'I'm pleased,' she said. 'Mind you, I did check on you when I spoke to Patrick yesterday.'
She was watching him carefully over her wineglass.
'Yesterday? Rang him, did you?' said Dalziel, somewhat taken aback.
'No. He dropped in. Just here on a quick trip. Like you. Made his duty call.'
'Unlike me,' said Dalziel gallantly. 'No duty, just pleasure.'
'Well, I half believe you,' said Penny. 'But only because Patrick says he's never heard of you.'
'You asked him?'
'Oh, just in passing. Checking through old acquaintance. You must be slipping, Andy. There was a time when you made enough noise to be heard all the way to the Scottish border.'
'I've quietened down,' said Dalziel. 'Stay long, did he?'
'Not long. He never does. We've never been terribly close.'
'Funny that, with you bringing him up all by yourself. Did you ever think of marrying his dad? Or was he married already?'
'None of your damned business,' said Penny.
'Sorry,' said Dalziel, emptying the carafe into her glass.
Another was delivered almost before he could nod his huge grizzled head at the waiter. 'But it can't have been any joke bringing up a lad by yourself. The money side must have been hard enough. And in them days, they didn't have one-parent families, they had tarts and bastards.'
She gave out her splendid laugh.
'You really know how to talk to a girl, Andy! But it wasn't so bad. There were some nasty sods around, there still are for that matter, but most people weren't much bothered, particularly down here. As for money, I got by with a little help from my friends.'
'Including Aunt Flo?' prompted Dalziel.
'Aunt Flo and Uncle Eddie were very generous,' she said tightly.
'Yes, the old girl left you nice and comfortable,' agreed Dalziel. 'Were you surprised when you heard the will?'
He watched her closely as she replied. Pascoe had reported on his visit to Masson and Dalziel had worked out some conclusions of his own, but whether they would prove helpful or not remained to be seen.
'There wasn't a will,' Penny replied, sipping her wine. 'I inherited because I was the only living relative.'
'And Patrick.'
'Oh yes. And Patrick.'
'He seems to have taken a real shine to Rosemont. Was that just since you started living there after your aunt's death?' asked Dalziel.
She shook her head. Her rich dark curls danced, casting back sparks from the imitation coach-lamps which lit the restaurant.
'No. Patrick always loved Rosemont. We used to visit on odd occasions right from the time he was a baby. I'd been going much longer, of course, with my mother while she was alive. It amused me sometimes to think that Aunt Flo, after doing her duty by her errant sister, found herself having to do the same duty for her errant niece!'
She laughed, but without much humour this time.
'At least she did it,' proclaimed Dalziel.
'With a bit of arm-twisting,' said Penny grimly.
'From your uncle, you mean? What was he like?'
Her expression softened.
'Oh, Uncle Eddie was a lovely man. Kind and thoughtful and gentle. Flo drove him, of course. It must have been the attraction of opposites in the first place, and once she got him, she just kept on driving him. He was first class at his job, I believe, and a shrewd investor, but it was her who kept him at it hard enough to make the money that paid for Rosemont and kept her in luxury. It was marvellous really that he beat her in the end. I mean, she must have thought Rosemont was her own personal status symbol. A small country house to match her snobbish aspirations. But he turned it into a refuge for himself. He loved the house, and even more he loved the gardens, especially the roses.'
'Like Patrick, then?'
'Oh yes,' she said reflectively. 'Very like Patrick. He took to Rosemont in a big way, right from the beginning, even though we only used to get there for odd weekends and Aunt Flo would be telling him to keep quiet and watch his manners all the time. Me, I'm not one for putting down roots. I'm a city girl, too. Always will be. I don't wander as much as I used to nowadays, but I still love it here in London even though it belongs to the Arabs now. This is where the life is. Stay too long with the vegetables and you vegetate. But Patrick was different. He never complained, mind you. But two days at Rosemont obviously meant more to him than two months anywhere else. I suppose it was the only sort of permanent thing he ever came across. Me, I hate permanency, but I'm beginning to feel as if I might be permanently pissed. Listen, can we have some coffee before I fall off my chair?'
Dalziel turned his head towards the waiter who rushed forward with another carafe, a reasonable assumption on past performance and as they were only half way through their main course.
'Coffee,' said Dalziel. 'He must have been upset when your uncle died.'
