But her face was brilliant with joy as Charlie got out of the car and she could hug him. He handed Pippa out and she found herself being scrutinised by two bright eyes before Angela Havering thrust out a hand declaring that she was so glad to meet her.
Roscoe drove the car away.
‘He has to park at the back,’ Charlie explained. ‘He’ll join us in a minute.’
‘Come inside,’ Angela said, taking her hand. ‘I want to know all about you, and how you’re going to save my dear boy.’
She drew Pippa into the house, a lavishly elegant establishment, clearly furnished and tended by someone who’d brought housekeeping to a fine art, with the cash to do it.
In the kitchen they found Nora, a cheerful, middle-aged woman in a large apron, presiding over a variety of dishes.
‘I hope I didn’t make your life difficult, coming unexpectedly,’ Pippa said as they were introduced.
‘There’s plenty to eat,’ Angela said. ‘It’s always been one of my husband’s maxims that a successful house has food ready all the time.’
Pippa smiled, but she had a strange, edgy feeling. Angela spoke almost as if her husband were still alive.
Nora poured wine and Angela handed them each a glass and raised hers in salute.
‘Welcome to our home,’ she said to Pippa. ‘I’m sure you’re going to make everything all right.’
It was a charming scene, but it would have been more charming, Pippa thought, if she’d waited for Roscoe to join them. It was a tiny point, but it troubled her.
From the kitchen window, she had a view of the back garden, with a large garage at the far end. As she watched, Roscoe came out of a side door of the garage and began walking to the house.
‘Here he is,’ she said, pointing.
‘Oh, good. I was afraid he’d keep us waiting. Honestly, he can be so inconsiderate.’
Over supper, Angela was on edge, constantly turning an anxious expression on Charlie, then a frowning gaze at Roscoe, as though silently criticising him for something. To Pippa, it seemed as though she’d given all her love to one son and barely registered the existence of the other.
Of course, she argued with herself, Charlie was a vulnerable boy threatened with disaster, while Roscoe was a powerful man, well able to take care of himself. But still.
Charlie’s cellphone rang. He went out into the hall to speak to the caller and, as soon as he’d gone, Angela clasped Pippa’s hand.
‘You see how he is, how he needs to be cared for.’
‘And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares for him,’ Pippa couldn’t resist saying.
‘Oh, yes, of course there’s Roscoe. He does his best, but when I think of what might happen to my darling…maybe prison.’
‘He won’t go to prison,’ Pippa said at once. ‘It’s a first offence, nothing was stolen and nobody was hurt. A fine, and perhaps some community service is the worst that will happen.’
‘But he’ll have a criminal record.’
‘Yes, and that’s why we’re working so hard to defend him.’
‘Oh, if only my husband were here,’ Angela wailed. ‘William would know what to do. He always does.’
Roscoe’s eyes met Pippa’s and a little shake of his head warned her to say nothing. She nodded, feeling all at sea, glad to keep quiet.
‘But you’ve got me to help, Mother,’ Roscoe reminded her.
‘Oh, yes, and you do your best, but it’s not the same, is it?’
‘No, it’s not the same,’ Roscoe said quietly.
‘If only he hadn’t gone away. He should be here now that we need him so much.’
Again, she might have been speaking of a living man, and Pippa wondered uneasily just how much she lived in the real world.
As she spoke, Angela fiddled constantly was a ring on her left hand. It was an engagement ring, with an awesome central diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds.
‘That’s my engagement ring,’ Angela said, seeing her glance. ‘It was much too expensive and William couldn’t really afford it in those days, but he said that nothing was too much for me. All these years later, I still have it to remind me that his love never died.’ Her voice shook.
Pippa was uncertain where to look. Angela’s determination to thrust her emotion on everyone was difficult to cope with, even without knowing that it was misplaced.
Charlie returned after a moment, bearing a cup of tea which he set before his mother.
‘Why, darling, how kind of you to think of me!’ She turned to Roscoe. ‘Isn’t Charlie a wonderful son? ‘
‘The best,’ Roscoe agreed kindly. ‘Now, drink up, and have plenty of sugar because that always does you good.’
‘Here,’ Charlie said, spooning sugar madly into the cup. His mother beamed at him.
So the spoilt child got all the credit, Pippa thought, while Roscoe, who was genuinely working hard to ease her troubles, was barely noticed.
Then she reproved herself for being over-emotional. Roscoe was only doing what was sensible, supporting his mother and Charlie so that the family should not disintegrate. The idea that he might be saddened by being relegated to the shadows of Angela’s affection was too sentimental for words. And if there was one thing Roscoe was not, it was sentimental.
And neither was she, she reminded herself.
Nonetheless, she couldn’t help warming to him for his generosity and patience.
A little later Angela went away into the kitchen, and she seized the chance to tell Charlie about Ginevra. He was reluctant to believe the worst, but Pippa was firm, saying, ‘I don’t want you to contact her unless I say so. Give me your word.’
‘All right, maybe I was a bit mad but she made my head spin.’
‘Well, it’s time to stop spinning. Mr Havering, do you have a computer here that I could use?’
‘It’s upstairs,’ Roscoe said. ‘I’ll show you.’
‘Beware,’ Charlie warned. ‘He’s taking you up to his bedroom, a place where no sensible woman goes.’
‘Cut it out,’ Roscoe advised him wearily. ‘Miss Jenson, I hope you know you have absolutely nothing to fear from me.’
‘That’s not very flattering,’ Charlie protested illogically.
‘Unflattering but sensible and businesslike,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, let me return the compliment by declaring that I too am entirely free from temptation. Now, shall we go?’
‘I’ll come too,’ Charlie declared. ‘To protect you.’
‘I need no protection,’ she declared firmly. ‘Ask your brother how I deal with troublesome men.’
Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Hey, he didn’t—?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Roscoe said, exasperated. ‘But I witnessed the fate of someone who did. Take it from me, you wouldn’t like it. Stay here and look after Mother.’
Roscoe’s room was much as she would have expected—full of straight lines, plain, unadorned, unrevealing. The bed was narrow and looked hard, the wallpaper was pale grey, without pattern. There was a television, modest, neat, efficient; a set where a man would watch the news. A monk