Duke, and I made those copies in good faith, but it seems that Wegg has done his worst. He was determined to ruin Duke and it seems that he’s succeeded.’
‘Think hard, Pa,’ Nettie said urgently. ‘Is there any way the police could prove you were the artist concerned?’
‘I had to leave my painting behind. An expert would soon realise that there are other works in the gallery made by the same copyist, and it won’t take long before the police put two and two together. I’m afraid if I don’t make a run for it, I’ll end up in prison. But you’re innocent and you don’t deserve to be dragged down by me.’
‘That’s nonsense, Pa. We’re in this together.’
‘You’ve stood by me even though you suspected that what I was doing was illegal,’ Robert said with a wry smile. ‘But it’s time you made a life for yourself. I want you to go to your aunt Prudence in Wales. You’d be safe there.’
‘I’d rather be on the run with you, Pa. Aunt Prudence lives on a mountain surrounded by sheep. Anyway, you need me to look after you.’ Nettie went to the dresser and began searching the drawers. ‘Where did I put the passports you obtained for us last year? You remember, Pa. It was for the trip to Paris we never made because we couldn’t afford it.’
Robert pulled a face. ‘Don’t remind me of my past misdeeds, Nettie. That horse was a certainty, or so I thought. We would have visited the Louvre and Montmartre, the artists’ quarter, if that animal had won.’
‘Never mind that now, Pa. I’ve found them.’ Nettie closed the drawer and tucked the documents into her reticule.
‘You’re a good girl, Nettie. I don’t deserve you.’
‘There’s one problem, though. We haven’t any money.’
‘Duke must have a conscience of sorts: he left payment for my last canvas. As luck would have it, Pendleton handed it over before the police arrived.’
‘But you didn’t sign the copies,’ Nettie said slowly. ‘Even experts could be mistaken. If you had a good solicitor you might be able to prove that you knew nothing of Duke’s business deals.’
‘Everyone in the art world knows that I’ve been involved with Dexter for years, and I don’t trust Pendleton to keep his mouth shut. He’ll tell the police anything they want to know in order to save his own skin. I’m afraid there’s no alternative but to leave the country until all this blows over.’
‘Where will we go, Pa?’
‘We’ll head for Dover and catch the ferry to Calais. I don’t know where we’ll go from there. We’ll take it day by day.’
‘I must tell my friends. I can’t leave without saying anything to Byron and the others.’
‘You mustn’t do that, Nettie. It’s not fair to involve them. The less they know, the better. You can see that, can’t you?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Good. Now pack your things. We’ll leave the rent money on the table. I’m not so dishonest that I’d rob an old woman, even a harridan like Ma Burton.’
Nettie experienced a moment of panic as she packed a valise with all her worldly possessions, starting with the manuscript of her rejected novel. Moving in a hurry was nothing new, and leaving rented accommodation had often involved a moonlight flit, but it was the friends she had made in Ma Burton’s house that Nettie would miss the most. She wondered who would help young Biddy when she was at a loss to know how to cope with her invalid mistress. Who would have the patience to mend Madame Fabron’s torn garments? Who would spend hours listening to Ted agonising over his broken romance? Who would play cards with Pip when he was feeling bored, and who would laugh at Byron’s terrible jokes? Leaving Byron was the hardest thing of all.
‘Come on, Nettie. We must leave now.’
Nettie fastened the leather straps on the valise and took one last look around the room that had been home for almost three years. The hunger and cold were forgotten and she could only remember the good times, and the bonds of friendship that she had made and shared. She would miss these two attic rooms in Covent Garden more than she could ever have thought possible. She had made a home wherever they happened to be in the past, whether it was a smart town house or a leaky attic in Hoxton, but leaving here hurt her heart, and going without saying goodbye to those whom she had grown to love was the most painful part of the whole sorry business.
She followed her father downstairs, tiptoeing past the closed doors, but when Robert let them out into the street they came face to face with Byron and Ted.
‘What’s going on?’ Byron demanded.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Robert said in a stage whisper.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Nettie reached out to grasp Byron’s hand. ‘We have to leave.’
‘Why?’ Ted asked. ‘If it’s the rent, we could help out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Byron added hastily. ‘We’ll chip in, Mr Carroll.’
Robert shook his head. ‘Thanks, but the rent is the least of our problems. Say goodbye, Nettie.’ He strode off, leaving Nettie little alternative but to follow him.
‘Where are you going?’ Byron fell into step beside her. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Victoria Station,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You don’t want to be involved in this, Byron. Please keep out of it, for your sake if not for mine.’ She hurried on, but Byron kept pace with them.
‘I’m not giving up until you tell me what’s happened.’
‘I can’t tell you.’ Nettie broke into a run in an attempt to keep up with her father’s long strides, but she was hampered by the weight of her case.
‘Let me have that.’ Byron took it from her hand, but Robert had come to a halt as he reached the Strand, and he stood on the edge of the kerb.
‘Leave us alone, Horton.’ Robert waved frantically at a passing cab, but it passed by. ‘We have to leave London and that’s all you need to know.’
‘Now I know there’s something seriously wrong.’ Byron laid his hand on Nettie’s shoulder. ‘I’m your friend. If you’re in trouble maybe I can help.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, but thank you anyway. Please go away and forget about us. We’re leaving the country.’
‘Nettie!’ Robert turned to her, scowling. ‘What did I tell you?’
‘I’m sorry, Pa, but Byron deserves an explanation.’
‘He works for lawyers. He would feel bound to tell the police everything he knows about us.’ Robert raised his hand again and this time a hackney carriage drew to a halt at the kerb. ‘Get in, Nettie.’ He tossed the cases in after her. ‘Victoria Station, cabby.’ He leaped into the cab and slammed the door.
Nettie peered out of the window, raising her hand in a final farewell to Byron.
‘Did you have to treat him
