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Because splashed across its dark wood in white paint were the words ‘BITCH’ and ‘SLAG’ in large uneven letters, while one of the glass panels at the top of the door now bore a gaping hole.
‘Dear God,’ said Jago, and brought the Jeep to an abrupt halt. ‘Stay there,’ he directed, jumping out.
She obeyed, largely because she was shaking too much to do otherwise. The ugly words seemed to be swimming in front of her eyes. Accusing her...
But why?
Jago came back, looking grim. ‘No one about,’ he said. ‘But I guess your own paint was used.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the garage door’s wide open, and the paint pot and brush have been thrown inside. They’d probably yield some interesting fingerprints, if you involved the police. Do you want to?’
She said hoarsely, ‘No. It—it must be vandals.’
His mouth twisted. ‘If you say so. However, the paint’s emulsion and still damp. If we’re quick, it might scrub off the door with hot water, some household cleaner and a stiff brush. Anyway, I can try.’
He came round to her side and opened the door. ‘Here, give me your hand, and your keys. I’ll have a go at the paint, but I can’t do much about the broken pane. Although, I could ring Ted Jackson. I bet among his friends and relations there’s a glazier prepared to turn out in an emergency.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, I don’t want him—or anybody in the village—to know about this. I’ll find someone in Yellow Pages tomorrow.’
Jago took her to the door and unlocked it, steering her carefully past the scatter of broken shards in the hall and the heavy stone responsible.
He said brusquely, ‘Go and sit down, while I clean up. You’re as white as a sheet.’ He paused. ‘Does your father have any brandy?’
She nodded. ‘On top of the bookcase in his study.’ Her voice shook. ‘He keeps it for parishioners who’ve had a shock, or are in some kind of trouble.’
He spoke more gently. ‘Then you definitely qualify on one count, if not two.’ He lifted her into his arms before she had time to protest and carried her into the sitting room, placing her on the sofa. ‘Now, stay there while I attend to everything.’
She leaned back against the cushions, still hardly able to believe what had happened. Trying almost desperately to make sense of it.
When Jago came back with the brandy, she said, ‘You don’t believe it’s hooligans. You think it’s Patrick, don’t you?’
He looked surprised. ‘Actually, no. He might shout and bluster, but this is sheer spite.’ His mouth tightened. ‘No, I have another candidate in mind.’
She grimaced over the brandy, but she could feel it dissolving the cold, numb feeling inside her. ‘I suppose you mean Fiona. But why?’
‘Because she’s just suffered a serious disappointment, and is lashing out because of it. Although she’s not alone in that.’
About to take another sip, she sat up instead, her eyes widening. ‘What’s happened? Have she and Patrick split up?’
He said coldly, ‘I neither know nor care. But would it necessarily be such a bad thing, if so?’
‘Yes.’
‘For God’s sake,’ he said wearily. ‘We’re not talking about some latter-day Romeo and Juliet here, but a couple of worthless cheats. If you remember.’
‘In other words, they’d be better off without each other.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That’s what people always say, isn’t it. But they forget something important.’
‘Which is?’
She said in a low voice, staring down at her brandy, ‘That you can’t help loving the wrong person. It happens, and it makes no difference to know that it’s totally one-sided, or that it could never work in a million years anyway, and that you’ll simply end up more lonely and more unhappy than you ever dreamed possible.’
She stopped abruptly, not daring to look up, scared that she had revealed too much. Even, heaven help her, given herself away.
There was a silence, then he said sardonically, ‘I bow to your superior wisdom in matters of the heart, Octavia, although perhaps wisdom isn’t the exact term. Now, excuse me please, while I attend to more practical matters.’
At the door, he paused, ‘By the way, that’s a good cognac you have there, so try not to treat it like medicine, but as yet another of life’s pleasurable experiences that has so far passed you by.’
