The Nightingale Sings Read online

‘What about Leonora?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask. What about Leonora as in the night at the club?’

  ‘I didn’t actually mean that. But since you insist – yes. What about Leonora that night at the club? As well as the day she arrived at the trial at your side—’

  ‘Leonora being at the court was her idea. It had nothing to do with me. Leonora at the club, well, that was her idea too. But that had a lot to do with me. You must have worked that one out by now, surely?’

  ‘She bailed you out.’

  ‘She bailed the club out when we hit the rocks, or rather she and her old man did. Charles, her husband, was one of the original investors, and when we hit a bad patch we asked the original money if they had any more. And they did.’

  ‘So you did know Leonora before?’

  ‘Not really. I only really knew her husband and him only slightly. Someone else brought him in as an investor, the mutual friends I once told you about.’

  ‘Even so—’

  ‘Even so, once I knew who she was exactly – this was after you had started on about her, about your lifelong enmity et cetera et cetera – it was a bit late to come clean. I thought you’d misconstrue it so I didn’t say anything. Not that there was anything to say, but then that only made it worse, if you understand me. If I suddenly said oh yes, I know who you mean now – I do actually know her, you’d only have thought I was hiding something. Think about it. I mean you and Leonora. Big wow.’

  ‘All right,’ Cassie said with a nod after she had considered Joel’s defence. ‘I’ll buy that. Provided you’ve exhausted the bag marked Leonora surprises.’

  ‘It’s empty. There’s nothing else you need to know.’

  Behind Cassie a warden called an end to visiting times. When the announcement was finished everyone around her began making their farewells.

  ‘I’ll come and visit you. As often as I can.’

  ‘It’s a long way from Tipperary, and nearly as long from Wicklow. Look, I’ll be fine. The time just flies by when one’s enjoying oneself.’ He got up, pocketing his cigarettes and going round behind his chair to push it back under the table for all the world as if he were back at school. ‘Send the stuff as soon as you can,’ he said, getting ready to leave. ‘And thanks for the cigarettes.’

  ‘Joel?’ she said as he turned away from her.

  ‘Mrs Rosse?’ he said, half turning back.

  ‘You take care of yourself,’ she said, which wasn’t what she meant to say at all.

  ‘I will,’ he replied, which from the look of him wasn’t quite how he’d imagined their parting either. ‘You take care of yourself, too.’

  Then he was gone. He didn’t turn to look back at her, he just ambled off, hands behind his back again, head in the air just as if he was going back to work in his studio rather than be banged up with someone who probably had never once known any feelings of compassion, someone who, instead of helping someone they loved end a life which was nothing but anguish and despair, had possibly ruined a life which was happy and pain-free by some brutal, callous act. As Cassie watched Joel disappear from her view in the company of people who might have determinedly helped to brutalize the world they lived in, she realized for the first time that there really were some things that could not be cured just by work or dedication. She had to come back to see Joel, and soon.

  But first there was someone else with whom she knew she had to deal.

  Twenty-Six

  He walked straight past her the first time she saw him on her return home. She knew he had seen her from the way whenever she looked in his direction he quickly turned his back on her, and then finally when the last race was over and Cassie made her way towards him as the crowd began to drift to the car parks he quickly changed tack and accelerating his pace walked in a diagonal past her, raising his voice in conversation with the young woman by his side.

  ‘Mattie?’ Cassie called after him. ‘Mattie?’

  Still he didn’t stop, walking on for all the world as if he hadn’t heard, but Cassie knew from the half turn of the young woman’s head that Phoebe McMahon had heard her well enough.

  ‘Mattie Rosse!’ Cassie called again, this time so loudly she knew he could not help but hear her since a group of racegoers ten yards ahead of him turned to see who was doing the calling. Rather than lose any more of her dignity by being seen to hurry after her son, Cassie stood her ground and willed him to stop and acknowledge her. In response to a visible prompt from his girlfriend, he did so.

  ‘Hi,’ he said as he wandered back in Cassie’s direction. ‘At least I take it that was you doing the shouting?’

  ‘Yes, I was calling you,’ Cassie corrected him, ‘since I seem to have become invisible.’

  Mattie looked round at Phoebe McMahon with a what-on-earth’s-she-talking-about-now look before turning back to shrug at his mother. ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see you.’

  ‘Even though I had two runners,’ Cassie replied patiently. ‘One of them in the same race as one of yours.’

  ‘You know me before a race,’ Mattie said. ‘Sorry. Aren’t you going to say hi to Phoebe?’

  Cassie greeted the tall and heavy-set Phoebe, who smiled politely at her.

  ‘I need to see you, Mattie,’ Cassie said, preferring not to get involved in any small talk. ‘What are you doing this evening?’

  Again Mattie looked round at Phoebe as if he were a ventriloquist’s doll being worked by her. ‘We’re not doing anything as far as I know,’ he replied finally. ‘What had you got in mind?’

  The last thing Cassie had in mind was asking Phoebe McMahon back to Claremore to discuss the state of her relationship with her son, but rather than antagonize Mattie further Cassie tried to remain as tactful as she could. ‘It’s really family business,’ she said.

  ‘OK,’ Mattie nodded. ‘Phoebe can sit and have a drink while we talk. We could come back with you now if that suits you.’

  ‘It doesn’t actually,’ Cassie said, eyeing Mattie the way she had always eyed him when he had decided to play wayward. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Then we’ll come over later. No problem. We can go into your study and Phoebe will be fine as long as she’s got a large whisky in her hand.’

  ‘This might take a a bit longer than that,’ Cassie persisted.

  ‘Longer than it takes Phoebe to drink a large whisky?’

  Cassie nodded.

  ‘Then we’ll give her two large whiskies.’

  ‘This won’t do at all, Mattie,’ Cassie said crisply. ‘It really won’t. Do you read me? The very least you could do is spare me half an hour of your time. Understood?’

  Mattie shrugged, but Cassie knew from the look in his eyes he had already conceded. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But in that case it can’t be tonight.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Cassie retorted. ‘You just ring me when you find you have the time, and I’ll work round you. Goodbye.’

  She hurried on to her car, grabbing the keys from her pocket as she did so and crushing them in her hand until she almost cried out from the discomfort, so furious was she with herself for so nearly losing her grip.

  For the next two days Cassie spent all her free time collecting the information as requested by Joel. She compiled a detailed list of everyone who had ever had any connection with Claremore, Tyrone for as long as she had known him, herself, Claremore Racing and Claremore Foodstuffs. She included details of anyone who had ever defaulted on their training bills, anyone who had ever taken their horse or horses away either for a given reason or simply in a fit of pique – a list which included Leonora’s mother who had removed her entire string from Tyrone’s management in an attempt to ruin him – owners who had changed their allegiance, owners with a known criminal background – a small but important group of suspects since it included Herr Brandt – anyone with a grudge however big or small for whatever sort of reason, be it an alleged unfair dismissal or an accident on the schooling grounds, as well as everyone who
had or had once had any sort of vested interest or investment in Claremore or the Rosses, everyone from absconding accountants to resentful bookmakers.

  ‘It made rather depressing reading,’ Cassie told Theodore over the dinner he had persuaded her to have with him at the end of the week. ‘I thought I had more friends than enemies, but it doesn’t seem to have panned out that way.’

  ‘Only because you’re not looking for your friends, Cassie,’ Theodore replied. ‘You are looking for those who would do you harm.’

  ‘Even so, it made me wonder how we ever got even this far, Theodore,’ Cassie said, accepting the offer of a second helping of wild salmon. ‘When you pull the curtains right back, it’s really pretty dark out there.’

  ‘Do you think your friend Mr Benson will unravel the mystery?’ Theodore asked, helping them both to some more. ‘Or do you think the trail – has gone cold. As I believe they say.’

  ‘I guess there’s no harm in his trying,’ Cassie said wearily. ‘Nothing ventured et cetera et cetera.’

  ‘He’s an odd sort of cove, wouldn’t you say? Or would you? Joel?’

  ‘You could call him that, I suppose,’ Cassie replied. ‘At least you could if you knew what a cove was.’

  ‘Slang for a chap, a fellow.’

  ‘Then yes, Joel Benson is an odd sort of a cove, you’re right.’

  ‘How do you feel about him?’ Theodore enquired cautiously, sipping just as carefully at his glass of white wine. ‘Obviously you feel as though you can trust him.’

  ‘As though I can trust him? Now I do. Yes.’

  Theodore raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly and smiled. ‘There was a time.’

  ‘There was a time, but that time’s over now.’

  ‘He’s a very brave sort of cove, too. That’s why he decided not to appeal?’

  ‘He’s worried they’ll turn him into some kind of folk hero.’

  ‘I’d have thought he’d taken that route by languishing in gaol, surely?’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  ‘Ah well. Chacun à son ideals. Your beautiful daughter. Now how is she?’

  ‘Pass.’

  Theodore gave her another slightly quizzical look, then shrugged, as if to let the matter rest. ‘Not a very happy time all round, then,’ he concluded. ‘Not a very happy time at all.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Cassie agreed.

  He waited until the next course had been served before continuing. It also gave him a chance to bring the conversation back to the subject which most interested him. ‘Cassie – might I ask you something, do you suppose?’ he enquired after his Filipino housekeeper had left them alone once more. ‘You don’t actually have to answer because in a way it really is none of my business, but I shall ask just the same. How best to put it, that is one’s main concern. Now then.’ He fell to silence as he stared down at the noisettes of lamb on the plate in front of him, which he then proceeded to cut carefully up as if performing the most delicate surgery. ‘I suppose really the point is that you have no proper idea of how I feel about you, if I may say so.’ He looked up at her as he finished the sentence. ‘There’s no real reason why you should, of course,’ he hurried on, lest Cassie should interrupt him and say something to the contrary. ‘There’s no real reason because of course I have never said anything to you about the feelings I might or indeed might not have. However. The point is that it has become uncommonly obvious – to me at any rate – it has become uncommonly obvious that a woman as charming and as lovely as you, Cassie, should not be living alone. The whole thing – is ridiculous. You there one side of the hill and me here the other side – to my mind that makes it even more ridiculous. Utterly so in fact, utterly so. What I am trying to say is this. No. No – no, what I first need to know is this – not what I am trying to say at all. Not at all. Not at all. No no no, no, let me start again altogether, because I am making a right hog’s breakfast out of this, so I am, so I am. To start from the beginning again, you see I don’t even know – in fact to be completely truthful, I haven’t an idea what you think about me. Not a clue.’

  ‘I think – you’re a saint.’

  ‘God forbid – that you should ever think that, Cassie. The last thing a man wants to be thought is a saint. A very devil, yes. But a saint, never.’

  ‘I’m not at all sure I know how to answer that,’ Cassie said, suddenly confused. ‘You’re a very kind, gentle, funny, adorable man—’

  ‘But a bit of a wildflower, yes?’ Theo smiled. ‘That’s what most people think. Nice enough, but – what they call – a friend of Dorothy’s.’ Theodore smiled again, which only made Cassie frown.

  ‘A wildflower?’ Cassie wondered. ‘A friend of Dorothy’s?’

  ‘It’s perfectly all right if you thought so,’ Theodore continued, for all the world as if Cassie understood. ‘That is what most women think, that the reason I’ve not been married is because I’m one of these people described in their obituaries as the sort of man who remained a bachelor. Don’t tell me that wasn’t what you thought as well, for I won’t believe you for a moment.’

  ‘I did no such thing,’ Cassie tried to assure him, knowing the opposite was true, particularly when she remembered Josephine’s laughter at the thought of her mother going to dine with her gynaecologist. He’s as gay as the famous bee, Mums, she’d told her later. Surely you can see that for yourself. He’s as camp as a row of bell tents.

  There was a long silence, during which time Theodore looked at Cassie as if expecting her to say something further. But at this point Cassie had nothing more to add, so she too waited for the next development.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Our food will be ruined. We must eat.’

  He began to eat, almost mechanically as did Cassie hardly noticing how delicious the food was. When they were more than halfway through the course, he put down his knife and fork, drank some claret and then cleared his throat.

  ‘Cassie, I must tell you something no-one else here knows,’ he said, ‘and it is very important that I do so. I have been married, d’you see. Not only happily married, but ecstatically so. Indeed. Indeed.’ The second indeed was more of an echo, a small lament at some long-standing memory. Cassie quietly put down her own knife and fork and waited for the unfolding of the tragedy she knew was to follow. ‘I qualified here, at the College of Surgeons of course, then finished my studies in America, do you see. There I worked until fifteen years ago – and there I lived with Bryony, my wife. Then of all things—’ Theo stopped and cleared his throat quietly once more, as time carried him back across the years. ‘Then of all things Bree became pregnant at long last. We’d simply not had the luck till then. There was nothing wrong with either of us, we just simply hadn’t had the luck. So after twelve years of marriage Bree became pregnant. Now, she wouldn’t let me attend her – some sort of superstition she had. She went to another man and the long and short of it is I lost her in childbirth. Child and mother died. They both died. The child, a boy, lived for an hour, but Bree never regained consciousness. It was absolutely nobody’s fault, the surgeon’s least of all. Bree suffered a massive stroke which killed her within minutes, the miracle being that they got the baby delivered at all. But there you are. Some things are meant, and some things are not. And there you are.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘There is no need to be sorry, Cassie, no need at all. Why I’m telling you this is that once she was gone, the point is I could only come back here. I couldn’t stay over there, it was quite impossible, so I came back here to my father’s house. Now the long and short of it, as I was saying, was that I never had any intention of getting married again, nor even thinking about it. I simply had no wish to, which was why I never did anything to discourage people from seeing me as the sort of man who never married. Never did anything about it, that is, until you came along.’

  ‘Theodore—’

  ‘No, no—’ He inclined his head on one side and smiled to stop her. ‘No, there is no need f
or you to say anything here at this juncture, that is other than whether or not you’re going to marry this Benson chap. I know in a way it’s really none of my business, but then in another way, do you see? It is.’

  ‘I haven’t even considered marriage, Theodore,’ Cassie replied none the less. ‘No, that’s not true. I’m sorry. Joel has made me consider marriage—’

  ‘Then he has asked you.’

  ‘No – no, he’s made me consider marriage in so much as he’s made me look back at the marriage I had and consider whether or not that is all the marriage I might ever want.’

  ‘And your conclusion? Have you reached one?’

  ‘No, not yet. That’s why I have not considered marrying Joel.’

  ‘In that case, enough said.’ Theo drank some more wine and looked at Cassie over his glasses and gave a shake of his handsome grey head. ‘Truth to tell, Cassie, even if you do marry your Don Quixote – in fact even if you marry two dozen men in a row – I would still be there waiting. Now – enough is more than enough, so drink some more of this wine of which we have not had enough, because it’s far too fine to leave to go brown in the decanter – and let us talk of other things. Such as shoes and ships and sealing wax. And whether pigs have wings. The last most particularly.’

  Having poured them both two more large glasses of claret, Theo tapped the top of the heavy cut glass decanter back in place and sat back to begin a long and learned discussion on the social subtext of his favourite opera.

  If nothing else, Theodore Pilkington’s intimations forced Cassie to review her situation afresh. With Joel locked away in prison on the other side of the Irish Sea and her financial and family affairs in such disarray she had been feeling more vulnerable than she had felt since she had lost Tyrone. There had been many occasions since when she had wondered whether or not she could manage not only her family life but the whole of the Claremore Racing enterprise by herself, but somehow she had always found the strength to conquer her doubts and the resolution to overcome those particular difficulties. Yet always at the back of her mind there lingered one major concern, whether or not alone she would finally have the strength to cope with disaster on a far more major scale.