A Summer of Secrets

by Lorna Peel

  “Nope. Sussed out the talent?”

  “Talent?” She caught a glimpse of Heaton’s head as he made his way back to Andrew. “What talent?”

  Stephanie Heaton arrived at the abbey two days later but it was a further week before Sophia finally met her in the gardens. Stephanie’s face was a disturbing shade of purple and it was almost impossible as yet to see whether she looked like Danielle.

  “They’ve allowed me outside at long last. You must be Sophia. Thomas has told me about you.”

  “Oh.” Not all, I’ll bet. She gave her a polite smile. “I hope you’re feeling a little better.”

  Stephanie shrugged exactly like her brother. “I feel better, I just look like crap.”

  “The bruises will be gone in a week or so.”

  “I hope so.” Stephanie nodded. “Mother says you’ve been feeding Thomas on and off. And reminding him to get a life, too, I hope? He might as well put a bed in that office and move in there permanently.”

  “He does seem to work very hard.”

  “There’s no ‘seem’ about it. Poor Thomas, to be lumbered with all of this.” Stephanie swept her arm around dramatically. “He says you’re from the town originally. He told me about your mother, too. I’m very sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you been in the chapel?” she asked eagerly. “I found a key. I haven’t been in there for years.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Stephanie took her arm and began leading her off the lawn. “Come and have a look, then.”

  A few of the monastery buildings remained intact, including the former ‘stranger’s chapel’, the chapel near the gates of the monastery which was used by lay people, travellers and pilgrims. After the dissolution of the monasteries, the Heatons had retained it as their private chapel and burial place. Always kept locked, Sophia followed Stephanie and watched as she went to unlock the door with an enormous key but found it open.

  “Thomas?” Stephanie called. “Is that you in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us if you’d prefer to be alone?”

  “No, come in.” Sophia saw him look past his sister and at her. “You’ve met. Good.” They joined him at the tomb. “Our father,” he told her. “I’m not sure where I’ll be put, it’s getting rather full in here now.”

  “That’s not really for you to worry about, is it?” Stephanie laughed.

  He smiled. “No, I suppose not, but there’s a lot to be said for cremation. Mother wanted to include the chapel on the tour but I said no. People now see where we live, I don’t particularly want them to see where we’re put when we die. What do you think?”

  “It might appeal to the ghoulish side of people’s nature,” Stephanie mused. “But, then again, I think you were right. What do you think, Sophia?”

  “I’d rather not take sides.”

  “No, of course not.” Stephanie walked up to the altar. “I haven’t been in here for years. Do you come in here a lot, Thomas? I thought you lived in the office?”

  “I don’t have anything else apart from this, Steph,” he roared and they both jumped. “Father died when I was barely finished at university. I was completely on my own. Mother was a mess and you were in London. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing half the time. I still don’t know how I haven’t lost the place. People think it must be fucking fantastic being Lord Heaton. All they see is the title, the estate, the big house. Everyone’s out to get you. You can’t have any proper friends. It's so fucking lonely and a lot of the time I bloody hate it here. But what else is there? If I packed it all in, a lot of people would be out of a job. And, anyway, now I don't know how to do anything else. And people here wonder why I’m such a bastard.”

  Sophia stood in silence desperately wanting to put her arms around him, but not daring to.

  “You’re not a bastard,” Stephanie told him. “Well, not all the time. Take a chill pill, Thomas.”

  He glared at her then strode out of the chapel, banging the door behind him.

  Sophia examined her hands and heard Stephanie shuffling awkwardly.

  “Bugger. Shouldn’t have said that. He gets so worked up that Simon gave him a small bag of…anyway, this is the family chapel.”

  Sophia just managed a smile. “Excuse me.”

  She hurried to his office and walked straight in without knocking, and as he went to boot up the PC, she squeezed in front of him. “You need to get out of here. Even if it’s only for a few hours. You really can’t go back to work today.”

  “So what do you suggest?” he asked shortly.

  “Well, you were kind enough to take me for a drive after Mum’s funeral and I’d repay the compliment only you don’t fit in my car and I’m not insured to drive yours and I don’t really think I’d dare to, anyway…”

  He finally smiled. “Where would you like to go?”

  “I’ll leave that up to you.”

  He unlocked a drawer and she saw the drawings face down, a DVD-RW labelled ‘website photographs’, and a small sealed plastic bag full of powder. He saw her look at them before taking out some keys. He locked the drawer, held the door open for her and they went to the garage. They got into the Jaguar and he drove out of the stable yard. He sped up onto the moors before reversing the car into a gateway from where they could look down on the town and the estate in the distance. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She watched him, wishing that she could read the expression on his face. Then he turned to her.

  “Are you cold? I think there’s a rug in the back.” He twisted around and groped for it, his shoulder brushing hers. “Here we are.” He draped the rug carefully over her knees.

  “Have you cried yet?” she asked. Startled, he stared at her wide-eyed. “You asked me, so I’m asking you. You need to cry. Properly. Stephanie is fine but I think you need to get it all out. Bottling stuff up is bad for you, trust me.”

  “I know that I need to cry. But, to be perfectly honest, I think if I cried properly I don’t know when I’d stop. I shouldn’t have shouted at Stephanie. I shouldn’t have tried to throttle that boy in the graveyard.” He sat back in his seat with a sigh. “And I’m dreading Simon turning up again.”

  “You think he will?”

  He nodded. “I’d put money on it. If I had some to spare.”

  “Tell me to mind my own business, sack me or whatever, but what was that powder?”

  “Speed. Courtesy of Simon.”

  She gasped. “I thought you’d got rid of it all? You haven’t taken any, have you?”

  He looked away. “A bit. Not recently. I didn’t like what it did to me. That’s why I’m back smoking cigarettes.”

  “Please get rid of it,” she urged.

  “Mrs Fields found it in Stephanie’s room the other day – in what used to be Stephanie and Simon’s room. Do you know where it was?” She shook her head. “Behind the shutters. One wasn’t folding back away from the window properly and she found the bag in the gap. Simon wanted to get me hooked. You get it for nothing in the beginning and then—”

  “Just throw the stuff away,” she begged. “Please?”

  “Steph’s had a go at me, too. When she and Simon rowed, Simon told her about the speed he had given me a while back. Claimed that he had me in his pocket. Well, he bloody doesn’t. And when he comes—”

  “You’ll just ask him to leave,” she interrupted calmly.

  He sighed. “Yes.”

  “Why speed?” she asked and he frowned at her.

  “I’d spent the night in the office and must have looked like death warmed up. His internal cash register must have rung or something. He’s just an out-and-out bastard and I’m just so sorry that Steph had to find out like this. I’ll get rid of the stuff, don’t worry.”

  “He didn’t try and get Stephanie hooked on anything?” she added.

  “Yes, but she wanted none of it and it looks as though their last visit here was the beginning of the end for them. How are you copin
g?” he asked suddenly, startling her in turn. “I meant to ask when we went for our walk but I completely forgot. I’m sorry. Selfish of me.”

  “No. I’m glad you forgot or there’d have been two of us in tears up there.” She gave him a little smile. “I’m fine, coping quite well. Michelle rang the very next day about St Mary’s.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “And I had to tell her it was you. I’m a terrible liar. I told her that we were looking at St Mary’s Church seeing if there was anything remaining of the old monastic grange. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

  “Did she believe you?”

  “Yes, I think so, eventually. I shouldn’t have shouted at you in the graveyard. I know you said that I didn’t need to apologise but I was very rude. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I deserved it. There’s none of the grange left at St Mary’s, by the way. I looked it up in the library. My guess is that they reused the stones to build the church.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll be able to bore Michelle with that if she asks again.”

  “Sorry, I tried to make it sound interesting.” She shot a glance at him but saw him smile. “How long were you living there?” he asked. “With Michelle and her family?”

  “Four and a half months. When I came back from London I was on Dad’s sofa for a bit but then Michelle took pity on me.”

  “And Jeff?”

  “Jeff has a big mouth and likes Metallica,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “So I went from not being able to get a decent night’s sleep on Dad’s sofa to not being able to get a decent night’s sleep at Michelle’s thanks to Jeff. We had ‘words’ about it on a few occasions.”

  “And?”

  She grinned. “I threatened him with Radio 2 every morning after a night of Metallica. The prospect of listening to James Blunt at full volume at half seven in the morning terrified him, thank goodness.”

  “I don’t know who James Blunt is, but I do know Metallica and if I played Metallica at home at full volume, it would be barely audible in the next room. My grandmother was quite deaf towards the end of her life and used to listen to The Archers more or less at full volume. It was only when you’d open the door to her sitting room that the noise would hit you.”

  She smiled and they looked out at the view. “This is what I missed most in London,” she said. “Being able to come up here and just walk and walk and walk.”

  “You will be going walking again on Tuesday?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m hopelessly predictable.”

  “May I come?”

  She looked at him. “Yes, I meant what I said the other day, but there is one condition.”

  He frowned. “Oh?”

  “That you stop smoking. There’s no point in you coming walking with me and trying to get fit if you go and light up the minute you’re home.”

  His eyebrows rose and she wondered if she had offended him.

  “You’re right, but I can only try. And, maybe, we could somehow squeeze in a bit of research on the O’Haras without Steph finding out?”

  “Somehow is the question, but we’ll try.” They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. “Dad has given me some of Mum’s things. Photos, jewellery and her journals. She definitely knew what Danielle was doing. She tried both times to talk some sense into Danielle but Danielle wouldn’t listen. Mum told her she’d regret it for the rest of her life then gave up. I don’t think they ever spoke to each other again. Whenever Michelle wanted to come to stay with us it was me who would have to pass on Mum’s yes or no.”

  “You never thought that that was a bit odd?”

  She shrugged. “It had always been like that. One of the photos was of one of Connolly’s Christmas dinners. Mum and Danielle are sitting opposite each other. I’ll bring it to your office so you can scan it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was strange,” she admitted. “Reading the journals. I kind of felt like I was intruding – stupid really. But they are answering a lot of questions. Some that I wasn’t all that keen on having answered.”

  “Like what?”

  She sighed. “Dad wanted a son but all he got was me.”

  “He’s bloody lucky to have you.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “I just hated seeing it written down like that. I flipped through all the journals but I’m wary of reading them from cover to cover.”

  “Maybe it’s too soon. Give it a few months?” he suggested and she nodded. “Have you got enough shelves?”

  “Loads, thank you. The small bedroom looks like a library now. It’s fantastic. I’ve never had a library before.”

  “Every home should have one.”

  Three hours later she was washing up after dinner and hoping that there was something worth watching on TV when there was a knock at the door. Going downstairs, she found Stephanie outside.

  “I know I shouldn’t say this as I’m here for a lot of R and R but I am bored out of my mind. Mother is visiting a friend, darling brother is in the office as per usual, so I was wondering what you do here for a bit of fun?”

  “Fun?” Sophia echoed.

  “Yes, you know? When you enjoy yourself?”

  “Ms Nelson’s mother died recently, Stephanie.” They heard Heaton’s voice and turned. “I hardly think that she is eager for fun.”

  “Ms Nelson? Bloody hell, have I travelled back in time, or what? Sophia, meet Thomas. Thomas, meet Sophia.”

  She and Heaton stared at each other.

  “Can I call you Sophia?” Stephanie asked. “Or do you actually prefer Ms Nelson?”

  “No – I mean – yes, call me Sophia.”

  “Good, that’s that sorted out. Now, fun anyone? I know a nightclub is out of the question, a) because I look like something from Doctor Who, b) Thomas only has a vague recollection of what a club is, and c) poor Sophia is in mourning, so that leaves the cinema or we do something here?”

  “Well, I’ve got quite a few DVDs?” she ventured.

  “Oh, at last. Thomas, be a darling and go and find a bottle of wine while Sophia and I choose a DVD for us to watch.”

  “Steph, I’m busy,” he told her irritably.

  “No, you’re not. I was watching you draw something a few minutes ago, so off you pop.”

  Heaton flushed, Sophia quickly turned away, and she and Stephanie went upstairs.

  “Oh, these flats are lovely.” Stephanie went to the window and peered out at the stable yard. “What a transformation. Now, let’s have a look at your DVDs. I’d better choose something that won’t send Thomas to sleep.”

  Stephanie eventually chose The Last of the Mohicans after going through the entire collection and leaving most of them on the floor.

  “I hope Lord…Thomas hasn’t seen it.”

  “He won’t have,” Stephanie replied confidently. “The last complete film Thomas saw was E.T. It was my birthday treat. He cried at the end but don’t tell him I mentioned it.” Leaving the DVD on top of the Freeview box, she went to the door. “That you, brother of mine? Come up, then.” Heaton came in and Stephanie took the bottle of wine from him. “Australian, good choice.”

  “Shall I open it?” Sophia suggested.

  “Thomas can do it. Find him a corkscrew.”

  She went to the cutlery drawer and passed it to him then went to look for three wine glasses.

  “Sorry about this,” he whispered, pulling the cork out of the bottle.

  “It’s all right, I wasn’t really doing anything. Were you busy?”

  “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Here.” He passed her the opened wine.

  “Thanks.” She poured them each a glass of the wine then sat down on the sofa beside Stephanie, leaving Heaton the armchair.

  “Okay, are we ready?” Stephanie pressed play.

  Sophia had seen the film countless times so she was able to alternate her gaze between the television and Heaton’s face. He sipped at the wine and seemed to be genuinely engrossed in t
he story. When the film ended, Stephanie wiped her eyes.

  “It always makes me cry,” she sniffed. “So, Thomas? Better than E.T.?”

  “They’re very different films, not that I’ve seen many recently…”

  “No, you haven’t. Do you actually watch any television at all, Thomas?” Stephanie demanded.

  “The news. Documentaries, and some crime drama.”

  “Thomas, darling, how old are you?” Stephanie added.

  He frowned. “You know how old I am.”

  “This is for Sophia’s benefit. She must think you’re at least a hundred and two, not forty.”

  “I’m busy, Stephanie.”

  “You’re always busy,” she snapped. “Whether you’re actually busy-busy or just drawing pictures, I don’t know. I mean, look at you. Those bloody suits. Everyone knows who you are, so why do you have to dress the part, too? They make you look like Grandfather, especially when you’re wearing your glasses. Just wear something that will tell people that you’re still young, for God’s sake.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” He got up and put his glass down on the breakfast bar. “I can only apologise for Stephanie’s behaviour, Ms Nelson. Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Good God, he’s back to Ms Nelson again. I know you’ve got some decent clothes, Thomas, I bought them for you. Wear them,” she shouted after him as he left the flat. The door slammed and Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t he irritate the hell out of you, Sophia?”

  “He’s my employer…”

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Bugger, though. I shouldn’t have teased him about his drawings because they are quite good. Have you seen any?”

  Sophia flushed. “No,” she lied.

  “I’ll get him to dig some out for you. It’s nice and cosy here, isn’t it? The house is bloody freezing. I’d forgotten that it was only about one degree warmer than Siberia. I bet you’ve never gone to bed in P.J.’s with thermals underneath and a bathrobe over them?”

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  Stephanie laughed. “God knows what Thomas wears in bed. Sorry, that image will probably give you nightmares. I’d better be nice to him, though, I want to ask if I can move into the flat next door while I sort myself out.”