this is the wine he brought round when he came, but I’d already opened a bottle.’
They continued chatting, glancing through the Sunday papers as they talked. Natalie went in and out of the kitchen to oversee the cooking, and eventually they sat down to have lunch. Natalie carved the golden-brown chicken with the crispy bacon attached to the skin.
‘These roast potatoes are absolutely delicious,’ Jane said. The gravy had been made from the juices in the roasting tin, and was thick and very tasty.
Natalie had produced an apple pie but they were both too full to eat it straightaway, so they decided to wait for a while.
‘I know, why don’t I show you my wrap and bolero? You can try them on and see which one you’d like to borrow to go with that amazing dress!’
They went into Natalie’s bedroom and she opened the wardrobe door and took out a velvet bolero. It had a tiny row of sequins decorating the edge of the sleeves and the hem.
Jane took off her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt as she wouldn’t be wearing anything but the velvet bodice with the tiny straps. She felt unself-conscious as she slipped the bolero over her bra.
‘I love it… it’s perfect!’
‘I think so too… but I’ve got a lovely nice pink shawl as well, which is a good length to wrap around and toss over your shoulder.’
Natalie opened a drawer in her chest of drawers and rooted around, pulling out a long, delicate, shawl.
‘See — it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes…’ Jane wrapped it around the velvet bolero and stood in front of the full-length mirror inside the wardrobe door. She couldn’t decide between the two, and kept on putting it on and off as she looked at herself in the mirror.
The oven timer suddenly went off and Natalie yelped.
‘Oh, that’s the apple pie done! I’ll make some custard whilst you decide. Personally, I like the bolero and I think it’ll look absolutely perfect with that Chanel dress.’
Jane took off the shawl and held it in one hand as she studied herself in the bolero again. She knew Natalie was right and carefully folded the shawl to put it back. As she went towards the open drawer she noticed a Hermès label. Realising it was a scarf, Jane gently pulled the corner of it out from beneath the pile of other scarfs it was under. It was clearly expensive and had a distinctive pattern of red horses’ heads and gold horseshoes. An icy chill spread through her veins and she took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding as she remembered the description their witness had given, of the woman seen in the phone box outside Covent Garden when the explosion had happened.