Free Snapped in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page B

Paul?’
    ‘Yes. Hello.’
    Paul nodded but did not speak. He seemed uncomfortable, for which Rose did not blame him. She should have refused the invitation. Surely tongues would wag when it was known that Dennis had entertained a single woman to dinner only a few days after his wife’s death. And it would be known, she was quite sure. Doreen would not be able to keep it to herself. At least Paul was present too.
    Dennis poured drinks and between them they managed to fill the half-hour until Doreen said the meal was ready with small talk relating mostly to art and Rose’s business. ‘Dennis,’ Rose said, ‘I brought some proofs up the other night. Do you know what happened to them?’ It was not a tactful question but the police seemed suspicious of her and Dennis had looked at them with his wife.
    ‘No. We chose what we wanted. I assumed you’d taken them with you. The police were asking me about them too.’
    They went into the dining-room. Rose let the subject drop.
    The house was quiet. Rose had seen the mobile unit outside and wondered if there were actually any men upstairs. Surely by now they would have searched every inch of the place for whatever it was they hoped to find.
    The meal was plain but it was hot. Rose’s appetite was blunted as she watched her male companions push their food around their plates.
    ‘I’m off now,’ Doreen said after she had served the main course. ‘There’s cheese if you’re still hungry.’ Rose did not blame her for going to no further trouble. Her efforts would have been wasted.
    ‘Have you made any wedding plans yet?’ she asked Paul to try to involve him in the conversation.
    ‘We hadn’t, but I spoke to Anna yesterday and we decided there’s no point in waiting any longer.’
    ‘Waiting?’ It was an odd choice of words. She studied Paul. Straight-nosed, thin-lipped, with soft greyish-blue eyes which did not reflect whatever he might be feeling. His skin was waxen and his hands shook. He was difficult to age but assuming Dennis and Gabrielle were in their early fifties he was probably between twenty-five and thirty.
    ‘Having seen you can never tell what’s around the next corner, we thought we might as well go ahead.’
    Paul seemed unable to refer to his mother or her death but at least he was making an effort to talk.
    ‘Where will you live?’
    ‘In London. Our work’s there and it wouldn’t suit us down here. It’s too quiet.’
    From that statement Rose thought Gabrielle might have left the house to her son rather than her husband.
    ‘As long as Anna’s happy, that’s all I care about.’ For a second there was a flicker of enthusiasm in Paul’s manner. It did not last.
    ‘And you, Dennis? Have you made any plans?’ Rose was bored with treading around the subject. She had been asked here yet neither man seemed to have noticed she had actually arrived. Perhaps, she thought, Dennis, having been unable to speak to Paul himself, hoped she would break the ice. In which case Gabrielle’s name could no longer be ignored. ‘I know it’s early days yet, but what will you do with Gabrielle’s house?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He smiled wanly. ‘I’m still coming to terms with her not being here. There are problems with my company at the moment, it may be that I’ll decide to live here.’
    ‘But you …’ Paul stopped. There was a tinge of colour across his sharp cheekbones.
    His father misunderstood him. ‘I wouldn’t miss London. I’ve had my share of the rat-race. If I could get fixed up with something, a lower salary wouldn’t bother me. If not,’ he wiped his mouth with his serviette, ‘well, I’d have to sell and find something smaller. Something like your house, Rose.’
    Paul stood up and went over to the table against the wall upon which Doreen had placed cheese, a jug of celery and a basket of biscuits. Rose saw his actions were to hide his feelings, to prevent him saying something he might regret, rather than because he was