“Yes, of course, Nicky.”
While she scuttled off to the kitchen, he led Jude into the sitting room. She had not been in this part of the house on her previous visit, but again the image was straight from the pages of an interior design magazine. The furthest wall was all glass, with a vista to a terrace, the garden-remarkably neat and sculpted for February-the paddocks, and then up towards the comforting contours of the South Downs.
Nicky Dalrymple gestured Jude towards one of the plethora of sofas.
“I gather from Sonia that you’re just back from Frankfurt.”
“Yes. A meeting didn’t last as long as it was scheduled, thank God, so I was able to get an earlier flight. Always love getting back here, but…I’m afraid what I do is very time hungry.”
“I can imagine. Banking, isn’t it?”
“In the broadest sense, yes.”
“Well, that’s a subject about which I cannot claim to know anything-and please don’t feel that you need to explain it to me.”
That prompted another of his perfect smiles. “Very well, I won’t. And what do you do…Jude-was that right?”
“Yes.” Having been tipped off about Nicky Dalrymple’s views on complementary medicine, she contented herself with, “Oh, I’m retired.”
Fortunately he didn’t have the opportunity to follow this up with questions about her past career, because Sonia came in at that moment with the required cup and saucer.
Jude commented on the beauty of the view, and some conversation ensued about the advantages of living in the Fethering area. Nicky asserted that, as soon as he got home, he felt he was shedding an accumulation of stress, like a snake discarding an old skin.
Though getting home may have had that effect on him, Jude didn’t get the impression it worked the same magic for Sonia. In the presence of her husband she seemed positively on edge, trying to anticipate his reaction to anything that was said, desperate perhaps to please. Jude received a new insight into the condition of Sonia’s marriage, and perhaps a clue to the reason why she had sought help in alternative therapy.
“I gather from Sonia that all Fethering is talking about the murder up at Long Bamber Stables.”
“Yes. Didn’t you know Walter Fleet?”
“No. Sonia does all the horsey stuff. I’m afraid I don’t have time. When we bought Chieftain I had this idea of riding him out with the hunt, but…God, life takes over, doesn’t it?” There was no doubt that Nicky Dalrymple knew how to ride. He carried an air of omnicompetence, a man who’d played all the right sports at all the right schools, and probably been captain of most of them. “Anyway, now the government’s banning hunting, that all becomes a bit academic. Perhaps we should think about getting rid of Chieftain…”
“Oh, we can’t do that,” said Sonia, shocked.
“I didn’t say we would, darling. I said we’d have to think about it.” But when he did think about it, if he decided that the horse should go, Jude knew no amount of argument would change his mind.
“Maybe the girls’ pony’s becoming surplus to requirements too.” Nicky continued. “What’s he called?”
“She. She’s called Conker,” Sonia replied, with a weary intonation that suggested her husband made a point of not remembering the name. “And we couldn’t possibly get rid of her. Alice and Laura would kill us.”
“Who knows? A bit of time at boarding school’s going to change their priorities. Entirely possible that they’ll come back for the Easter holidays without a thought of horses in their heads. They’ll probably have moved on to boy bands, or possibly”-he shuddered-“even real boys.”
“They don’t meet any real boys at that school.”
“Don’t you believe it. If they’re anything like I was at boarding school, they’ll somehow manage to arrange encounters with the opposite sex.” He laughed a man-of-the-world laugh.
“Well,” said Sonia firmly, “we’ll wait until we find out the girls’ views about Conker before we even think of getting rid of her.”
Interesting, Jude thought, how much stronger Sonia’s defence had been when her daughters’ concerns were at risk rather than her own. Chieftain was her horse, but she’d let him go if Nicky insisted. There was no way, though, that she’d let the twins be steamrollered. Jude was also getting the impression that Alice and Laura had inherited their father’s strong will, in fact that they were quite possibly right little madams. Sonia’s role in the family was that of making concessions to everyone.
Jude was also interested to note that Nicky Dalrymple was behaving as if the conversation was a kind of performance, including her in their domestic life. His ordered family circumstances were almost being paraded in front of her.
“Anyway, about this murder,” he said. “I gather from Sonia that the police have arrested someone?”
“Technically only taken someone in for questioning,” said Jude. “Some kind of itinerant horse expert called Donal.”
Nicky raised his eyebrows in the direction of his wife. “You didn’t tell me you knew the suspect’s name, darling.”
“I didn’t know it.”
Jude suspected that Sonia was lying.
“He’s not that Donal who came round once to look at the girls’ pony…erm…?”
“Conker.”
“Yes. Was it him?”
“I don’t know.” Sonia was flustered, and she looked to Jude for help. “Do you know anything more about this Donal?”
“Just that he knows about horses. He’s helped out Lucinda Fleet from time to time up at Long Bamber Stables. Bit of a reputation for being light-fingered…and for starting fights when he’s in his cups.”
“Got to be the same fellow.” Nicky Dalrymple grimaced with distaste. “Scruffy little Herbert, whose Irish charm I have to say didn’t go far with me.”
“But he did cure Conker of that coughing.”
“How do you know the pony wouldn’t have got better on its own?”
“Well, I can’t prove that, Nicky, but-”
“I think that Donal was full of blarney and Jameson’s. I told him so at the time. Just a bloody snake-oil salesman, getting money out of gullible housewives for his so-called healing. Do you believe in all that mumbo jumbo, Jude?”
She could feel focussed pleading from Sonia’s eyes, and replied sedately, “One does hear remarkable instances of alternative therapies working.”
“Huh. Mind you, there’s usually another explanation for whatever’s happened. A lot of injuries and illnesses just clear up under their own steam.”
Nicky Dalrymple was clearly not used to being contradicted. In other circumstances Jude would have happily introduced him to the concept, but for his wife’s sake she knew this wasn’t the moment. “Well, thank you so much for the tea. I’d really better be off.”
“But you haven’t talked about your charity thing to Sonia yet.”
For a moment Jude was thrown, having forgotten the lie she had told. Then hastily she said, “We can do that another time.”
“No, tell me what the charity is. We always try to do our bit, don’t we, Sonia? We’re personally major contributors to the I.L.P.H.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”
Sonia supplied the information. “I.L.P.H.” stood for “The International League for the Protection of Horses.”
“So what is the charity you’re working for?” Nicky Dalrymple insisted.
“Erm…well…It’s the N.S.P.C.C.” The only one she could think of on the spur of the moment. But a perfectly admirable charity. And it did help humans rather than animals, which Jude-unlike most residents of West Sussex- always thought was the greater priority.
“Let me give you a contribution then.” And Nicky Dalrymple’s cheque book was out of the pocket of his jacket. “Now who should I make it payable to?”
Jude looked across at Sonia, who made an imperceptible shrug. If Jude’s lie was going to bring benefit to
