"She'll go mad."
"Do you have a choice?"
"I could kill myself," she said in a tight little voice.
"It's a very weak spirit," he said gently, "that sees cutting off the head as the only solution to a headache." He slapped his hands against his knees. "Find a bit of courage, girl. Give me Dave's address and then sort things out with your headmistress."
Her lip wobbled. "Will you come with me if I do?"
Oh, good grief, he thought, hadn't he had to hold his own children's hands often enough? "All right," he agreed, "but if she asks me to leave I shall have to. I've no authority here as your guardian, remember."
"Twenty-three, Palace Road, Bournemouth," she whispered. "It was my mother who told you I was a thief, wasn't it?" She sounded desperately forlorn, as if she realized that, for her, there was no one left.
"No," said Cooper compassionately. "More's the pity, but your mother hasn't told me anything."
When Sarah pulled into her driveway later that Friday afternoon, she was greeted by the unexpected sight of Jack's car and Cooper's car nestling side by side against the wall in cosy intimacy. Her first inclination was to turn round and drive away again. She hadn't the stomach for a confrontation with either of them, even less for another baring of her soul in front of Cooper while her husband severed his remaining ties. But second thoughts prevailed. Dammit all-she banged her fist angrily against the steering wheel-it was her house. She was buggered if she was going to drive around for hours just to avoid her scumbag of a husband and a pompous policeman.
Quietly, she let herself in through the front door, half-thinking that if she tiptoed past the studio, she could possess herself of the kitchen before they knew she was there. As her mother had once said, slamming the kitchen door on Sarah's father: "An Englishman's home may be his castle, but an Englishwoman's kitchen is where he eats his humble pie." The sound of voices drifted down the corridor, however, and she knew they had possessed it before her. With a sigh, she fastened her dignity about her like armour plating, and advanced.
Jack, DS Cooper and Ruth Lascelles looked up from their glasses of wine with differing shades of alarm and embarrassment colouring their faces.
"Hi," said Sarah into the silence. "You found the '83 Cheval Blanc with no trouble then."
"Have some," said Jack, reaching for a clean glass off the draining board. "It's good."
"It should be," she said. "It's a St. Emilion, Premier Grand Cru Class6, and it cost me a small fortune when I laid it down."
"Don't be so stuffy, woman. You've got to try them from time to time, otherwise you'll end up with a collector's item that's totally undrinkable." He filled the glass and pushed it across the table, his eyes bright with mischief. She felt a surge of affection for the randy bastard-love, she thought, was the most stubborn of all the diseases-but hid it under a ferocious glare. "The consensus view amongst the three of us," he went on cheerfully, "is dark ruby colour, brilliant legs, and a very exotic nose-curranty fruit, cigar box and hints of herbs and spices."
"It's a vintage wine, you moron. It's supposed to be savoured and appreciated, not drunk at five o'clock in the afternoon round the kitchen table. I bet you didn't let it breathe. I bet you just poured it out like Lucozade."
Cooper cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Dr. Blakeney. We did say we'd be happier with tea."
"You pusillanimous rat," said Jack with imperturbable good humour. "You drooled when I waved the bottle under your nose. Well, come on, old thing, you might as well try it. We're all dying for second helpings but we thought it would be tactful to wait till you arrived before we opened another one."
"Your life expectancy would be nil if you had," she said, dropping her handbag and shrugging her coat to the floor. "All right. Give it here, but I can tell you now it won't be drinkable. It needs another three years at least." She sat in the vacant chair and drew the glass towards her, covering it with one hand and swirling it gently to release the bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively. "Who smelt cigar boxes?"
"I did," said Cooper nervously.
"That's good. The book says the bouquet should be smoky oak and cedar. Curranty fruit?"
Cooper indicated himself again. "Me."
"Have you done this before?" He shook his head. "You should take it up. You've obviously got a nose for it."
"Ruth and I sussed the herbs and spices," said Jack. "What's the verdict?"
Sarah took a sip and let the flavours play across her tongue. "Spectacular," she said finally, "but you're bloody well not opening another bottle. The book says another three years, and I'm going by the book. You can use the wine box for refills. What are you all doing here anyway?" Her eyes rested on Ruth. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Ruth's been expelled," said Jack. "We're all wondering if she can live here with you and me until something more permanent is sorted out."
Sarah took another sip of her wine and eyed him thoughtfully. "You and me?" she queried silkily. "Does that mean you intend to inflict your company on me again?"
The dark face softened. "That rather depends, my angel."
"On whether or not I'm prepared to have you back?"
"No. On whether I come back on my terms or your terms."
"My terms," she said bluntly, "or not at all."
He gave a ghost of a smile. "Shame," he murmured.
Sarah held his gaze for a moment, then transferred her attention to Ruth. "So why were you expelled?"
Ruth, who had been staring at her hands since Sarah came in, flicked a sideways glance at Cooper. "The Sergeant knows. He can tell you."
"I'd rather hear it from you."
"I broke the school rules." She resumed her study of her hands.
"All of them or one in particular?"
"Leaving school without permission."
"Times haven't changed then. A friend of mine was expelled for sneaking down the fire escape and talking to some boys at the bottom of it. She was only caught because the rest of us were hanging out of the windows giggling. We were making such a row the housemistress heard us and expelled her on the spot. She's a barrister now. Rather a good one, too."
"I've been sleeping with someone," Ruth whispered, "and the headmistress said I was a bad influence on the others. She said I was immoral."
Sarah raised enquiring eyebrows at Cooper, who nodded. "Ah, well, perhaps times have changed, after all," she said matter-of-factly. "I can't imagine any of us having the courage to do anything so daring, not after we'd had it firmly dinned into us that a prospective husband could always tell if a girl wasn't a virgin." She gave a throaty chuckle. "We knew a great deal about love bites and the bruising effects of frantic French kissing, and absolutely nothing about anything else. We were convinced we'd turn green or break out in pustules if we let a man loose below the neckline. It came as something of a shock to discover we'd been sold a lie." She took another sip of her wine. "Was it worth getting expelled for?"
"No." A tear raa down the girl's face and on to the table. "I don't know what to do. I want to go to university."
"Surely the most sensible thing would be to go back to Cedar House and your mother. She'll have to find you another school." Why had Cooper brought her here anyway? Or was it Jack who'd brought her?
Cooper rumbled into life. "Her boyfriend's liable to cut up rough, once I've had a word with him, and Cedar House will be the first place he goes looking. It's an imposition, I know, but off-hand I couldn't think of anywhere else, not after the way the school dealt with her." He looked quite put out. "She was told to pack a suitcase while they ordered a taxi to take her home, so I said, forget the taxi, I'll take her. I've never seen the like of it. You'd think she'd committed a hanging offence the way they carried on. And the worst of it was, they wouldn't have known anything about it if I hadn't persuaded her to tell them herself. I feel responsible, I really do, but then I thought they'd give her some credit for being honest and let her off with a caution. It's what I would have done."