forced to watch.’
Brackdale folk had never understood the Dumelows’ relationship, he told himself. Glib and easy resentment of a glamorous trophy wife missed the point. So did envy of the rich man who’d dumped his childhood sweetheart for a younger, prettier model. For once the truth was tinged with fairytale romance. This couple really were truly, madly, deeply in love with each other. But it wasn’t a fairytale with a happy ending.
‘Would you like a drop of something?’ she asked as they entered the living room. A half-empty bottle of Gordon’s stood on a silver tray next to a solitary glass.
And Tash herself, people had never understood her. The snide remarks that they exchanged behind their hands were ludicrously mistaken. This woman wasn’t a city sophisticate who regarded slumming it in the valley as the price to be paid for a cushy lifestyle. Look at the watercolours that covered the walls, the shimmering dawns and the purple sunsets, the blue meres and the mist-fringed mountains. They weren’t masterpieces, but they were painted from the heart. She was infatuated with Lakeland, still crazy after all these years. Brackdale was her special place, a private refuge, an oasis of safety.
‘No?’ She nodded at one of the vast leather armchairs. ‘Do take a seat. You won’t mind if I pour myself another?’
‘Of course not.’
Lifting the bottle, she said, ‘I know I’ve had enough. Too many, in fact, but who’s counting? This is the best anaesthetic I know. Kind of you to call by.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Tash.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I came to ask a couple of questions.’
Until this moment, she’d seemed dazed. Dazed by the drink and the fate of the man who was dying in this house. But something in his tone seemed to slap her into watchfulness.
‘Questions?’
The warning voice whispered in his brain: You’re going to regret this. Keep quiet, make your apologies and leave her to weep. There is still time.
‘As a matter of fact, when I was a student, I spent a few months learning Russian, just for fun.’
‘And?’
The longcase clock was ticking in the background. He focused on Tash’s white face, so beautifully structured. Cheekbones to die for. They were so high; a Slavic inheritance, he’d assumed.
‘There was a proverb I came across. I don’t know if you’re familiar with it.’ He took a deep breath. If only his translation skills weren’t so rusty. ‘It goes something like this. Skazhi s kem ty drug, a ya skazhu kto ty takov.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m way out of practice.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Your native tongue?’
‘It’s a mistake to live in the past,’ she said with a tight smile. ‘I think of myself as English now.’
‘Yes, that’s one thing everyone admires. The way you’ve assimilated yourself into the English way of life. You speak the language like a native, no one would ever imagine that you came from Russia. The proverb, by the way, means Tell me who your friend is and I’ll tell you who you are.’
She sipped at her drink, watching him in the way a zoo keeper might watch a tiger with a reputation for unpredictability.
‘In case you needed a translation,’ he said. ‘Some things cling on in the memory more than others, don’t they? Like the stories we enjoyed as children.’
It must have been his imagination, but the clock was getting louder. Tick, tick, tick.
‘Sorry, Daniel,’ she said coldly. ‘It must be me. Perhaps I’ve had a drop too much, maybe it’s all the — stuff that’s been going on lately. My head’s throbbing and I’m afraid you’re not making it any better.’
He stood up. They were a yard apart, facing each other. ‘You reminded Miranda of the name of the character in a book by Arthur Ransome, didn’t you? A girl called Dorothea.’
‘Sorry?’ Her face was a mask and he guessed she was trying to freeze-frame the conversation in her mind and identify what exactly she might have said.
Tick, tick, tick.
‘You both identified with the escapism in the story. But what matters is that you were familiar with the name.’
Tash spread her arms. ‘I must have come across it somewhere.’
‘Not as a child in Russia, though. My sister was devoted to those books, she couldn’t get enough of the fun and games with Captain Flint, even though it was a fantasy world. Totally different from life at the local comprehensive. Mind you, Arthur Ransome was married to Trotsky’s secretary, wasn’t he? One of my favourite bits of Lakeland literary trivia.’
She stared at him. ‘You’re not talking sense.’
‘It comes down to this. I can’t believe that when you were a kid,
‘Maybe I did. What are you talking about, for God’s sake? I invite you in as a friend and now you are practically persecuting me.’
The voice hissed: This is your last chance. Stop now.
But an almost sexual exhilaration was blazing within him and he knew he could not let go. No stopping now, he was past reason. Like when he and Miranda stripped off inhibitions along with their clothes and made love to each other that first time in Tarn Fold. Had his father felt this hot excitement, when he closed in the solution to a case? At last he knew why detecting crime had meant so much to Ben Kind. It kidnapped you, this burning urge to rip away all the wrappers and reveal the truth. It consumed you, it was everything.
Tash’s hands were on her hips. Inside, for all he knew she was breaking apart, but her lips were pressed together in a defiant line. He’d never seen eyes so cold and empty. She would not yield.
He took a step towards her. With each bit of flotsam, each snippet of information swimming into his mind, he could feel himself gaining strength. The strength he needed to confront her with the truth.
You’d never imagine she was a foreigner.
He turned the King of Diamonds into the Ace of Spades.
Tell me who your friend is and I’ll tell you who you are.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
‘So Eldine Webber was the first?’ he asked.
‘Eldine Webber?’ Her voice broke. No mistaking her alarm.
She was playing for time, he could see it in her eyes. Making calculations. How much did he know, how much was guesswork?
‘Surely you haven’t forgotten him?’
‘He was — he was a friend of Gabrielle’s.’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘And Gabrielle killed him, didn’t she?’
Her face was ashen. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Gabrielle killed Eldine Webber. And you know that better than anyone, don’t you? You never were Natasha. You were always Gabrielle Anders.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘This is absurd,’ she said.
‘So much is absurd,’ Daniel said. ‘Including the idea that you and Gabrielle could exchange identities and get away with it. No offence, but neither of you exactly made a success of your acting careers. Even so, it worked. You played your part as if you were up for an Academy Award, but this performance carried on day in, day out. No one had the faintest idea that you weren’t who you claimed to be. Not even Simon, am I right?’
Tash — he couldn’t help thinking of her as Tash — stared at him. ‘You haven’t any proof of this.’
‘Come on, we’re past that stage, aren’t we?’ He spoke as patiently as any counsellor, but how could you counsel a recidivist murderer? ‘Webber was a brute and somehow you killed him. From what I’m told, no one could blame you. I suppose it was an act of despair. But it meant you were in danger. Webber had plenty of enemies, but
