Read Online Name To a Face by Robert Goddard - Free Book Online

a pub.”
    “What?”
    “Simple as that. I’m sorry to say.”
    “But I left-” Harding heard her sigh. “Couldn’t you have been more careful?”
    “I wish I had been.”
    “How am I going to keep in touch with you now?”
    “Call me here. You’d better tell Barney that as well. Say
I
phoned
you.”
    “When were you going to, exactly?”
    “Soon, of course. I suppose I was hoping…” He rubbed his eyes, which were still not focusing properly. “Never mind.”
    “Has anything else gone wrong?”
    “No. I’ve seen the ring. Nice-looking piece. There’ll be no problem. I’ll fly home on Wednesday, as planned. I got your message about Thursday.”
    “And?”
    “I’ll be all yours.”
    Harding had surprised himself by the extent to which he was prepared to mislead Carol. Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he shaved, he acknowledged the deceit inherent in just one of the phrases he had uttered.
“There’ll be no problem.”
In truth there already was a problem. Indeed, there were several. And they seemed to be multiplying.
    He was paged during breakfast.
Mr.
Tozer was on the telephone now. He took the call in reception.
    “You want to watch those Cornish,” chortled Barney. “They’ve had to diversify since wrecking went out of fashion.”
    “I’m glad you’re amused.”
    “Other people’s misfortunes are always a hoot. Lose your wallet as well, did you? What about your passport?”
    “It was just the phone.”
    “Oh, well, not so bad, then. How’s it going at Heartsease?”
    “Fine. Your friend Isbister doesn’t seem to think there’ll be much competition for the ring. It should be a doddle.”
    “And Humph’s happy to let you deal with it?”
    “Content, certainly.” Strictly speaking, Harding supposed he should have checked on Humphrey’s state of mind since his visit to Heartsease. But, then, why should the man
not
be content?
    “Plain sailing, then?”
    “Looks like it.”
    “Take the day off from my family, Tim. Relax. Pretend you’re a tourist.”
    “Yeah. Good idea.”
     
    ***
     
    Unaccountably, Harding
did
feel relaxed as he made his way down to the railway station later that morning. Patches of blue were breaking through the grey hummocked clouds. It was almost warm when the wind dropped. He had been to St. Ives with Polly of course. It had been an obvious place to go from Penzance. But he did not feel remotely morbid about returning there. Hayley’s company-and the intriguing question of where and when they had met before-would keep his memories of that day at bay.
    She arrived a few minutes after he had bought the tickets, wearing a lightweight parka over a sweater, a loosely pleated skirt and soft pinky-grey boots. She looked as pleased to see him as he felt to see her.
    “I can’t describe what a relief it is to be out of the house today, Tim,” she said as they boarded the train. “I know this auction is what Gabriel wanted, but it still seems indecent somehow.”
    “It’ll soon be over.”
    “Yes. And then Heartsease will be an empty shell. With just me left in it.”
    “Any idea yet what you’ll do when it’s sold?”
    “No. Like I told you, I don’t want to go back to London. But I may have to.”
    “D’you have family there?”
    She laughed. “Is this the start of a softly-softly interrogation to find out when we might’ve met?”
    He laughed too. “Sort of.”
    “Then we’ll have some rules. As far as life stories go, you start.”
    Harding’s potted autobiography was over by the time they had reached St. Ives. It would have been over sooner, but for Hayley’s disarming line in probing questions. These were not about the feasibility of some chance meeting they might both have forgotten, which she clearly did not believe had happened, but homed in rather on a subject Harding was far from comfortable with: the emotional journey his life had taken him on.
    “Do you blame yourself at all for your wife’s death?” she asked