A Summer of Secrets

by Lorna Peel

  He stubbed out the cigarette before going to a drawer in the desk and pulling out a cardboard folder, leaving it on the desk for her.

  She opened it. There was quite a bundle of drawings but the first was herself reclining naked on a bed. The second was herself again as The Birth of Venus. The third was herself in the throes of sexual ecstasy, the drawing she had seen on his office desk. Bloody hell, had the woman been looking through these?

  “You’re disgusted?” he asked quietly.

  “No…I don’t think so.” She went on through the drawings. The fourth was of herself up on the moors looking into the distance with him watching her. It was a beautiful drawing with Thomas doing justice to himself at last. “I love this one.”

  “Yes, you’re beautiful in it.”

  She smiled. “I meant you. There’s no caricature, just you.”

  “And the others?” he asked. “Of you?”

  “Well, I’ll never be able to look at The Birth of Venus in quite the same way again.”

  He grimaced. “I have embarrassed you, I’m sorry.”

  “No. Um, it’s just that I try not to look at myself naked.”

  “Why not? You’re beautiful.”

  She shrugged. “Others would see me as…well-built.”

  “Well, you’re not and it’s my view that counts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she had to admit.

  “I’m sorry about last night. I think I was trying to put you off me. Or at least play up the downside to being Lord Heaton. If that makes sense.”

  “I can see what being Lord Heaton has done to you,” she said softly. “And I think you need someone to share the burden with. We just need to convince my dad that I’m not mad.”

  He finally smiled. “When do you want to invite him over for dinner?”

  “Tomorrow?” she suggested. “It’s my day off so I can go shopping and prepare the meal. I was thinking roast beef and Yorkshire pudding?”

  He nodded. “And for dessert?”

  “Which you’ll only get when you’ve cleared your plate.” She laughed. “I don’t know…ice cream?”

  “I love ice cream.” He ran his hands down her back to her buttocks. “But not as much as I love you.”

  He bent and kissed her until they heard someone clearing their throat at the door. Lady Heaton stood watching them.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt but I heard from Helen that one of this morning’s group wandered off?”

  “Yes,” Thomas replied. “Despite Sophia’s threats with the tranquilliser gun.”

  “I’m sorry?” Lady Heaton asked, looking taken aback.

  “A joke,” Thomas explained. “The woman wanders off a lot, apparently.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I escorted her back to the hall and she re-joined the group,” Sophia told her.

  “Good. Any news on Danielle?”

  Sophia felt Thomas tighten his grip on her.

  “Not since her daughter took her home, Lady Heaton,” she replied.

  “Good. Well, I’ll…” Lady Heaton tailed off and left the room, closing the door after herself.

  “I’m going to have to go and see Michelle,” Sophia told him. “She’s my best friend.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll go now,” she decided. “She’ll be back home from picking Cathy up from school.”

  Twenty minutes later, she rang Michelle’s doorbell and waited nervously for the door to open. Michelle opened the door and stared at her for a moment.

  “Sophia,” she greeted her in a flat tone.

  “Can I come in?”

  Michelle nodded and Sophia followed her down the hall to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what to do…”

  “With your best friend’s alcoholic mother, I know,” Michelle finished harshly. “She went home this morning. I poured her back onto the train.”

  “Oh, Michelle, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  “What happened to your mother wasn’t her fault,” Michelle cried. “What’s happened to my mother is her fault.”

  “How long has she been drinking?”

  Michelle shrugged and switched the electric kettle on. “Since before I was born. She’s never turned up here drunk before, though, that’s a first.”

  “How is your dad coping?”

  “Badly.”

  “What about Alcoholics Anonymous?” Sophia suggested.

  “She went once. Years ago, and arrived home in floods of tears. Went on a bender almost immediately and swore she’d never go back. She’s killing herself and doesn’t seem to care.” Michelle smiled bitterly and went to a cupboard for the coffee and lifted down a jar. “Anyway, how’s it going with Lord Heaton?”

  “Very well.” Sophia went to the fridge for milk and passed the carton to Michelle.

  “You’ll have to introduce us.” Michelle sloshed milk into two mugs then added a teaspoon of coffee to each. “I want to make sure he’s good enough for you.” Sophia just managed a smile. “It is serious, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I could be making instant coffee for the next Lady Heaton?” Michelle asked as the kettle clicked off and she poured boiling water into the mugs.

  “You never know. Dad isn’t too keen on the idea.”

  “And you’re surprised?” Michelle added.

  “No, but I just want him and Thomas to try and get to know each other a bit.”

  “Good luck.” Michelle passed her a mug. “So, what is he like, Lord Heaton? When he’s not being ‘Lord Heaton’? Apart from being gorgeous?”

  “Shy.”

  “Shy?” Michelle repeated. “Yes, you mentioned something. Is that why he doesn’t go out much?”

  “He works very hard.”

  “And the sex?”

  Sophia blushed. “It’s good.”

  “Only good?”

  “All right, it’s fantastic,” she admitted.

  “Better than Lee?”

  She smiled. “Infinitely better than Lee.”

  “Wow. A lord, extremely gorgeous, and fantastic at sex. What more could you want?”

  “To try and make my dad understand that there is a man behind the title.”

  The following morning, she went on a shopping expedition to the local butcher and supermarkets. Returning to the abbey, she saw Thomas crossing the stable yard towards her.

  “Need any help?” he asked, lifting two bags out of the boot of the car.

  “Can you cook?”

  “Not really, no,” he replied apologetically. “Well, not a roast, anyway. But I wouldn’t mind watching you.”

  She smiled. “Come on, then.”

  At half past six, she went to collect her father, leaving Thomas watching the vegetables as they began to simmer on the hob.

  “Hungry?” she asked him as they climbed the stairs to the flat ten minutes later.

  “Very.” Her father laughed before sobering as Thomas opened the door of the flat for them.

  “Dad – Thomas. Thomas – my father.” She introduced them again nervously.

  “Lord Heaton.”

  “Thomas, please, Mr Nelson.”

  “William.”

  The two men shook hands and she sighed with relief and went to see to the gravy. Leaving it to simmer, they sat down to the starter – prawn cocktail.

  “Delicious,” her father proclaimed.

  “I agree.” Thomas smiled at her, William Nelson watching him intently.

  “So you love my daughter, then…Thomas?”

  “Yes, I do,” Thomas replied. “Very much.”

  “Is there any point in me asking what you can offer her?”

  Thomas put his spoon down. “Well, yes, there is.”

  “Are you rich, then?” her father asked bluntly.

  “Dad, for goodness sake.”

  “No.” Thomas squeezed her hand. “No, I’m not rich, William. Running a house and estate like this cos
ts a fortune – maintenance, heating, insurance, staff – we all work very hard just to keep the place afloat. Both the house and gardens are now open to the public. There is a shop and a small garden centre. The old farmyard has been converted into holiday accommodation. To be honest, I wanted none of it. This is my home and the way things are going I don’t know where it’s all going to end. I don’t really want to have to start doing Bed and Breakfast but if that’s what it takes…”

  “So what can you offer Sophia?” Mr Nelson asked again. “I mean, she’s going to have to give you children, whether she likes it or not.”

  “I want children, Dad,” she protested.

  Mr Nelson sighed. “God, I wish your mother was here. What does your mother make of all this?”

  Thomas looked startled. “My mother?”

  “Yes. I bet she’s not too happy about you carrying on with a miner’s daughter from the town. I’d have thought she’d have lined up some heiress with piles of money for you.”

  Thomas smiled. “No. And even if she had, I couldn’t marry her unless I loved her. And I don’t believe that I am ‘carrying on’, as you put it, with Sophia. I love her and I am completely astonished that she will even look twice at someone like me.”

  Sophia flushed and got up from the table. “I’ll see to the main course.”

  “Did your parents marry because they loved each other?” Her father was persistent.

  “Yes.” Thomas nodded. “They did.”

  “Your father was a lot older.”

  “Yes, by nearly twenty years. You married…later in life?”

  “I did,” Mr Nelson replied. “I wanted to put a bit of money away first. I worked bloody hard and I had enough for a deposit on a house by the time Sophia’s mother and I wed. How old are you?”

  “Forty.”

  “Up in the town they think you’re a recluse,” her father told him and Sophia winced.

  “I spend too much time in my office but that doesn’t make me a recluse. I’m round and about here all the time.”

  “You were down the mine once?” Mr Nelson asked.

  “Yes, when I was eleven or twelve.”

  “Could you have worked down there?”

  “No,” Thomas replied at once. “I don’t think I could.”

  Sophia turned around with two plates in her hands and saw her father nod.

  “At least you’re honest,” Mr Nelson conceded.

  “Would you want to run this place?” Thomas challenged.

  “No chance.”

  Both men smiled and she put a plate down in front of each of them before going back for her own.

  “Enjoy your meal,” she told them and sat down.

  “I will,” her father replied. “This looks wonderful.”

  “It tastes wonderful, too,” Thomas added.

  “Proper Yorkshire pudding,” she said. “Not stuff out of a packet.”

  “A packet?” Thomas queried.

  “You’d be amazed what you can get in a packet,” her father told him. “Grocery shopping is an education these days. You can even buy ready-made pancakes.”

  “Oh.” Thomas pulled a disgusted face. “I don’t think I’d like them ready-made.”

  “No, they taste like rubber. Sophia makes lovely pancakes.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “But it’s ice cream for dessert.”

  “And not until we clear our plates.” Thomas grinned and her father laughed.

  The two men not only cleared their plates but had second helpings of beef and Yorkshire pudding and still had enough room left for the ice cream.

  “Sophia, that was an excellent meal, thank you,” her father declared.

  “Hear, hear,” Thomas added.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you like whisky, William?” Thomas asked. “I brought a bottle of single malt across with me.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say no.”

  “Good.” Thomas smiled and accepted two tumblers from Sophia.

  “Poor Sophia, you deserve a drink after all that effort.”

  “I’ll have some later, Dad,” she assured him as Thomas poured the whisky. “After I’ve brought you home.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Why don’t you go and sit in the armchair?” she suggested.

  “I think I will.” He sat down and accepted a glass from Thomas. “To Sophia.”

  “Sophia.”

  She bobbed a quick curtsey and, after pouring herself a glass of orange juice, she sat down on the sofa. Thomas sat beside her and smiled at her father.

  “What do you think of the whisky?”

  Mr Nelson took a sip and raised his eyebrows. “Good stuff.”

  “It is.”

  “I like these flats,” Her father added, glancing around the room.

  “Thank you, yes, they did turn out well. Des Fields, the estate manager, and my sister live in the others.”

  “How is your sister?” Mr Nelson asked.

  “Well on the mend and starting to complain of boredom.”

  “Always a good sign.”

  “Yes,” Thomas replied. “She feels that she’s wasting valuable shopping time.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She designs wedding dresses.”

  “Have you ever had to look for a job?” her father inquired. “I mean, would you have to tell them you’re a lord?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid my father died when I was just out of university so this place has been my full-time job ever since. But Stephanie did work for other companies before setting hers up. One knew already, but the other only found out after she had been there over a year. I was at school with a duke and two earls, so I was a long way down the pecking order. But, like I told Sophia, my family have lived here for almost five hundred years and I don’t want to be remembered as the Heaton who had to sell. That’s why I work very hard at it. My father remembered his grandfather after he sold the mine off. He really felt as though he’d failed.”

  “We were lucky with the mine,” Mr Nelson mused. “It survived the Miners’ Strike by five years.”

  Thomas nodded. “It was the end of an era.”

  “It was. And we don’t even have the museum anymore now. Bloody vandals.”

  “Have you tried for a lottery grant or something?” Thomas suggested. “To try and re-open it?”

  “No.” Her father perked up at that. “I must look into it.”

  “And not just the lottery, there must be other grants available.”

  He nodded. “Sophia comes from mining stock on both sides, you know?”

  “I know, she told me.”

  Mr Nelson finished his whisky and put his glass to one side. “It’s time I was going. It was good chatting with you, Thomas.”

  “And you, William. We must do it again.”

  “So?” Sophia asked as she drove him back to town.

  “A nice lad. Quiet, and a bit shy, as you said. But a nice lad all the same. I think your mother would have liked him, too. I’ll nip down to the library in the morning and see what I can find out about these grants.”

  She arrived back at the flat to discover that Thomas had washed up. He poured her some whisky.

  “Thank you.” She took the glass from him and kissed his cheek. “Dad likes you.”

  “I like him. My father was always rather distant. I wish I’d known him better but I was away at school and then university and then it was too late. What did Michelle say when you went to see her?” Sophia pulled a face. “Sophia?”

  “Danielle has been an alcoholic since before Michelle was born. She tried A.A. once and never went back. Michelle knows that she’s killing herself.”

  “Does Michelle’s father not wonder why his wife started drinking?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Michelle never mentioned it.”

  “Danielle is going to give herself away one day, isn’t she?” Thomas asked her.

  “Yes, I’m afraid she is,” she r
eplied quietly.

  After waving off the latest tour group, Sophia went to find Thomas. He was in his office surfing the internet.

  “I’m turning into an internet nerd as well as a ‘recluse’.”

  She smiled. “Come up to the flat, I have a bottle of wine in the fridge.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  She opened the wine then went into the second bedroom where she had stored all her boxes. She went through three boxes before she found her school yearbook and photograph album, left them on the sofa and poured the wine, hearing Thomas coming up the stairs. She passed him a glass and followed him to the sofa.

  She opened the photograph album and went through the pages until she came to Michelle’s wedding.

  “There’s Danielle,” she pointed and he leaned over. Danielle was dressed in a pale blue suit. Thankfully her hat did not cover her face. “That’s Don,” she added. “And that’s Peter. That’s Andrew and his wife. Barbara and her husband, and Kevin and his wife.” She turned the page. “The women. Michelle, Danielle, Tony’s Mum, Danielle’s Mum, me, and the flower girl.”

  “It’s a lovely photograph.”

  “Yes. And it’ll be here for whenever you want to look at it.” He nodded. She closed the album and reached for the yearbook. She flipped through it until she came to her old class. “There’s Michelle.”

  “And where are you?” he asked.

  “There.” She pointed and cringed at her grin, displaying the ugly braces on her teeth.

  “I had braces, too,” he told her. “At primary school. Worse than those.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  He laughed. “They have to be seen to be believed.”

  “I shall expect evidence then.” She turned the page. “Peter’s class. That’s him, there.”

  “Didn’t want his photograph taken by the look of it,” Thomas murmured, pointing to the scowl on Peter’s face.

  “No.” She put the album and yearbook to one side and picked up her glass, seeing him smile. “What?”

  “What do you think Jerry Springer would make of all this?”

  “Jerry Springer?” she exclaimed.

  “Mmm. I saw one of his shows once. Unbelievable. Or so I thought.”

  She laughed. “Sorry, but I just can’t visualise you watching Jerry Springer. Or Jeremy Kyle. Or any of them, really.”