Blood Stones by Evelyn Anthony Page B

directors. Probably ex-wife by now. She’s very nice.’ Elizabeth caught her eye across the room and gave a little wave and smile. ‘I liked her. She had a good sense of humour. She made some of those ghastly company parties bearable.’
    Jill Fairfax studied her. A very good-looking woman, probably middle to late forties, very dark and chic – she used the old-fashioned word to describe such women with immaculate clothes and hair.
    â€˜Divorced? Oh well, nobody stays the course these days. No bloody backbone, that’s the trouble.’
    James Hastings disliked women who swore, and his motherin-law seldom let a sentence go by without the word bloody creeping in. His own mother would never have used such a word in conversation.
    â€˜It wasn’t her fault,’ Liz said. ‘Her husband started an affair with his secretary.’
    â€˜How common,’ her mother remarked. ‘So she left him, I suppose. Silly woman. Should have got rid of the secretary. I would have done.’
    â€˜Yes, Mum,’ her daughter agreed, smiling. ‘Set the dogs on her, no doubt … no, it wasn’t quite like that. This girl made a real go for Dick Kruger. And she was the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Tough as old boots and determined to get him. Jamie said he made a complete fool of himself. Ruth Fraser, that’s her name. Thirty years he’d been married, and she broke it up. Just for money. He’s years older than she is, and not anything special. Rather ugly, very South African. I never liked him. But so far,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘he hasn’t married the little bitch. She still works for him, though, and they live together. Mum, I think I’ll just go over and say hello. Some people dropped Valerie after they split up. Keeping on the right side of him .’
    She went over to the table. ‘Hello, Val,’ she said. ‘How are you?’
    Valerie Kruger looked up and smiled. James Hastings’ lovely wife, always so friendly and good natured. A pearl cast among swine, she had thought privately as soon as she met her. With a prize swine of a husband, according to Dick. ‘Hello, Elizabeth. You’re looking great. As always. How nice of you to come over. My friend is late, as usual. Is that your mother over there? I see a family likeness.’
    â€˜Yes, it is,’ Liz said. ‘I’ll tell her, she’ll be pleased. Look, let’s have lunch one day. Are you still in Phillimore Gardens?’
    â€˜Yes; Dick moved out – I stayed put. Do call. I’d love to see you again.’
    Elizabeth went back and sat down. Another woman was making her way across the restaurant towards Valerie Kruger. They had seen Valerie once at the theatre with a man. James had been embarrassed and tried to avoid them. Elizabeth couldn’t understand why and had been angry. ‘I just don’t want to get involved, that’s all,’ he’d explained. Elizabeth couldn’t see how being friendly to someone they both knew was anything more than an ordinary kindness. She had made a point of moving up the aisle to talk to Valerie, while James hung back. It had clouded an otherwise enjoyable evening at a very good play.
    After lunch she and her mother went to an exhibition at the Waddington Gallery. Pop’s birthday was coming up, and they decided a nice animal in bronze of horse and jockey would be a joint present for him. He had been a talented amateur rider in his youth. They all rode as a matter of course. James was terrified of horses and only watched them on a racecourse at Royal Ascot. Invariably, to Liz’s chagrin, he won money.
    It had been a happy day spent together. She dropped her mother at Paddington Station; they kissed briefly, Jill Fairfax was not a demonstrative woman. ‘Goodbye, Liz darling, thanks for a lovely day.’ She had the bronze packed up under her arm. ‘I’ll have to hide this when I