what happened to Duraid, then?'
For a minute Royan could not reply, and then the floodgates within her
burst and she let it all come pouring out. It was a twenty-minute drive
north of York to the little village of Brandsbury, and Royan talked all
the way.
Her mother made only small sounds of encouragement and comfort, and when
Royan wept as she related the details of Duraid's death and funeral,
Georgina reached across and patted her daughter's hand.
It was all over by the time they reached her mother's cottage in the
village. Royan had cried it out and was dryeyed and rational again as
they ate the dinner that her mother had prepared and left in the oven
for them. Royan could not remember when last she had tasted steak and
kidney pie.
'So what are you going to do now?' Georgina asked as she poured what
remained in the black bottle of Guinness into her own glass.
'To tell the truth, I don't know.' As she said it, Royan wondered
ruefully why so many people used that particular phrase to introduce a
lie. 'I have six months' leave from the museum, and Prof Dixon has
arranged for me to give a lecture at the university. That is as far as
it goes for the moment.'
'Well,' said Georgina as she stood up, 'there is a hotwater bottle in
your bed and your room is there for as long as you wish to stay.' From
her that was as good as a passionate declaration of maternal love.
Over the next few days Royan arranged her slides and notes for the
lectures, and each afternoon she accompanied Georgina and Magic on their
long walks over the surrounding countryside.
'Do you know Quenton Park?' she asked her mother during one of these
rambles.
'Rather,' Georgina replied enthusiastically. 'Magic and I pick up there
four or five times a season. First-class shoot. Some of the best
pheasant and woodcock in Yorkshire. One drive there called the High
Larches which is notorious. Birds so high they baffle the best shots in
England.'
'Do you know the owner, Sir Nicholas Quenton Harper?' Royan asked.
'Seen him at the shoots. Don't know him. Good shot, though,' Georgina
replied. 'Knew his papa in the old days before I married your father.'
She smiled in a suggestive way that startled Royan. 'Good dancer. We
danced a few jigs together, not only on the dance floor.'
'Mummy, you are outrageous!'Royan laughed.
'Used to be,' Georgina agreed readily. 'Don't get many opportunities
these days.'
'When are you and Magic going to Quenton Park again?'
'Two weeks' time.'
'May I come with you?'
'Of course - the keeper is always looking for beaters.
Twenty quid and lunch with a bottle of beer for the day.' She stopped
and looked at her daughter quizzically. 'What is all this about, then?'
'I hear there is a private museum on the estate. They have a
world-renowned Egyptian collection. I wanted to get a look at it.'
'Not open to the public any more. Invitation only. Sir Nicholas is an
