Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

so that we know where everything is . . .’
    ‘Then I don’t know why you have come here.’
    ‘Yes, I am afraid I must have been misled.’
    ‘Some idle gossip, either in the village or in town perhaps?’
    Amanda was not going to give up easily. ‘I think you work in insurance?’
    ‘I’ve been retired for two years. I have a modest pension and I live frugally. I certainly could not afford any original works. Even these copies have cost me a great deal of money.’
    ‘You should come to the National Gallery to see the originals.’
    ‘That is very kind, Miss Kendall, but I like to keep everything close to hand. I do not like to be troubled by the world these days.’
    ‘Then I’m sorry to have bothered you.’
    ‘Not at all. I would offer you tea but I am afraid that I only drink milk. I like it condensed.’
    ‘Oh . . .’
    ‘It’s not an affectation . . .’
    ‘I didn’t think that it was . . .’
    ‘It’s only that life can be so difficult.’ Wilkie Phillips wiped his eye. ‘I wear the same clothes and I eat the same food every day. Then I don’t have to think about those kinds of things. I can just look at my paintings.’
    ‘Is that how you spend your retirement?’
    ‘I spend each day in a different room. There are seven rooms and I have seven days. It’s all organised.’
    ‘And where are you today?’
    ‘In the snug.’
    ‘Which is where the fire is?’
    ‘You are observant.’
    ‘May I see?’
    ‘There’s nothing there, really. Only a few portraits; they are not very interesting at all.’
    ‘I am sure I will find them fascinating. This is your very own National Gallery, is it not?’
    Phillips stepped back. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. But I believe that rooms should have their own themes. Italian Renaissance, Dutch still lives, Venetian views, and a salon of Vermeers. That is my favourite.’
    ‘And what about the snug?’
    ‘My Reformation room: Cranach’s Adam and Eve, Quentin Metsys and one or two Holbeins. I’ve avoided Henry the Eighth because he is too intimidating and, as you have no doubt observed, I prefer pictures of women.’
    ‘Could we go through?’
    ‘You won’t be staying long, will you?’ Phillips asked. ‘Only I haven’t finished looking today and I do like to see the paintings in the daylight.’
    ‘No, I won’t keep you,’ said Amanda. ‘I am particularly interested in the Northern Renaissance.’
    ‘You mean the Reformation. Such psychological realism I find . . .’
    They entered the room. On the opposite wall was a copy of Holbein’s Lady with a Squirrel that they had in the National Gallery. She recognised a portrait of Lady Guildford and then there, over the fireplace, was Lord Locket’s portrait of Anne Boleyn.
    ‘Oh,’ Amanda said, trying to sound as casual as she could. ‘I don’t think I know that one.’
    ‘Yes,’ Wilkie Phillips answered. ‘It’s rather obscure.’
    ‘It’s a copy?’
    ‘They are all copies, as you have noticed.’
    ‘Then where is the original?’
    ‘I can’t remember . . .’
    ‘I would have thought you knew where all your paintings came from?’
    ‘They are copies. It does not matter too much . . .’
    ‘But this one seems particularly good. It has a better patina. The sense of age is more convincing. Who is she?’
    ‘No one of any great importance.’
    ‘You don’t think so? It seems to have a cartellino.’
    ‘I don’t think that means very much.’
    ‘On the contrary. I think it means a very great deal. Could I have a closer look?’
    The painting was hung too high but Amanda was convinced that the cartellino read ‘Quene Anne Bulleyene’.
    Wilkie Phillips shifted on his feet. ‘Hadn’t you better be getting on now?’
    ‘Yes, of course. Only, it’s extraordinary . . .’
    ‘Yes, yes, I suppose it must be very odd to come to a place like this. I’m only sorry you have wasted your journey.’
    ‘No not at all . . .’ Amanda hesitated. ‘You don’t think it might be someone important?’ she asked.
    ‘I am not so sure about that. I just saw it and liked it.’
    ‘Yet you can’t remember where you first saw it?’
    ‘I suppose that is a bit odd . . .’
    ‘And it’s hung in such a prominent position.’
    ‘Well, as I say, I rather like her.’
    ‘Haven’t you been curious to do some research?’
    ‘You ask a lot of questions, Miss Kendall.’ Wilkie Phillips gave a nervous laugh.
    Amanda wanted a closer look at the picture but realised she had outstayed