When the Devil Drives

The living-room, she found, had already been tidied and made readyfor the day, the sofa cushions plumped and the windows opened.It really was a most attractive room, she decided grudgingly. Theprevious night she'd been feeling too fraught to appreciate its finerpoints, but now she could view them at her leisure.It was clear Cal hadn't opted for wall-to-wall professional interiordesign. The few ornaments on display had obviously been personallychosen over a number of years. Some were antiques, and others werejust fun, like the collection of china bears she found on a side-table.The pictures were interesting too, prints mingling with originalwater-colours, while above the fireplace hung a magnificentoil-painting of a stark stretch of moorland, lashed by rain under athunderous sky.Joanna wandered over to study it more closely, and it was then thather attention was caught by a much smaller painting hanging on thewall to the right of the. fireplace. It was a miniature—a head andshoulders portrait of a woman, no longer in the first flush of youth,but vibrantly, glowingly beautiful, the corners of her mouth lifting ina smile, half shy, half mischievous.I've seen her before, Joanna told herself, frowning. But where?The little portrait clearly belonged to a much earfier era. Thedemurely high-necked blouse, and the thick fair hair, waving backfrom her forehead, and drawn into a loose chignon at the nape of herneck, betrayed that.She was still puzzling over it when there was a tap at the door and agirl in an overall came in, pushing a trolley. There was a jug of chilledfruit juice, a basket of hot rolls and croissants wrapped in napkins,dishes of marmalade and other preserves, and a tall pot of coffee.