Free Person or Persons Unknown by Anthea Fraser

‘Before I forget,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much for showing it to me.’
    â€˜Have you asked permission to quote from it?’
    â€˜Not yet, but I’m hoping to meet Mr Latymer next week, at a fundraising event.’
    â€˜I wonder if he remembers writing it,’ Catherine mused. ‘How’s the portrait coming along?’
    â€˜All right, I believe.’
    â€˜You haven’t seen it?’
    â€˜Oh no; work in progress is kept strictly under wraps. Quite literally, in fact: last time I went into the studio, Max draped a cloth over the easel.’
    Catherine laughed. ‘I’m sure if I were having my portrait done, I’d want to look at it after every session.’ She hesitated. ‘Did you ask him about speaking to our group?’
    â€˜Yes, but I’m afraid the response was as I expected.’
    Their coffee and pastries arrived, and Rona embarked on her Viennese slice.
    â€˜You seem to have had a successful shop,’ she commented, glancing at the packages on the floor.
    â€˜So-so. I still haven’t found a present for my son; it’s his birthday next week.’
    Rona looked up in surprise. ‘You have a son?’
    â€˜I have indeed, and a daughter-in-law. They live in Cricklehurst.’
    â€˜I don’t know why, but I never—’ Rona broke off in confusion, belatedly remembering the young couple in the photograph who, for some reason, she’d assumed to be a niece or nephew.
    â€˜Don’t I look maternal?’ Catherine asked, with an amused smile. ‘Let me try to redeem myself: Daniel works for a computer firm in Stokely and his wife, Jenny, manages a flower shop. They’ve been married three years now, and one reason I didn’t leave Marsborough when my mother died was because it was within easy reach of them without being on their doorstep.’
    Rona’s face was flushed. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to—’
    â€˜My dear, there’s nothing to apologize for; I’m just surprised I’ve never happened to mention them. Your—’ She broke off, flushing in her turn.
    There was a brief, taut silence, then Catherine said quietly, ‘This is ridiculous; what I was going to say is that your father has met them – or, at least, Daniel.’
    Rona gazed at her, mouth suddenly dry, and she went on quickly, ‘He very gallantly came to our rescue – twice, in fact. I was waiting for a bus one day when my car was in dock, and he kindly stopped and ran me home. And as if that weren’t imposition enough, while we were having a cup of tea, Daniel phoned to say Jenny was having a miscarriage.’ Her brows drew together, remembering. ‘It would have meant a taxi all the way to Stokely, but your father insisted on driving me there. It was so kind of him.’
    Some comment seemed called for, and Rona forced herself to say, ‘I see.’ And she did – partly. It explained how the friendship – if that’s what it was – had begun, but she’d seen them together on a totally different occasion.
    Catherine was watching her a little warily, perhaps anticipating further questioning, but loyalty to her father prevented it. Instead, Rona added simply, ‘That sounds like Pops.’
    Embarrassed and uncertain, she’d suddenly had enough of the discussion, and, hurriedly finishing her coffee, she retrieved her handbag and took out her purse.
    Catherine shook her head. ‘This is on me,’ she said firmly, as she signalled for the bill. ‘I was glad of the chance to see you again. I do hope, now our professional contact is over, we can still meet occasionally?’
    â€˜I’d like that,’ Rona said awkwardly, wondering, even as she spoke, if it was the truth. Certainly when she’d first met Catherine, she’d hoped a friendship would develop between them; she had found the older woman’s sense of calm