Hearts and Diamonds Read Free Page A

life. You aren’t the feral youth from the estate any more. You are a grown man with an exceptional talent, and the potential to build an international career and reputation. So stop being such a mardy arse.’
    He smirked at the local epithet.
    ‘Mardy arse yerself,’ he said.
    ‘All I’m asking,’ she said, more calmly, ‘is for you to come down to London and meet Tabitha. No press previews, no champagne receptions, no nothing unless you want it. Just a meeting.’
    He tugged at a dandelion root, pulling it clear of the ground. Jenna watched as he gazed contemplatively at its fluffy head then blew on it, sending the seeds afloat on the warm air.
    ‘I’ve never been to London,’ he said.
    ‘What, never?’ Jenna knew, of course, that Bledburn had a high proportion of people who had never left the county. Some had never left the town. It still surprised her, though.
    ‘Never. There was a school trip once, to some gallery. The Tate, I think. But Mum couldn’t afford it.’ He threw the dandelion stalk aside. ‘Apparently Kieran Manning set off the sprinkler system. I wish I’d seen that.’
    ‘Well, you can go to the Tate. And every gallery in town, if you like. Don’t set off the sprinklers though.’
    ‘Could do with ’em today.’ He looked up at the sky where the sun was boiling away already, only halfway up to its zenith. ‘OK. I’ll come to London. No guarantees, though. But I’ll listen to what your mate has to say, at least.’
    ‘That’s all I ask.’
    She laid her head on his shoulder and they stood together, held in each other’s arms, swaying gently among the waist-high weeds, until the familiar intrusion of a helicopter sent them back indoors.
    ‘You’re wasting your time,’ Jenna shouted at it from the patio door. ‘The police have all gone. Go and pick on some other Z lister.’
    ‘You aren’t a Z lister,’ said Jason, laughing and pulling her inside. ‘You’re a lot nearer the beginning of the alphabet, aren’t you?’
    ‘I don’t know. All this controversy is keeping my name in the papers, but that isn’t what I wanted. I wanted
peace
.’
    ‘You should have bought a desert island instead of this place. Couldn’t you do that? Go on. Buy somewhere nice and hot in the middle of the sea and I’ll come and be your Robinson Crusoe. Sleep in a hammock and live on coconuts. Reckon I could handle that.’
    ‘It’s a nice thought, but . . .’
    She sighed as her ‘important contacts’ phone rang again. This time it was the police.
    Jason watched her, his head on one side, as she nodded and made non-committal noises into it. Halfway through, he got bored and started tinkering with the cafetière, making a fresh pot after the burnt offering.
    ‘Not your mate again?’
    ‘No, it was the police.’
    He always tensed when she mentioned the police – she supposed it was hardly surprising, after what he had been through.
    ‘It’s all right, they aren’t after you.’
    ‘Good,’ he said, giving her a wry smile. ‘I always get that feeling, you know, that they’re going to get me for something else, something I don’t even know about. I can’t shake it. I don’t feel as if it’s over yet.’
    ‘They’ve got the right people this time. You’re in the clear. Anyway, it wasn’t about that. It was about the bones in the cellar. The forensic anthropologist had a look at them.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Human, female, older than twenty but younger than forty, no obvious cause of death, probably died somewhere around the end of the nineteenth century.’
    ‘Right.’ Jason shrugged and shook his head. ‘Poor cow,’ he said. ‘So, what are they going to do?’
    ‘Nothing. I mean, what can they do? They can’t go around looking into centuries-old cases, can they? They’ll just shut up the cellar again and do . . . whatever it is they do . . . with the bones.’
    ‘Shouldn’t they have a decent burial? After being hidden down there all these years.’
    ‘What’s her name,