Andee looked impressed and intrigued. ‘Is that how she talks about herself during your discussions?’ she asked.
‘Kind of, but not always. To be honest, I never really know what she’s thinking, apart from the fact that these many years on she’s pretty disdainful of herself. Anyway, from the way she tells it she was definitely in love with him, insofar as any girl that age can be in love, but here’s the thing, I reckon she still is. In fact, I think it’s very possible she married him.’
Andee blinked in surprise.
Joely threw out her hands, indicating her own surprise. ‘I know it might sound crazy, but her husband had a serious passion for music; there’s a room in the house where his piano and other instruments are still in the positions they were in the day he died, three years ago. It’s like a shrine, I suppose. I don’t know how often she goes in there, the housekeeper does to clean, but the shutters are always closed and I think the doors are kept locked.’
‘But if she married him, where’s the scandal, or drama – or tragedy? Aren’t we looking for a tragedy?’
‘Listen, I’ve no idea if I’m right. It’s just a guess. I mean, I get that her first love and her husband both having an affinity for music doesn’t make them one and the same person, I’m only saying that they could be.’
‘So you’ve got no idea yet what happens next?’
‘I dare not ask. She’s made it abundantly clear that she detests second-guessing in readers – in ghostwriters it could be a capital offence. Now here’s the other thing, this story is starting to get to me in a way it probably shouldn’t, and I think that’s for two reasons: one is being shut up in that house, gorgeous as it is, with no one to talk to apart from the chess master of mind games, namely my host. The other is she has a way of telling her story, when we’re talking, that makes me feel as though I’m involved, it could even be me she’s talking about.’
Andee pulled a face. ‘You really are starting to sound crazy now,’ she commented drily.
Joely laughed. ‘OK, we know the power good storytellers can exert over readers, they toss us around, get us onside only to throw us onto the horns of dilemmas before snatching us back because they’ve introduced someone or something new. They can totally wring us out. Of course, generally we’re reading a book that we can put aside and forget about for a few hours while we think about something else. That’s what I keep trying to do with this, but the problem is, my something else is always Callum and Martha, who I’m also starting to see in scenes she’s described – which is really horrible, let me tell you. And now let me show you this. It’s a text that managed to get through to me last night from Holly.’
As she passed over her phone she took a large sip of wine and felt grateful all over again that Andee had been able to make it today.
Andee read aloud, ‘Turns out they haven’t gone away for weekend. Went to pick up some stuff and they were there, so obvs trying to get rid of me.’ Andee’s eyes showed both confusion and concern as she looked up.
‘I tried calling her,’ Joely said, ‘but the signal wasn’t good enough, so I ended up speaking to Mum from the Valley of Rocks.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘That’s how far I had to go before I could make a decent connection. OK, the very last place you’d expect to get one, but it happened, and take it from me, that geological wonder is not a soothing place to be after dark. However, after receiving that text I needed to talk to someone; Holly was unavailable by the time I got a signal, probably because she’s tripping out on acid somewhere – that’s Freda’s influence, so forget that.’ She clasped her hands to her head. ‘See, I’m starting to think my own daughter is taking drugs and probably getting off with her piano teacher, that’s how much this story is getting to me – and she’s not even learning piano. Anyway, Holly wasn’t answering her phone, but Mum did. Apparently Holly went to Martha’s row house …’
‘Row house?’
‘It’s a derogatory term for terraced house. When she got there, she saw straight away that both Callum’s and Martha’s cars were outside and the lights were on downstairs. So she peeked through the window and saw them sitting on the sofa sharing a bottle of wine – and we can only feel thankful that’s all they were doing, given his daughter was the peeping Tom.’
Andee pulled an expression of wry distaste.
‘Precisely,’ Joely responded, hurting far more deeply than she was showing. ‘So they lied to get rid of her; she knows it; she’s furious, devastated, Mum says, and swearing she’ll never go back there again in her life. My dilemma now is should I go home to sort her out or let Callum deal with it?’
Andee took the menu a waiter was passing her. ‘I’m guessing,’ she said, ‘that you already have an answer.’
Joely had to smile. ‘Not me, my amazing mum. She says she can deal with Holly even though she knows there’s probably a scene brewing between her and Callum. She thinks I should let him make a mess of it, because we’re sure he will, and when the time is right I can sweep in to sort it all out.’
‘And take Holly home with you?’
‘That’s my second-best outcome. My best is that he comes too and we go back to being a family.’
Clearly hearing the catch in her voice, Andee reached out to squeeze her hand.
Joely put on a laugh, and knowing she ought to get off the subject now, she said, ‘Have you tried the mussels in this place? They’re the best I’ve ever had.’
Andee studied the menu and after deciding to have the same as Joely she said, ‘I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.’
Joely feigned confusion. ‘You mean about Freda?’
‘No, about you. I’m not sure …’
‘Honestly, there’s nothing.’ Joely insisted. ‘Stop looking so worried, everything’s fine with me, apart from my marriage breaking up, obviously, and this bonkers assignment I’m trying to work my way through.’
Though appearing reluctant to let it go, Andee finally said, ‘OK, going back to the husband and whether or not it’s Sir. Have you googled him? Do you even know his name?’
‘I didn’t, but I tried a different search this time, remember I’ve already googled her a few times, and before the connection dropped on me I discovered he is called David – not Michaels, but Donahoe – and he was a renowned copyist, particularly of the Impressionists. That chimes with what I already know about Mr D. She hasn’t mentioned anything yet about Sir being into art, but it might come.’
‘So if Michaels is a pseudonym, perhaps she did marry him. That’s definitely not where I was expecting the story to go.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Did it say how David Donahoe died?’
‘It seems there was an accident at sea in which another man also died. Nothing suspicious that I could find, just an accident in which two old friends out for a sail ran into trouble.’
Andee was looking pensive.
‘Are you putting your detective hat on?’ Joely asked hopefully.
Andee smiled. ‘Go on,’ she prompted. ‘Who else have you googled?’