Free Light by Eric Rendel Page B

during the holocaust in the Nazi camps of
Eastern Europe.  Pictures of naked and emaciated people; pictures of the dead
or dying, the sick and feeble; pictures that showed the total depravity of
humanity once the beast inside had been released.  If these images were
anything to go by, Cherry Linford’s was a soul in torment.  Why?
    Almost overawed by his surroundings,
Jake’s hello was barely noticeable, almost faltering.  The response was
therefore doubly surprising.  Curt, sharp and uncompromising.
    ‘Let’s get down to it.  I’m a busy woman. 
What can I do for you?’
    This was going to be tough.
    ‘As I explained on the telephone I’m a
freelance journalist.  I read the article in the Times the other week and I’ve
seen your work in the library.  I’m planning an article about artists who paint
to reveal their emotion.  Knowing that you lived locally I thought that this
was an excellent place to start.
    ‘Take, for instance, the canvas before
you.  What does that represent?’
    ‘Mr Tranton.  Everything you might ask was
contained in the Times article.  The only logical reason to agree to a second
interview is to publicise my work.  As that is quite unnecessary you will need
a very good reason before I will agree to discuss my work with you.’
    (What a little cow.)
    ‘Miss Linford, you are being unfair.’
    ‘Am I?  Mr Tranton.  Please.  I have
agreed to see you with the greatest reluctance.  If you have nothing particular
that you wish to say to me perhaps you could leave.’
    ‘But...’
    ‘No, Mr Tranton, I’m quite serious.  The
door is over there.’
    For the first time in his life, Jake felt
defeated.  His reputation would be shot to hell.  Was there nothing he could
do?
    ‘Miss Linford...’
    ‘That’s enough.  Please…Go!’
    Jake could see that it was over. 
Reluctantly, he approached the chair and held out his right hand in order to
shake hers.  The girl did not respond but just looked at him coldly.  It was as
he dropped his arm that Jake realised that her manner changed drastically.  Her
eyes had focused on his ring and the look upon her face was one of sheer
astonishment.  There was only one thing it could mean; that she did know about
the stones, but what did she know and, more importantly, whose side was she on?
    ‘Miss Linford.  Are you all right?’
    She seemed confused.  Not really the
reactions of an enemy.
    ‘Miss Linford?’
    ‘I’m sorry; I really am.  Whatever must
you think of me?’
    Jake looked at her expectantly.  Somehow,
he was not worried by her discomfiture.  He waited for her to begin.
    ‘Please,’ she started, ‘May I see your
hand again?’
    Rather pleased at developments Jake
complied.  He knew better than to give away his interest.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Your ring.  May I ask?  Where did you get
it?’
    ‘It’s been in the family for ages.  Why?’
    She could hardly contain her enthusiasm.
    ‘Wait a second, please.  I’ve got
something to show you,’ Cherry said as she rushed from the room and Jake prayed
that she was going to produce her goblet.
    At last he heard footsteps and turned to
see Cherry arriving with a deep blue Phillips bag.  She sat down upon the only
seat and lifted out a cardboard box.  From this she produced the cup.
    ‘Please, take a look at this.  Look at the
stone.  Isn’t it carved like the one on your ring?’
    Jake made a show of examining the item. 
Obviously, he knew the answer to that.
    ‘You’re right,’ he replied, with just the
right degree of wonder in his voice, ‘That’s a coincidence isn’t it.  How long
have you had it?’
    Cherry laughed, ‘Since this morning
actually.  I only bought it today in an auction.
    ‘But that’s amazing.  It really is.  If
you don’t mind me asking, why did you buy it?’
    She looked at him with suspicion.
    ‘I’d rather not say.’
    ‘Why?’ and he knew that he had said the
wrong thing.
    ‘Mr Tranton, you are a stranger in