She said, "What did Dad do?"
"I was still sleeping. He woke me. We went along to Pandora's room, and she'd broken her bottle of scent in the bathroom basin. She must have knocked it over. The basin was filled with broken glass, and the smell filled the room, overpowering, like a sort of drug. So we drew back the curtains and threw open all the windows, and then we thought we must look for some sort of clue. We didn't have to look very far because she'd left an envelope on the desk, and there was a letter for Dad inside."
"What did it say?"
"Not very much. Just that she was sorry. And… something about money. Her house in Majorca. She said she was tired and she couldn't go on fighting any longer. But she didn't give any reason. She must have been so unhappy, and none of us knew. None of us had the slightest suspicion, the least idea of what was going on in her mind. If only I'd known. I should have been more perceptive, more sympathetic. I might have been able to talk to her… to help…"
"How could you? You mustn't for a moment blame yourself… Of course you didn't know what Pandora was thinking. Nobody could ever know what she was thinking."
"I thought we were close. I thought that I was close to her…"
"And you were. Just as close as any woman could be to Pandora. She loved you, I know. But I don't think she ever wanted to get too near to people. I think that was her defence."
"I don't know." Isobel, clearly, was distraught and bewildered.
I suppose so." Her grip on Lucilla's hands tightened. "I have to tell you the rest." She took a deep and steadying breath. "After we found the letter, Dad rang the police in Relkirk. He explained what had happened, and the difficulties of the location, the road to the loch.
They sent, not an ambulance, but a police Land Rover, with a four-wheel drive. And the police doctor came with it. Then they drove on up to the loch…"
"Who went?"
"Willy. And Dad. And Conrad Tucker. Conrad went with them. He was up and about by then, and he offered to go with Dad. So kind of him, such a kind man, because Archie didn't want me to go, and I couldn't bear the thought of his being on his own."
"So where are they now?"
"They're not yet back from Relkirk. They were going to take her-the body-there, to the Relkirk General. I suppose to the mortuary."
"Will there have to be an inquest?"
"Yes. A fatal-accident inquiry."
A fatal accident. The words had the chilling ring of officialdom about them. Lucilla imagined the courtroom, the cold and objective words of evidence and conclusion. Then newspapers, with accounts of the incident. Some old, blurred photograph of Pandora's lovely face. The headlines. "Death of Lord Balmerino's Sister."
The inevitable publicity, she knew, would be the final horror. "Oh, poor Dad."
Isobel said, "People always tell you, 'This will pass. Time will heal.' But at times like this one doesn't seem to be able to think more than a moment ahead. This is now. And it feels insupportable. There are no words of comfort."
"I can't take it in. It's all so pointless."
"I know, my darling. I know."
Isobel's voice was soothing, but Lucilla was not soothed. Instead, her distress blew up in an outburst of indignation. "It's all such a waste. Why did she have to? What on earth drove her to take such a step?"
"We don't know. We have no idea."
The little explosion of anger flickered and then died. Lucilla sighed. She said, "Does anybody else know? Has anybody been told?"
"There's really nobody to tell. Except Edmund. And Vi. I expect Dad will ring Edmund when he gets back from Relkirk. But Vi mustn't be told over the telephone. Somebody will have to go and see her and break the news. Too great a shock for an old lady…"
"What about Jeff?"
"Jeff's downstairs in the kitchen. He appeared about five minutes ago. I'm afraid I'd forgotten all about him, and the poor man didn't get much of a welcome. Coming down to breakfast and being faced with such news. And there wasn't even any breakfast, because I hadn't got around to cooking anything. I think he's frying something up for himself right now."
"I must go and be with him."
"Yes. I think he could do with a little company."
"When will Dad and Conrad be back?"
"I suppose about half past ten or eleven. They'll be ravenous too, because there wasn't time to feed them before they left. I'll make them something when they come. And meantime…" She got to her feet. "I'm going to start clearing the dining-room. The table's still laden with all the remains of dinner last night."
"It seems a lifetime ago, doesn't it? Why don't you leave it? Jeff and I will do it later, or we'll get Agnes back from the vil-lage…"
"No, I want something to do. Women are so much luckier than men. At ghastly times like this, they can always find something to occupy their hands, even if it's only scrubbing the kitchen floor. Washing glasses and polishing silver will fit the bill very nicely…"
Lucilla was alone. She got out of bed and dressed, pulling on jeans and a sweater. Brushed her hair, went to the bathroom to clean her teeth and wash her face. A flannel soaked in scalding water, pressed to her eyes and cheeks. The heat cleansed, refreshed, cleared her head. She ran downstairs.
Jeff sat at one end of the kitchen table, with a mug of coffee and a plateful of bacon and sausages. He looked up as she came in, swallowed his mouthful, laid down his knife and fork, and got to his feet. She went to him, and he took her in his arms, and for a little while they just stood there. It felt warm and safe in his strong embrace, and the thick sheepy wool of his sweater smelt friendly and familiar. From the pantry came the sound of running water, the clink of glass. Isobel was already hard at work.
He didn't say anything. After a little they drew apart. She smiled her gratitude for his comfort, and reached for a chair and sat, leaning her elbows on the scrubbed table.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked.
"No."
"You'd feel better with something inside you."
"I couldn't eat."
"A cup of coffee then." He went to the Aga and filled a mug, and brought it over and set it down before her. Then he sat down again and went on with his sausages.
She drank a little coffee. She said, "I'm glad we had that time with her."
"Yeah."
"I'm glad she came home with us."
"It was good." He reached over and took her hand. He said, "Lucilla, I think I should go."
"Go?" She stared at him in some dismay. "Go where?"
"Well, this isn't a very good time for your mother and father to have a stranger around the place,…"
"But you're not a stranger…"
"You know what I mean. I think I should pack my bag and take myself off…"
"Oh, but you can't.…" The very suggestion filled Lucilla with panic. "You can't leave us all…" Her voice rose, and he shushed her gently, aware of Isobel's presence beyond the open door, and not wishing his hostess to overhear the conversation. Lucilla dropped her voice to a furious whisper. "You can't leave me. Not now. I need you, Jeff. I can't cope with everything being so utterly awful. Not on my own."
"I feel I 'm intruding."
"You're not. You're not. Oh, please, don't go."
He looked into her beseeching face and relented.
"Okay. If 1 can be any help, I'll certainly stay around. But whatever happens, I can't stay for long, because the beginning of October I have to go back to Australia."
"Yes. I know. But don't talk about leaving us just yet."
He said, "If you like, you could come with me."
"Sorry?"
"I said, if you like you could come with me. To Australia, I mean."
Lucilla's fingers closed around her coffee mug. "What would I do there?"
"We could be together. Go on being together. There's plenty of room in my parents' house. And I know they'd make you very welcome."