The House of Vandekar Read Free Page A

the house. The furniture was mostly original, purchased when the house was sold by the Vandekar executors.
    That didn’t tell him much. But he had a feeling that something was left out. It was all a little too bland. What happened to the Vandekar millions? Why was the house sold?
    â€˜Hello,’ said Nancy.
    He looked up and put the booklet down. He saw a blaze of diamonds on her dress. He felt as if he’d been looking at her a few minutes earlier.
    â€˜I tried not to be too long,’ she said.
    â€˜That’s all right. What would you like to drink?’
    â€˜The same as you, I think.’
    We were meant to be celebrating, he thought. Champagne, a special dinner. I’ve got a birthday present upstairs that I was going to give to her. It wouldn’t look much beside that brooch.
    â€˜I’ve been reading this.’ He held out the booklet. ‘It doesn’t say a great deal.’
    â€˜I don’t suppose it does,’ Nancy said. She didn’t read it. ‘Have you looked at the portrait?’ She got up and went to stand in front of it.
    David followed her. A member of the staff watched them from the other side of the hall. He was used to people admiring the picture. It was one of the focal points in the whole house. A beautiful work of art as well as a memorial to a fascinating woman.
    â€˜She was very beautiful,’ Nancy said. ‘It doesn’t flatter her.’
    The painted figure was just below lifesize, the work of a fashionable portrait painter in the fifties who said that the sitter had inspired him to do his best work. The woman was very slim, with a sensual body draped in a blue dress that was moulded to the breast and thigh. She was very blonde, with a white skin and dazzling blue eyes that seemed to follow you. The neck was exaggerated, a little too long, the bare arms and shoulders highlighted against the dark background. The expression was challenging, proud and provocative. She wore no jewellery except a glittering dab of light at her breast.
    â€˜There’s a strong look of you,’ David said. ‘Isn’t that the same as you’re wearing … the same brooch?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Nancy answered. ‘She gave it to my mother as a wedding present and my mother left it to me.’ She stood staring up at the picture. ‘She hated cowards,’ she said suddenly. ‘She wouldn’t be proud of the way I’ve run away. Let’s sit down, David.’
    He drank his whisky, waiting for her to speak. There was a look, a definite resemblance between that self-confident beauty in the portrait and the woman he had been going to ask to marry him that weekend. ‘My real name is Vandekar. Alice Vandekar was my grandmother.’ No wonder he sensed she was different.
    â€˜Why did you change your name?’
    She looked at him, and he realized she had been far away, thinking of someone else. ‘Vandekar’s a famous name. You say you were born in this house. Why were you running away, Nancy?’
    â€˜It seemed the only thing to do,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make a new life, forget everything. I’ve just told you, I was a coward. You really want to know about my family? About me?’
    â€˜I really want to.’ There was no give in him at all.
    â€˜It’s a long story,’ Nancy said quietly, ‘and things may never be the same for us again … We all lived here together, my cousins Ben and Phyllis – they were my aunt’s children – and my father and mother. This was our home, whether our parents had houses in London or not. Alice liked having the grandchildren. At least she liked having me near her. I was always her favourite. But then she simply worshipped my father. You’re still angry, aren’t you?’
    â€˜No,’ he said. ‘Just curious. I’ve lived with you for six months and I don’t know anything about you. It’s a funny