A Summer of Secrets

by Lorna Peel

  “No, I was never allowed, and it’s far too dangerous now. The nearest I got was the museum. I’d liked to have satisfied my curiosity but I much prefer the open air. Mum’s grandfather was killed in a pitfall and I think she always worried that the same would happen to Dad. Now, most of the time she thinks he’s dead.” She burst into tears. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  “Come and sit down.” Taking her arm, he led her off the path. They sat down in the springy heather and she wiped her eyes. “You have to cry, and let it all out,” he told her gently. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve locked myself in the library and just…”

  He pulled a comical expression as she stared at him. It was hard to imagine him crying his eyes out but who knows how he reacted when he left the library after learning that his real mother was a complete stranger.

  “I used to cry for my family,” he continued. “Me; the bills that still needed paying; the career I never had; the nightmare of possibly having to sell the estate; the fact that I have no life…that sort of thing. You have your cry then you dust yourself down and, in my case, head back out to the office.”

  “My friends in London didn’t want me to come back up here.” She fished a handkerchief out of a pocket and blew her nose. “But I had to, she’s my mum. She and Dad are all I’ve got left and I know I’m quickly losing her. This morning she thought I was Sally, her sister. I’m really dreading a time when she forgets that I exist.”

  “Do you not have any other family?” he asked.

  “Mum’s brother, Martin, died when he was twenty,” she explained. “Sally lives in Cornwall. They were never close, anyway. Dad was an only child.”

  “So why did you go to live in London?”

  “I followed a man down there.” She shook her head at her stupidity. “I thought I’d found ‘the one’ at long last and I thought I’d be able to persuade Dad to come and live in London, even though I knew deep down that he’d never leave Mum up here and he’d never move her down there. Anyway, needless to say, it didn’t work out between Lee and me and I was packing up down there when I got a phone call telling me that Dad had fallen and badly broken his arm and he couldn’t live on his own anymore. That was six months ago. He said himself that he should go into sheltered accommodation so he sold the house and he’s in The Beeches Complex now. Finding a job which has a flat going with it is fantastic.” She smiled. “Do you feel like going on?”

  He returned a smile. “To be honest, I’d rather sit here and talk to you. I haven’t had a conversation about anything but estate business in…I don’t know how long.”

  “To be honest, I think you work too hard.”

  He nodded. “I think you’re right. But I have to work hard. I’m not going to be remembered as the Heaton who had to sell up. And if that means coach parties and teas, then it means coach parties and teas.”

  “Did you find the fridge in the end?”

  He rolled his remarkable eyes. “Yes. It’s now built into the kitchen cupboards in the pantry. Integrated, I think Mrs Fields called it, so no wonder I couldn’t find it.”

  “At least you can raid it now,” she teased.

  He shrugged. “There’s no Branston Pickle.”

  “I can make you a sandwich if you get a craving.”

  “I might just take you up on that.”

  She smiled and looked away, hoping that he couldn’t see her blush.

  “I rang the opticians in the town,” he announced and she turned back. “They gave me an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “I hope I don’t pick the most hideous frames there.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t overstepping the mark, and he failed to hide his relief at her offer.

  “Thank you. I’d welcome another opinion. Even if I could ask Stephanie, God knows what I’d end up getting.”

  “I suppose I should have mentioned it before,” she began. “Properly, I mean. But I was sorry to hear about Stephanie. A friend of mine in London lost a baby. It was awful.”

  “I suppose you’ve also heard that it was because her boyfriend hits her?” Sophia nodded. “She won’t leave him. I’ve begged her, Lady Heaton has begged her, her friends have begged her, but she won’t. I’m terrified that one day he will kill her. She went home to her apartment the other day, refused my offer of coming here for a bit. Stubborn to the last.”

  “I take it she doesn’t know?” she asked.

  “No. And that’s the way it’s going to be.” He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry you’re caught up in all of this.”

  “I have to say this: I just can’t help but feel you’re burying your head in the sand over it all.”

  “Well, what can I do?” he demanded. “Turn up on your friend’s doorstep and introduce myself?”

  “Her name’s Michelle,” she told him.

  “Michelle’s doorstep, then. Her whole family could fall apart. It sounds dramatic but if it’s anything like what’s happened between Lady Heaton and me—” He stopped abruptly realising he’d said more than he had intended to. “For now,” he continued quietly. “I just want to try and get my head around it all and let sleeping dogs lie.”

  She shrugged sadly. “All right.”

  “We passed a pub about a mile back,” he said, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the road. “Would you like a coffee?”

  “I would love a coffee, thank you.”

  “Good. I’m freezing.”

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  He just shrugged comically and they returned to the Land Rover.

  There was an open fire in the pub and she chose the nearest table while he went to the bar to order the coffees. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair then turned hearing raised voices.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like your attitude either, mate,” the barman retorted.

  “All I want are two coffees,” Heaton replied. “Now am I going to get them or do I have to contact the brewery to complain about their staff?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Do you usually swear in front of a lady?” Heaton demanded.

  “A lady? Where?”

  To her astonishment, Heaton lunged across the bar and caught the barman by his collar.

  “Hey, stop.” She ran over to them. “Stop it. Let him go.”

  Reluctantly, Heaton did as he was told. “Sorry, but we’ll have to go somewhere else.”

  “No, we won’t. Go and sit down, please.” She waited until he had sat down before smiling at the barman. “Sorry about that. Two coffees please.”

  “Sophia?” the barman asked and she frowned. “Remember me? Ed Sibley? We were in the same year at St Margaret’s Grammar School.”

  She laughed. “Yes. God, you’ve grown a bit.”

  “So have you.”

  Charming. “So, could I have two coffees?”

  Ed leaned forward. “You’re not with him, are you?”

  “We’ve just been for a walk and we’re cold so, two coffees, please?”

  “But you do know who he is?” Ed added.

  She nodded. “Yes, and even lords are human and need to keep warm.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Look, all we want is a bloody coffee each, not a debate on the class system.”

  “All right.” Ed’s hands flew into the air in a defensive gesture. “Keep your hair on.”

  “I’ll try.” She returned to the table and sat down. Heaton was holding his hands out to the fire. “It’s all right, we’re not going to get thrown out.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Unfortunately, I was at school with him. He didn’t go on to A-Levels but quite a few other idiots did.” The coffee tray was brought to them and placed on the table with a bit of a bang. “Thanks, Ed.” He grunted and left them and she pulled a face. “Well, he won’t be getting a tip. Milk and sugar?”

  “Milk, one sugar, please,” he replied and
watched as she added them. “Thank you.” He lifted the cup and saucer and stirred the contents.

  “Do you usually try to strangle anyone who annoys you?” she asked as casually as she could.

  He sighed. “No, not everyone. I’m sorry, that was a bit Neanderthal of me.”

  A bit? “Do you get that a lot?”

  “I usually know where to avoid,” he replied evasively.

  “Are you warmer now?”

  “Much warmer, thank you.”

  “Next week,” she began. “Do you think you’ll be up to the full five-kilometre walk?”

  He put his cup and saucer down on the table. “You mean, you’re willing to risk the other four and three-quarter kilometres with me?”

  She smiled. “I might if you’re up to it. I’d have to draw the line at giving you a fireman’s lift back down off the moor, though.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary. And yes, I think I will be up to five kilometres as long as I wear some warmer clothes.”

  They finished their coffees and she got up to go and pay. “Won’t be a minute.”

  “No, I’ll pay,” he protested.

  “I think you’d better stay away from Ed, don’t you think?”

  A flicker of what might have been annoyance crossed his face but he nodded and she went to the bar.

  “You’ve got a strange taste in men,” Ed commented as she passed him a five-pound note.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I turned you down, remember?” She followed Heaton outside and they drove back to the abbey in silence. “Have I offended you?” she asked as they got out.

  “No, not at all.”

  “I sometimes speak without thinking.”

  “You’ve got every right to. No, it’s me. I sometimes act without thinking. It’s nothing you’ve done.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’d better go and change. I’ll call for you in the morning.”

  Just as she thought she was, at last, bringing him out of himself, he retreats back into his shell. She watched him go into the house before crossing the stable yard to her flat. He was certainly explosive in a way Lee had never been, but did it worry her? She wasn’t sure. Most of the time he seemed to hide behind what she was beginning to call his ‘Lord of the Manor’ persona. But there were occasional glimpses of a softer, more gentle side. Maybe she should do what her Mum, Dad, and practically everyone she knew would do and just judge him by his title and principles and have as little to do with him as possible. But she couldn’t. There was now absolutely no denying that she found him incredibly attractive. Was it because of that or the fear of opening a huge Pandora’s box that she was doing as she was told and keeping quiet? Both, probably, and that did worry her because she really didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter Three

  Heaton knocked at the door of the flat at ten thirty in the morning. Sophia grabbed her handbag, went downstairs, and opened the door.

  He gave her a weak smile. “I don’t know why I’m nervous, it’s only an eye test.”

  “I hate the dentist,” she told him, stepping outside and closing the door. “But it has to be done.”

  “Yes.” He pulled a bunch of keys from a trouser pocket. “I suppose it’s an age thing. Getting glasses means getting old.”

  “Did your father wear reading glasses?” she asked, following him across the stable yard to the Land Rover.

  “Yes, but he started wearing them when he was a lot older than me.”

  “Well, it still could be genetic. And glasses aren’t that bad. Can be quite sexy, really.” She bit the inside of her cheek in horror. Shut up, Sophia.

  “Well, I’ll take your word for it,” he said, unlocking the Land Rover.

  At the optician’s, she went to study the frames display while Heaton went for the eye test, trying not to think about the female optician now gazing into his eyes. And getting paid for it. God, which frames? Ones which made him look like his grandfather’s grandfather? Or ones which would probably make him look even sexier and slightly vulnerable and she wouldn’t be able to look at him without dropping something? Was there something – anything – in between?

  “You were right about my eyesight.” She heard his voice, turned and he gave her a sorry smile. “Well, we’d better choose some frames.” He reached for a plastic pair and put them on, peered at himself in the mirror and recoiled. “God, no.”

  “I think this is the Senior Citizen’s section,” she whispered. “Have a look at these over here.”

  “What about these?” He put on a large round pair and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “No?”

  “Well, they’re fine for Harry Potter.”

  “All right.” He put them back, reached for some small silver metal frames, and put them on. “Well?”

  “No. Too John Lennon. Not that there’s anything wrong with John Lennon,” she added quickly. “But…”

  “But they don’t suit me?”

  Not in a million years. “Um, no.”

  “Okay, your turn.” He swept an arm at the vast array of frames.

  “Oh. Well.” She reached for some black metal frames. “Try these.”

  Taking them from her, he turned them over. “Apparently, you can squash these and they bounce back into shape. Could be useful when I fall asleep face down on the PC keyboard.” He put them on, turned to her, and she stared. Sexy yet vulnerable, what more could you want? “Ms Nelson?”

  “They’re very nice,” she managed to get out. “Not too big, not too small, and…they bounce back into shape.”

  Turning back to the mirror, he pulled a comical face at himself, then turned back to her. “Yes?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. Thank you for this.” He gave her a relieved smile before taking the frames to the optician for measurements and to discuss the various types of lenses. Sophia tried on a few frames while she waited, thankful she had near-perfect eyesight. Seeing him approach in the mirror, she replaced some bright red frames on the stand which clashed terribly with her hair and turned. “Coffee?” Heaton suggested. “And I’ll definitely pay this time.” They crossed the street to a coffee shop. “What would you like?”

  “An espresso, please,” she said and walked to a table at the back of the shop.

  He returned with two tiny cups and saucers and sat down. “Small but lethal. Thank God that’s over.”

  “It wasn’t that much of an ordeal, was it?” she asked.

  “No, I suppose not,” he replied as he emptied a sachet of sugar into his cup and stirred it. “Even if I did think I could look good in Harry Potter glasses,” he said, glancing around the coffee shop. “Is this place new?”

  “It’s been here about a year, apparently.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I come into town to go to the bank and that’s it. Shows, doesn’t it?”

  “I hardly recognised the town centre when I came back from London, thanks to the regeneration plan.”

  “Do you miss London?” he asked and took a sip of coffee.

  “I miss being close to the clothes shops, bookshops, theatres, that sort of thing. It’s a bit of a trek to Leeds from here but before I got the job I’d started to go a couple of times a month to get it out of my system. I’d walk around the shops instead of the moor for a change.”

  He gave a sad little smile. “I really need to get out more. People must think I’m a recluse.”

  Sophia replied with what she hoped was a dismissive smile and reached for her coffee cup.

  That evening she unpacked her laptop, connected to the heatonabbeyhouse wireless network and went to her emails. The first was from Michelle.

  Hi Sophia

  I’m at work and bored so I thought I’d drop you an email.

  I’ve just been on a tour of the net and I ended up on oldschoolfriends.com

  Guess what Jill Richardson is doing now? She’s a nun.

  Email me sometime.

  Michelle

  A nun? Sophia rolled her eye
s and clicked on ‘Reply’.

  Hi Michelle

  A nun, eh? Can’t say that surprises me, she always was a sanctimonious cow. Hope it’s a silent order.

  Bye for now.

  Sophia

  She did a search for oldschoolfriends.com and clicked on the Workplaces link and typed in Connolly’s and Leeds. A kind person had added all the names of the employees between 1970 and 1980. Both her mother and Danielle were listed. Unfortunately, there were no photographs.

  She got up and went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She had stuck Heaton’s business card to the door with a magnet and lifted it off. She returned to the laptop and typed in the URL of Heaton Abbey House and clicked on the Contact Us link. The email address was a general info@heatonabbeyhouse.co.uk while on the card the email address was thomas.heaton@heatonabbeyhouse.co.uk. It must be his personal email address.

  She opened a new email and typed it in then sat staring at it for at least five minutes before starting to type.

  Dear Lord Heaton

  Please find attached a photo of Danielle. It was taken at Michelle’s wedding in 2009. Danielle is on the left in blue. The other lady is Tony’s mother.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the oldschoolfriends.com website but they have a section for Workplaces. Both my mum and Danielle worked in the office at an engineering firm called Connolly’s in Leeds. No photos sadly.

  If you have any questions, please ask, and I’ll do my best to answer them.

  Sincerely

  Sophia Nelson

  She attached the photograph, clicked on send and blew out her cheeks, hoping that she wouldn’t live to regret it.

  The following evening she was astonished to receive a reply from Heaton.

  Dear Ms Nelson

  Thank you for sending me the photograph.

  I did have a look on the oldschoolriends.com site and typed in Danielle O’Hara’s name but there were over 100 matches and I don’t know where she went to school so that was a bit of a non-starter but thank you for your help, anyway.

  All this is very hard for me, as you can appreciate, so thank you for being so understanding.