False Picture Read Free

left her a title, his money and a considerable collection of pictures and objets d’art from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The newspapers had put her age at eighty-five.
    â€˜How come she was Philip’s godmother?’
    â€˜Sandy’s first wife went to art school, the Slade. Lucinda had given up being a model by then and was very wealthy, so she was one of the patrons. Sometimes she took an interest in the next generation, letting them fetch and carry for her, that sort of thing. Though why she would be interested in Sandy’s first wife is a mystery, since she’s a selfish bitch – pardon my language but she is, always taking advantage of his good nature. She thinks of nothing but how she can “fulfil” herself, that sort of thing. Almost the only thing she did for her little boy before she drifted out of the marriage was to get Lucinda to act as his godmother, thinking, I suppose, that she’d leave him some money when she died.’
    â€˜So how come Sandy visits Lucinda?’
    â€˜When she – Sandy’s first wife – left for distant parts, she asked him to keep an eye on Lucinda, who was getting rather peculiar even then. She wanted Sandy to keep reminding Lucinda of Philip’s existence because after all, who else would she leave all her money to? My dear Sandy is so good. He was looking after an old aunt anyway, so of course he said yes and so of course he did and does. Visit. Every other week, usually. I went with him a couple of times but you could see she really didn’t want to see anyone younger or more glam than herself.’
    Bea sipped her coffee. The newspaper report had suggested that Lady Farne had disturbed a burglar, been knocked down and died.
    â€˜It couldn’t have been Philip, could it?’ said Velma, ready to cry.
    â€˜How did you find out he’d got the picture?’
    â€˜A couple of nights ago we went round to collect Philip to take him out to supper, which is where we ate the calamari that made us so ill. Anyway, before we went out, Sandy had to use the loo, one of the problems of age, and Philip’s bedroom door was open and there was the picture, leaning against the wall. Sandy asked Philip where he’d got it, and Philip said his godmother had given it to him months ago for his birthday in February and of course dear Sandy knew that wasn’t right but he didn’t know what to think. He doesn’t think quickly dear, not like you or me. So we all went out to supper and still he said nothing till we got home that night and then he told me, and we were both sick as dogs and … well, the next day he went off to confront Philip and there was a terrible row, but Philip stuck to his story and now Sandy doesn’t know what to believe. Do I fancy some black coffee? No, I don’t think I do.’
    â€˜The picture was in Lady Farne’s flat a fortnight ago? But Philip insists he’s had it for four months?’
    Velma nodded, containing tears with an effort.
    â€˜Could she have given him a copy?’
    â€˜Lady Farne did not give house room to copies. Why should she? She’s a billionairess who could furnish a wing in a museum with what she’s got stuffed into that flat. She’s become increasingly eccentric of late years, and miserly. She complained about the gas bill, so there’s no heating in the flat. She had the phone cut off because she said the only people who used it were cold callers, and Sandy had to argue with British Telecom and pay something himself to get the service restored. She refused to wear one of those emergency thingies from the Social round her neck in case she fell, refused to have her light bulbs changed to energy saving because she’d have to spend some money out to get the benefit, you know. And as for insurance!’ Velma lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
    â€˜Sandy went on and on at her about keeping up the