Valentina was watching her from beneath lowered lids, and Rhia shook her head. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, steadying herself for what she had to say. ‘I’ve got to be leaving soon.’
Valentina nodded, then she clutched her sister’s sleeve. ‘Rhia?’
‘How do you know Glyn’s still unconscious? Did you phone the hospital?’
‘No.’ Valentina gave a negative reply. ‘They phoned me.’
‘They phoned you?’ Rhia’s brows arched. ‘But——’
Valentina hunched her shoulders. ‘It was my handbag. I—I left my handbag in the car.’
‘Val!’
Valentina sniffed. ‘That’s why I had to see you, don’t you see? I—I want you to tell them that I spent the night at the flat.’
Rhia gulped. ‘But—why?’ She looked blank. ‘What good will that do?’
‘Glyn’s flat isn’t far from the hospital. Like I said before, he could have dropped me and been on his way back to his flat.’
‘Dropped you—at the flat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? Why not at the hospital?’
Valentina sighed impatiently. ‘Rhia, I’ve got to have an alibi, don’t you see? I told you what happened. I—I walked the streets for hours. I didn’t go back to the hostel until this morning. That’s when I discovered they’d been—trying to find me.’
Now Rhia understood everything. Valentina hadn’t wanted to confide in her. On the contrary, had she not made the mistake of leaving her handbag in the car, she, Rhia, might never have learned of Val’s part in the affair. But now she was cornered and, as usual, she expected Rhia to provide a solution.
‘So what did you say?’ Rhia asked now, her voice cooler than before.
‘I told them I’d been with you,’ cried Valentina fiercely. ‘What else could I say?’
Rhia was angry. ‘So all this is just academic. You’re not really asking for my help, you’re telling me I’ve got to give it.’
‘Rhia, it’s not like that.’
‘Then what is it like?’
‘Rhia, you have no idea how I felt. I had to think of something, some reason why I hadn’t spent the night at the nurses’ home. I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?’
Rhia was appalled. ‘There are times, Val——’
‘I know, I know.’ Valentina was sulky. ‘For heaven’s sake, it’s only a little thing.’
‘A little thing?’ Rhia clenched her fists. ‘If Glyn dies, you’ll have made me an accessory to manslaughter!’
‘He won’t die——’
‘I hope not.’ Rhia took a deep breath. ‘Because if he does, Val, I have no intention of standing by and letting you get away scot-free!’
Back at her desk that afternoon, Rhia found it incredibly difficult to concentrate. Her mind buzzed with the things Valentina had told her. She could hardly believe her sister could have got herself into such a mess, and the implications were all bad. At times like this, she wondered how she and Val could have the same parents and yet be so different. It made her doubt her own assessment of her sister, and she realised that since Val left school, a gulf had opened between them that she could never bridge.
Her immediate boss, George Wyatt, was not particularly sympathetic to his secretary’s loss of concentration. He was a man in late middle age, with all the accompanying afflictions of the successful business-man: a short temper, an expanding girth, and an ulcer. Generally, he and Rhia worked together very well, she competent and independent, well able to handle clients alone, if necessary, and adept at anticipating her employer’s every whim. She attended to his engagements, pacified his wife on occasion, and handed him his tablets when his ulcer was playing up; but this afternoon she was self-absorbed and absentminded, and Mr Wyatt lost no time in giving her the edge of his impatience.
‘Rhia, are you deliberately trying to annoy me?’ he demanded, pointing to the tray on his desk. ‘I’ve asked you twice to hand me the Macdonald file, and you’ve simple ignored me!’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Wyatt.’ Rhia was flushed and apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—I—er—I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’
‘I wish that was all I had,’ retorted George Wyatt shortly. ‘This pain in my gut is tearing me to pieces, but do I complain?’
Frequently, Rhia was tempted to reply, but she merely gave a conciliatory shake of her head and tried to apply herself to his dictation. But it wasn’t easy, and later in the afternoon, checking the results of her shorthand, she hoped Mr Wyatt would not remember word for word exactly what he had said.
The board meeting was blessedly brief, and Rhia breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged from the building to find Simon’s car waiting in the staff parking area. The rain had ceased, and it was a mild April evening, the slowly illuminating lights of the city adding a sparkle to the darkening streets.
‘You’re early,’ Simon greeted her, as she slid into the seat beside him, and deposited an affectionate kiss at the corner of her mouth.
‘So are you,’ she agreed, returning his salutation warmly. ‘Thank goodness it’s Friday. I’m exhausted!’
‘You do look a little pale,’ Simon nodded, studying her features, despite the shadows of the car. ‘What’s wrong? Has Wyatt been rather tetchy again? I heard that his son was arrested for drunken driving the other evening.’
‘Did you?’ Rhia turned her face away, and moved her shoulders offhandedly. ‘Let’s go, shall we? I’m—starving!’
In truth, food was the last thing she needed, but Simon’s innocent remark had been too close for comfort. For the first time, she wondered if Valentina and Glyn had been drinking, and whether this was the reason Valentina had chosen to keep out of reach until morning.
‘By the way,’ Simon had noticed nothing amiss, ‘I’ve got tickets for the Bartok concert on Sunday. I know you said you weren’t terribly keen, but you’ll enjoy it, I know you will.’
‘Will I?’ Rhia gave him a swift appraising look. Right now, the idea of Bartok was like the idea of food—nauseating!
‘What’s the matter?’ At last Simon had detected some change in her attitude. ‘You seem—tense. Is anything wrong?’
‘No.’ Rhia forced a light laugh. ‘You know how it is. The weekend comes and you just feel like doing nothing.’
Simon frowned. ‘You’re not annoyed about Wednesday, are you? I just couldn’t get away. Those tiles in the kitchen have been impossible to match, and what with the rehearsals for the school play——’
‘Oh, no, honestly,’ Rhia hastened to reassure him. Simon took his work as a teacher very seriously, and it wasn’t his fault that his mother demanded so much of his free time. She was old, after all, and widowed, and Rhia sometimes wondered what she would do if Simon ever decided to move out. Perhaps she expected, if he got married, his wife would be prepared to move in, but Rhia knew she could never share a house with Simon’s mother. Mrs Travis was too set in her ways, too demanding, and certainly too attached to her son to allow any other woman to usurp her place in his affections.
‘You know what Mother’s like,’ Simon went on now, starting the car. ‘She hates the place to be in a mess, and the kitchen has taken longer than I expected.’
‘You have had to go to work as well,’ Rhia pointed out reasonably, glad to deflect him from her problems. ‘I think your mother forgets that.’
‘I