A Country Scandal: a sexy, scandalous page-turner

by Sasha Morgan

  It was the inside that was the problem. This being a listed building, he was restricted to a certain degree, but even that wasn’t the issue. It was the memories it harboured that caused Tobias to stand still, take stock and for the thousandth time torture himself with what could have been. He and Carrie had been promised the Gate House for a wedding present. They had planned to live there after their marriage. Carrie had been ecstatic when Tobias’ parents had announced their intention to give them their own home on the estate. Together they had made plans for their love nest, and Tobias remembered Carrie going from room to room, deciding on the décor and furnishings. He had watched her, smiling, drinking in the sense of utter happiness she made him feel, deep down to his core.

  He gulped and his eyes misted over. Cursing, he forced himself to get a grip. Pull yourself together, man, it’s been ten years. A whole decade since she had been cruelly snatched away that fateful night. Even now, Tobias just couldn’t comprehend how Carrie had vanished from his life, a life that should have been shared with her. Would they have had children by now? Probably. He allowed himself to picture Fox playing with his two little girls, piggybacks on the lawn, squealing with delight, his wife, Tatum, watching with laughter and adoration. Tobias physically doubled over, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. It was so unjust, brutally unfair; and it was never ending. Never had anyone come close to Carrie. True, he’d had plenty of girlfriends, rich, celebs, models, but they were just bed companions, playthings that helped pass the time. They weren’t soul mates he could open up to. Some had tried to delve inside that incredibly sharp and complex mind of his, but to no avail. He was a closed book. His eyes started to fill again. He would not cry. He would not cry. How could there be any tears left? Counselling had been suggested, but Tobias had refused. Nothing and nobody could mend him, of that he was convinced.

  Now, with a big sigh and an iron will he forced himself to begin his list of renovations. All the wooden floors needed sanding down and varnishing, as did the doors. The skirting boards and architraves needed a fresh lick of paint. The kitchen needed ripping out and replacing with more modern, yet traditional units, alongside maybe an Aga to keep that country feel. The boot room he’d convert to a utility room. The main bathroom was actually quite quaint with its claw-foot bath and big brass taps, but he’d need to put in a shower, plus knock through into one of the bedrooms to create another en suite for the master bedroom. He made a list in a notebook and put it in his jacket pocket. Rubbing his hands together, he decided to light the wood burner in the lounge. A log basket holding dried wood and matches stood at the side. Soon the room was filled with warmth.

  Tobias sat on the rug watching the amber flames flicker and dance. His thoughts gravitated back to the past like a magnet. This house held such happy memories. He chuckled to himself at the parties he and Fox had thrown here. Not just wild, crazy ones where endless young men drank themselves stupid on cocktails until the early dawn, playing strip poker with girls they’d coaxed back from the village, but intimate dinners with Carrie and close friends, sharing secrets and ambitions for the future. He watched the fire crackle a little more, then took out his notebook again and decided to draft an advert for the sale of the property to give to the estate manager. It wouldn’t take long with his good team of workers to complete the renovations. After several minutes he’d composed a rough draft.

  Set on the edge of the Treweham Hall estate and surrounded by beautiful parkland, this grade II listed Gate House’s delights are traditional, comprising five bedrooms with mullion windows and open fires. The kitchen and bathroom boast modern restorations, along with the additional en suite to the master bedroom.

  Price? Chewing his pen, he pondered. Probably around £850,000 to £900,000, considering the location and surrounding gardens. With the renovations he’d try his luck at £999,000 – just under a million. Previous experience as a property developer told him to aim high. More often than not there was someone who was prepared to pay the asking price.

  His thoughts were interrupted by his mobile phone. ‘Aunt Celia’ glared up from the screen. This should be interesting, he smirked to himself. Celia was the polar opposite of her sister, Beatrice, being razor sharp, intuitive and extremely observant. She both shocked and entertained Tobias in equal amounts. Although demanding at times and frustrating to the limit, she was ceaseless fun and remained his favourite aunt.

  ‘Aunt Celia, how are you?’ he asked with mirth, knowing what was to follow.

  ‘Ruddy awful. Back’s playing up, the cat’s got the shits and your mother’s just told me you’ve cancelled our Caribbean cruise.’

  ‘We can’t afford it, Celia,’ he stated flatly.

  ‘So finally someone’s taking the finances in hand. Your father never did have any business acumen.’

  With that he couldn’t argue, so he didn’t try.

  ‘Well, I’ve decided. I’ve had enough of it in this poky institute, and since you’ve cancelled my holiday I’m coming to visit.’ That ‘poky institute’ was in fact a top-class retirement community set in stunning grounds. Another expense. It was worth every penny keeping her there, under lock and key, as opposed to running riot in his home.

  ‘Splendid. Sebastian will be delighted.’ She actually scared the hell out of his younger brother.

  ‘Huh,’ she puffed into his ear. ‘I’ll let you know when.’ Then bang went the phone. Conversation apparently over. Shaking his head, Tobias got up and made his way back to the Hall, in desperate need of a large brandy.

  Chapter 10

  The next few days working at The Templar proved to be busy for Megan. Although she enjoyed waiting on and talking to the locals, she came home in the evenings absolutely tired out. She wasn’t used to being on her feet all day, having only ever worked behind a desk. Wandering home from the pub slowly in the early evening dusk, Megan promised herself a luxurious, hot bubble bath and an early night. Seeing the charming row of stone cottages with their lantern porch lights glowing homely in the twilight gave Megan a reassuring warmness. It was amazing how soon Treweham had become her home and she genuinely couldn’t envisage living anywhere else now.

  She noticed her next-door neighbour’s side gate was open. Frowning, she wondered why, aware that Zac, her neighbour’s black Labrador, slept in his kennel in the back garden. Old Ted always made sure Zac was secure and locked in. Sure enough, there was the dog ambling along the roadside, sniffing the flowerbeds, intermittently cocking his leg. Where was Ted?

  Running across the road, Megan gently took hold of a vaguely surprised Zac. ‘Come on, old boy, you shouldn’t be outside here on your own.’ She patted Zac’s head, slowly led him back into his garden and locked the side gate behind them.

  ‘Ted!’

  There was no answer. Megan saw the back door was ajar, so she gently pushed it open and shouted again for her neighbour. Still there was no answer. Megan entered the cottage. All was still and quiet, except for the faint crackle of the radio.

  ‘Are you there, Ted?’ Megan made her way into the sitting room. Ted was slumped in the armchair by the fire. ‘Ted!’ Megan rushed to him and eased his shoulders up. His face was pale and moist, but he was still breathing, just, in shallow little gasps. ‘Ted, I’m ringing for an ambulance, stay with me,’ she pleaded whilst reaching for the mobile lodged in her jeans pocket. She punched out 999, was put through immediately and gave all the necessary details. Megan grasped Ted’s hand and squeezed it hard. ‘Please stay with me,’ she whispered. The ticking of the mantelpiece clock emphasised how slowly the time was passing. Zac whimpered in the kitchen, sensing something was wrong.

  ‘Come here, Zac!’ she called out. Zac wandered in slowly, his head bent and he whimpered again. ‘It’ll be all right, Zac,’ she reassured, hoping she was right. Zac sat next to her and licked her hand, which was clutching Ted’s.

  At last the ambulance arrived. Two paramedics rushed in and assessed Ted. ‘I just found him here, slumped in his chair about tw
enty minutes ago,’ Megan started to ramble, now that shock had set in. One of the paramedics put something delicately into Ted’s mouth. Then they carefully lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him out to the ambulance, Megan following.

  ‘We’ve managed to stabilise him,’ one of the paramedics said over his shoulder, whilst opening the ambulance doors. ‘We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. Can you inform his family?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Megan hovered on the road, not really knowing who that would be. She watched Ted being bundled into the ambulance. Within seconds the blue lights were flashing and the ambulance sped off. She went to stand motionless in the middle of the road, watching it go.

  Suddenly a loud horn sounded, making Megan jump with fright. She just managed to turn in time to see a sports car swerve, marginally missing her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took gasps of air. She squinted her eyes to make out the car’s registration plate, TOB 1. The lunatic! Megan started to tremble, her shock levels peaking with all that had happened, and tears began to spill down her face.

  ‘Are you all right?’ a soft voice spoke somewhere behind her. She turned round to see through her tears a blurry figure standing in front of her. The figure was a young man in combat pants and a white T-shirt. He put an arm loosely round her shoulders and guided her off the road.

  ‘It nearly killed me…’ stammered Megan.

  ‘I know, I saw. He’s a bloody idiot,’ the man stated flatly. Together they made their way back down the lane to the cottages. ‘I’m Nick, by the way. I live up the track,’ he signalled back towards a dirt track, off the main road. Then he frowned when Megan led them into Ted’s cottage. ‘This is old Ted’s cottage.’

  ‘Yes,’ Megan paused, ‘I’ve just found Ted slumped in his armchair and called an ambulance. I live next door.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Nick’s face contorted with emotion.

  ‘I’m Megan.’ She offered her hand, which was still shaking. Nick held it, making her feel safe and warm.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Megan.’

  Zac suddenly barked, startling them both. ‘I’ll look after Zac. We’d better lock up here.’ Megan bent down to stroke a bewildered face with questioning brown eyes.

  ‘Poor chap, he’s wondering what’s going on.’ Nick joined Megan to stroke him. ‘He’s been with Ted since he was six weeks old. I remember giving him his first set of injections. I’m the local vet,’ he said by way of explanation. Then he straightened up. ‘I’ll check the windows are closed upstairs.’

  Nick made his way to the stairs whilst Megan put the fire guard up to the fire. The embers were still warm, which hopefully meant Ted hadn’t collapsed too long ago, and she’d found him in good time. Once the cottage was locked up the three of them went next door to Megan’s.

  ‘Come in, Nick. Would you like a coffee?’ she asked, pushing the front door hard as it had been sticking.

  Nick smiled wryly, ‘I think you need something a little stronger than coffee.’

  ‘Probably,’ agreed Megan, ‘but the strongest I’ve got is wine.’

  ‘Wine it is then.’

  Soon they were both sitting outside on the new wrought-iron furniture Megan had bought for the courtyard garden, with Zac snug at Megan’s feet.

  ‘Looks like you’ve made a friend there.’ Nick pointed towards the sleeping dog.

  ‘Yes, he’s lovely.’ Megan looked up to the inky, dark sky scattered with star dust. The mild evening air was filled with the daffodils’ heady, sweet scent. ‘Cheers,’ Megan handed Nick a glass of sparkling white wine.

  ‘Cheers.’ Nick took the glass and gave a hard sigh. ‘As far as I know, Ted doesn’t have any family, I don’t think there’s anybody to notify about his collapse. I’ll go and visit him in the morning.’

  ‘My gran was a close friend. She said Ted had made her feel welcome when she first moved here.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘About twenty years, not long after my granddad died. She wanted a fresh start, somewhere new, to avoid constant memories, I suppose.’

  ‘How are you finding Treweham?’ Nick smiled, his head tilted to one side. He brushed his long, brown fringe away from his face. Megan noticed how blue his eyes were, and how they seemed to hold a touch of humour, as if he suspected this little village wouldn’t be enough for her. He rested his elbows on the wrought-iron table. His arms were brown and very muscular. His chest would be too, she suspected, judging by the tight white T-shirt. Megan swallowed.

  ‘In truth, it feels like I’m meant to be here somehow, like… well, like home.’ Then stopping, she changed the subject completely, ‘Nick, who was driving the car? You said “he’s” an idiot.’

  ‘There’s only one person it could be with the car registration TOB 1,’ Nick replied in a voice dripping with scorn. Realisation hit her.

  ‘Tobi? Tobias Cavendish-Blake?’

  Nick nodded his head slowly, his face showing complete distaste. ‘Got it in one.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Big smiles for the camera!’ called the news reporter. ‘That’s it, Gary, put your arm round Tracy and hold the winning ticket in the air. Yes, that’s it!’ Gary and Tracy embraced, giggling with excitement. After several more shots were taken, the reporter approached them to ask a few questions. ‘So, how does it feel to be millionaires?’ she beamed, holding a microphone in Gary’s face.

  ‘Well… bit of a shock to be honest, but… well, we’re getting used to the idea, aren’t we, Trace?’ He nudged her with a wink.

  ‘Too right we are,’ Tracy gushed. ‘We still can’t believe something like this has happened to us.’

  ‘So what plans have you got for the three million you’ve won?’

  ‘Not sure, like I said, it’s not properly sunk in yet,’ answered Gary firmly. Tracy looked sideways at him with a slight frown.

  ‘Well, whatever you decide to do, we wish you all the best.’ The reporter shook hands with both of them.

  The next day there they were: front-page news in the local newspaper.

  Gary and Tracy Belcher – local lottery winners!

  Tracy was pleased with the photograph, thinking how good her hair extensions looked, while Gary’s visit to the dentist had given him that real winning smile. The uneven, yellowing front teeth had now been fixed and polished, making them perfect shiny white ones, which were displayed quite a lot lately, as he couldn’t stop smiling. He’d resigned from his job, obviously – who would want to keep stacking freezers in a supermarket five days a week with three million in the bank? Tracy, too, had left the care home, but missed her old friends dreadfully.

  ‘Gary, why did you go all cagey when the reporter asked if we had any plans?’

  He looked wary, then sat down, indicating she sit next to him. ‘Listen, Tracy, I’ve been thinking.’ This sounded serious she thought and sat still. ‘We’ve got to move.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No, hear me out. Everyone round here knows us, knows how much money we have.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, Trace, things have changed. It makes things more complicated now. Before we were just Gaz and Trace, a working couple like everyone else round here, but now… well, now I’m beginning to feel a bit used, taken for granted.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Take for example the other night at the club. Everyone automatically assumes it’s my round, permanently. It’s like I’m only there to pay for everything, not because it’s me, Gary.’ Tracy looked crestfallen, but she knew exactly how he felt.

  ‘I know, I felt similar when Sharon asked me outright for a few grand, bold as brass, like she had every right to.’

  ‘I think we should move. Somewhere nobody knows us.’

  ‘But what about our parents?’ Tracy looked horror-stricken, having always been close to her mum.

  ‘We’ll see them right, of course, but we need to get away, Trace.’

  She understood now, and nodded in agreement.


  At first they searched close to home, a radius of a few miles. After narrowing down a few properties they liked the look of, Gary contacted the necessary estate agents. But news travelled fast and soon they realised that going public and appearing in the papers had been a bad decision. Each estate agent was bending over backwards to assist the new lottery winners, knowing full well how much commission they’d be coining in.

  ‘It’s no good Trace, we’re going to have to look further afield. Everyone knows us in this area. I don’t feel like I’m me anymore.’

  Tracy dully agreed. Her phone had never stopped ringing with ‘old friends’ suddenly wanting to keep in touch. Sharon, her best mate, had continued to ask for money and routinely supposed that Tracy would fund the shopping sprees and lunches she constantly organised. Tracy, too, had become unsettled. She had loved her job in the care home, had really felt needed. She had been needed. Her kindness and attention to the elderly were a credit to her, and she had a genuine gift for making people feel wanted and cared for. Not for the first time she sadly thought of the group of old people that would be wondering where she was. Would they understand what had happened? Would they think she’d abandoned them? A lump formed in her throat. She pictured Alf, sitting by the bay window, patiently waiting for her to come in the morning. Often she would help him with his breakfast and make sure he took his pills with a cup of tea. Who was seeing to Alf now? A tear ran down her face. Now they were having to leave their family. Now they were beginning to realise just who their friends were. Being ousted from your own home wasn’t a pleasant experience, even though you had pots of money to buy another one. This tiny terrace was their first house. They’d been so excited to get the keys and build a home. Tracy had made it theirs with the dozens of photographs framed, depicting their childhood romance, wedding day, honeymoon and family occasions. Focusing on those happy memories changed her mood. It also gave her an idea.