Page 36 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Arthur wouldn’t leave his babies to just anyone, you know,” she said. “You must be very special.”
“Oh” was Jo’s so-cultured response.Think faster, please, she instructed her brain. “It’s really wonderful that you could see me,” she added as the server led them to the sun-soaked beer garden.
“Of course. I adore Arthur. And besides,” Chen said, lowering magenta sunglasses and looking at Jo over the rim, “I’m interested. You see, no one elseknows.”
“About...?” Jo put Pepper down in the shadow of the table and tied off Hans’s leash.
Chen waited until she was settled. “Evelyn’s painting.”
“You—saw it? You were you at the estate?”
Chen smiled. “Oh. Hadn’t you guessed it was my work?”
Jo bit her lip. No, and yes. Dared to hope.
Chen went on. “Aiden invited me; he wanted my opinion about their origins. As I gather you already know, Evelyn’s is an Augustus John. The other two paintings of his ancestors werenot. Very strange mystery indeed. Evelyn’s painting was decent work, mind. But not expertly done.”
“So it’s all true. Aiden knew it was an Augustus John! I thought he must have. Was it hard to replicate?” Jo began. She wanted to ask about the message on the torn photo, but the server was standing over her now. “Um, coffee?”
“Try the omelet, pet,” Chen suggested, then to the waitress, “I’ll have my usual,” then back to Jo, “Aiden had a small photo on silver paper in a tiny gilt frame. Very helpful for the repair.”
Chen went on, pausing now and then to make quiet little hums—appreciative vibrations. It was oddly soothing.
“Aiden invited me to the Ardemore estate. He was sick then, and I rather younger and fitter. I worked right there, in the library—was sorry to hear of its demise. Aiden sat in a wingback chair, blanket on his knees, and watched me paint.” She smiled gently. “I’m glad I had the time with him. He supported me when it mattered. I was only too happy to return favors.”
The omelet had come, but Jo pushed the plate to one side.
“I want to know everything,” she said.
“Tut. You want to eat your breakfast is what, pet. There’s a girl. And then, you want to come to this.” Chen burrowed into an oversize bag, half disappearing into its yawning mouth. She returned with a folded brochure. “It’s an exhibition.”
Jo looked at the title:Fractured Genius: Augustus John and the Slade School of Art. It started tomorrow, Tuesday, at the York Art Gallery. Jo lifted her eyes to Chen. “This is... interesting timing.”
“Oh, there’s always a show somewhere featuring the Sladepupils. It’s a celebrated bunch, and you’ll see the work of Derwent Lees and William Orpen. Even Augustus’s sister, Gwen.”
Jo nearly choked. Why was everyone called William and Gwen? Across from her, Chen put down her toast and jam.
“Join me,” she said.
“At the museum?”
“Quite. You want to know more about Aiden—you need to see the paintings. Consider it the price of admission.” She winked. “Now, eat up. Those pups will want to be home again before it gets too warm.”
***
Chen wasn’t wrong about the temperatures; by the time Jo left the café, she’d started to sweat in earnest. On the street, she saw summer shorts and preposterously white legs to prove how rare a day it was. And Pepper was having none of it. Looking up the museum while carrying an inverted eight-pound dog was not improving the heat index. She retraced her steps at a clip even Hans could appreciate, cutting across the park to one of the main streets... just in time to be honked at.
Loudly, Jo dropped her phone, managednotto drop the dog, and quite possibly her heart had exploded. The phone remained thankfully intact.Car horns should be banned.Any horn, frankly. Manic, random noisemakers.
Looking up, she didnotsee a cranky driver riding away as she’d expected. What she saw, instead, was a white butty van.
Not the same one, obviously. The one with a single window, dinged metal counter, out-of-date condiments—the one that delivered a sizable bacon sandwich but on stale bread Gwilym complained about the whole way back. The one with a bejowled driver with a thick Geordie accent.
Except, somehow, itwas. Jo approached the window, dogs in tow.
“Hi, excuse me?” Jo asked. The man had been looking at his phone.
“Closed,” he said.
