Silent Truths by Susan Lewis Page B

existence had achieved its first recognition a mere few hours after Colin had lost his freedom. There must have been some exceptional universal power at work that day, she thought, and all she could do was thank it, for in giving her Ava it had given her something to hold on to – some small chance of survival.
    ‘Miss Montgomery?’
    She looked up into the pale, quizzical eyes of a middle-aged man with dark wavy hair and florid cheeks.
    ‘Robin Lindsay,’ he said, smiling and holding out a hand to shake.
    Ava rose gracefully to her feet and took the hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she told him, using a deeper, sultrier voice than Beth’s. She wanted to be this person, Ava Montgomery, whom she saw as a confident, talented woman, with thoughts, behaviour, maybe even a look all her own. Ava should be an almost separate entity so that peoplewouldn’t think of Beth Ashby when they saw her and feel pity, or discomfort, or worse.
    ‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ he assured her, standing aside. ‘Let’s go through to my office, shall we? Would you like some coffee? Tea?’
    ‘What, no champagne?’ she teased.
    He laughed, seeming to like the suggestion, while inwardly Beth was startled, though amused, by Ava’s audacity.
    Halfway down the drably carpeted corridor he popped his head in through an open door and spoke to a well-groomed woman in her early forties. ‘Ruth, you wanted to meet Ava Montgomery,’ he said.
    The woman’s face lit up. ‘I most certainly do,’ she declared, coming out from behind her desk.
    ‘This is Ruth Pembroke,’ Robin told her. ‘She’s already a fan.’
    ‘Congratulations,’ Ruth said, shaking her hand warmly. ‘What you’ve achieved is stunning. Quite unique.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Beth responded in Ava’s contralto. Pleasure was rushing through her like a river. ‘I’m so glad you like it.’
    ‘I love it,’ Ruth corrected. ‘And I’d love to discuss it some time, if you’re willing. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later, before you leave.’
    ‘I hope so,’ Ava replied.
    Robin was smiling like a proud father. ‘Come along,’ he said, putting a hand under her elbow. ‘My office is at the end here. I’ll just introduce you to my secretary, Caroline, then we can get down to business.’
    A few minutes later Ava had discarded her hatand overshirt, and was relaxing on a hard leather sofa, a glass of champagne in one hand while the other lay limply beside her. Robin Lindsay, who was sitting in an armchair beside a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, was doing all the talking, never calling her anything but Ava, even though he knew very well who she was. She’d had to tell him in advance in order to avoid him spending time dealing with the shock of it when she got here. This way, he’d had the chance to assimilate the knowledge, and now the scandal of Colin Ashby’s crime and arrest weren’t impinging. So, for this brief hour at least, she could be Ava Montgomery the writer, not Beth Ashby the murderer’s wife.
    ‘Can I ask why you chose the name Ava Montgomery?’ he said, taking a sip of champagne.
    Her eyes sparkled as she said, ‘Ava Montgomery sounds like the kind of person who knows how to have fun.’ It was the answer she’d given Georgie when she’d asked, and it seemed to amuse Robin Lindsay just as much.
    ‘Have you written anything before this?’ he asked.
    ‘Nothing that’s complete.’
    He nodded, as though it was an answer he’d expected. ‘As I told you on the phone,’ he said, ‘your style, the story, are both highly unusual and compelling. I take it you know the Italian lakes well.’
    ‘Not as well I’d like,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve only been once.’ Once, with Colin, just the two of them, to a small, family-owned hotel on the western shore of Lake Maggiore. It was the one and only time she’d met Carlotta, the dark, mysteriouswoman who’d become the focus of Ava Montgomery’s existence, and the nourishment of Beth Ashby’s