The Summer of Secrets

by Tilly Tennant

  Harper’s smile was wide. ‘I’m so pleased for you,’ she said, guessing what Pip didn’t have time to tell her. They’d obviously picked up where they’d left off as if nothing had ever parted them, and Harper couldn’t be happier for her friend, who’d suffered so much since Esther had left England. No matter who’d told her to move on, how much she’d told herself she ought to start dating again, it had only ever been Esther for Pip. Harper just hoped that, this time, Esther would stick around.

  ‘Thank you,’ Harper said.

  ‘Everything alright at the farm?’

  ‘Yes.’ Harper sent a flirty glance Shay’s way. He waggled his eyebrows and grabbed his crotch. ‘Shay’s been brilliant. I don’t know what I would have done without him.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Pip said. ‘I might stay for the whole week. If that’s OK, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Harper said, hardly taking in what Pip had said at all as Shay was now beckoning her back to his arms. ‘We’ll be fine here.’

  ‘Well… I’ll call you and—’

  ‘Pip?’

  The line was dead.

  ‘I’ve lost her.’ Harper frowned, stabbing at the phone to reconnect the call. ‘Bloody signal.’

  ‘One of the perils of living in the country,’ Shay said, standing and taking the phone from her. ‘Pip knows what it’s like; she’ll expect you to phone her tomorrow now. She’s OK?’

  ‘She’s brilliant by the sounds of things. They’re already out on the town. I’m so happy for her.’

  ‘Then you don’t need to worry about anything, do you?’ Shay put Harper’s phone on the mantelpiece and took both her hands, placing them on the bulge in his trousers. ‘Except for that…’ he added in a silky whisper.

  ‘I can cope with that,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah? Why don’t we put it to the test?’ He grinned, leading her to the stairs.

  * * *

  Cesca put the pile of papers to one side and switched off her desk lamp. Yet again she’d ended up working until dusk coloured the skies above the museum. It probably hadn’t helped that she’d spent over four hours out with Kristofer – first visiting Will and then at the pub discussing what they’d brought away from his place to read through. The time seemed to go nowhere when Kristofer was around, draining away like water from a tap. She’d hardly noticed how late it was until Kristofer himself checked his watch and announced that his father was having routine minor surgery back in Norway early the following morning and Kristofer wanted to get home to phone him and wish him luck. The afternoon had been pleasant, full of banter, intellectual discussion and a healthy dollop of flirting. But now, as night cloaked the city, it was Will Frampton’s face that kept sneaking into her thoughts. It was different, this strange, grudging emotion forming in her gut whenever she pictured him, relived the moment in the old bedroom of his sprawling house when… what? What had happened there? What might have happened had they not been disturbed?

  The fortunes of Silver Hill House and its owner were getting under her skin in a way that probably wasn’t healthy. It certainly wasn’t helping her to compile an impartial report on the finding at Silver Hill Farm. Thank goodness for Kristofer – without any loyalties, at least he’d do a thorough job of working out the facts, just for the joy of the task itself. Which was exactly what she ought to have been doing. But she found herself more and more wrapped up in the potential future of the tumbledown pile that Will called home. She almost wondered if it was the house seducing her thoughts, rather than its resident.

  What was more confusing still was Will’s reaction to Kristofer. There’d been nothing but open friendliness from Kristofer, but Cesca felt sure that if Will could have thrown him off the premises without damaging his insufferable sense of etiquette, he would have done. Kristofer was there to help, was insanely curious and enthusiastic about Will and his family’s lineage, and yet Will, notwithstanding his usual cold courtesy, had seemed to hate him on sight. No matter how she looked at things, Cesca couldn’t work out why.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone skittering across the desk as it buzzed an incoming call. Picking it up, she swiped to answer, frowning slightly as she saw Kristofer’s name displayed.

  ‘I was just thinking about you—’ she began, but he cut her off, his words tumbling over one another.

  ‘I’ve found something very interesting; can you come?’

  ‘Now? But…’

  ‘You could come in the morning but I may not sleep with all the excitement,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Actually… I’ll email you a link to the website I’ve been looking at.’

  ‘Website?’ Cesca repeated. ‘What website?’

  ‘Hold on,’ Kristofer said. ‘I’m sending it now. You can read it and tell me what you think. OK?’

  ‘OK. But you still need me to come over?’

  ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘I understand if you don’t want to. But I will stay up for a few hours more, so you are welcome if you want to talk.’

  Cesca smiled to herself. She knew exactly what Duncan would have to say about such a proposition had he been there.

  ‘I’ll take a look first,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll call you once I know what I’m supposed to be excited about and we’ll go from there.’

  Chapter 20

  Kristofer’s offer had been too tempting to resist, and once Cesca had checked out his website and pondered his theory, there was no way she was going home to bed.

  He’d greeted her with a broad smile as he opened his front door, looking as fresh as he had that morning, despite how late it was. Now they were sitting in his study, hunched over his laptop with mugs of heavenly milky coffee made by Kristofer himself; a secret recipe that he wouldn’t reveal but Cesca suspected included a dollop of vanilla essence and maybe some nutmeg. Whatever he’d done to it, she’d never tasted coffee this good.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ she said as she studied the screen, her face pearl grey in the glow. ‘I’d never have found this resource in a million years.’

  ‘It’s all about the approach to research,’ Kristofer said, obviously flattered by the praise, though he was modest enough to brush it away. ‘You are an academic,’ he continued, ‘so you look for records and documents of law. But I am a writer, so I look for gossip.’

  ‘The thing is, I’m not sure how much weight this carries as evidence. As a contemporary account of events it’s fascinating, but there’s nothing to corroborate the story.’

  ‘But it gives us a clue about where to look next, perhaps?’ he asked, sweeping his hair from his forehead as he sat back in his chair.

  ‘It’s as good a line of enquiry as any,’ Cesca acknowledged. ‘What worries me,’ she added, ‘is whether Will knows about this. If he does, then why didn’t he tell us? And if he doesn’t, why has his family hidden it?’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Kristofer said. ‘Perhaps his family have only lost the secret, rather than hidden it.’

  ‘I suppose that’s possible. But it seems as if every bit of family history has been painstakingly recorded so why not this event? It changes the whole focus of the investigation if it does turn out to be true. I’ll have to go and see him tomorrow.’

  Cesca drained her cup and then peered into it regretfully, as if she could somehow will it to produce more of the marvellous brew, like the little porridge pot in a story her mum used to read to her.

  ‘Would you like me to come?’

  Cesca looked at him. She was certain Will would clam up at the first sight of Kristofer, and she needed a bit of honesty from him, if nothing else.

  ‘It might be useful if you employ your super detective skills more gainfully by turning up some more information for us. That is, unless you have other work to do. I don’t want to guzzle up all your time and I’m sure you have books to write and stuff…’

  ‘This is my new project. I’m excited about this story already and I’m keen to find all the facts. If you need my help I am happy to give it; I’m only g
rateful that you are allowing me to.’

  Cesca looked down into her cup so her expression wouldn’t give away the vague sense of misgiving that plagued her whenever she was reminded that perhaps she was giving Kristofer more access to this case than he ought to have. But he had this way of inviting trust, and she was enjoying the process so much with him on board that the thought of letting him go now was not one she wanted to dwell on. As long as he was discreet, she was sure it would be OK. Duncan knew, of course, but Duncan was so wrapped up in his own research that he didn’t have the energy to care either way. Cesca also suspected that he had a secret crush of his own on Kristofer, but then again, it was hard to imagine who wouldn’t.

  She looked up at him. ‘You will keep what you’ve found so far to yourself for now, won’t you?’

  He inclined his head. ‘For sure. So you want me to carry on with the research?’

  ‘I’d love it,’ she said. ‘What you’ve found so far isn’t exactly hard proof, but it feels like a breakthrough.’ Caught by a sudden yawn, she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry! I think maybe it’s bedtime!’

  ‘For me too,’ he said, and Cesca wondered for a moment what would follow. They’d been getting on so well, and over the course of really what amounted to just a couple of days they’d become close. She’d fancied him like mad the first time she’d seen him and he seemed to be comfortable with her outrageous flirting. But he got up and took her mug from her with a smile. ‘You will be safe driving home?’ he asked.

  She nodded. There would be no offer of steamy sex tonight; perhaps not any night. Strangely, Cesca was almost relieved, though she didn’t know why.

  * * *

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Shay said, pulling on his jeans as Harper rubbed at her hair with a towel. ‘You know I wouldn’t do this unless I had to.’

  ‘I know, but you said you could help me out this week.’

  ‘That was before the job came in. I can’t turn down jobs, especially when they’re this big.’

  ‘Will you be able to come by at all?’ Harper wrapped the towel around her head and folded her arms.

  ‘I doubt it, and it’s pointless me promising otherwise.’

  ‘How am I going to manage?’

  Shay turned to look at her. ‘I don’t know. Look, I’m sorry but maybe you and Pip should have sorted this out before she went. I helped yesterday because I could, but today I can’t. You’ll have to get help from the village or something.’

  ‘At such short notice?’

  ‘Then I suppose you’ll have to close if you can’t manage.’

  ‘I can’t close!’

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to say!’ Shay snatched his belt from the bed and looped it into his jeans. ‘I haven’t planned this on purpose and if you knew things would be desperate without an extra pair of hands then you should have put a contingency plan in place.’

  Harper rubbed at her temples. Not only was she faced with the prospect of running the farm alone on around five hours of sleep, but she had a hangover to boot. Perfect. She’d had her doubts last night, but she was seriously beginning to regret letting Shay tempt her with a night of debauchery when she had to work the following day.

  ‘You’ll have to phone Pip and get her back,’ he added, stomping from the room.

  Dropping the towel to the floor, Harper dragged a comb through her wet hair. There was no way she was blowing Pip’s opportunity to make things up with Esther, so she’d have to find a way to manage the farm alone. Shay’s timing couldn’t have been worse, with the weekend almost upon them. He needed the work, but she needed to work too, and weren’t they supposed to be a partnership now that they were planning for a future as a married couple? He could have put his clients off for a couple of days, couldn’t he? He’d done it before when he’d needed to.

  ‘Could you at least feed the animals before you go?’ Harper called down the stairs. There was no reply, but after a moment she heard the back door slam shut and had to assume he’d gone out to the farmyard.

  ‘Thank you,’ she muttered to herself. ‘So very kind.’ She stopped in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection. God, she looked like shit. It didn’t bode well for the day ahead.

  * * *

  Allie had been sleeping. What time had she finally drifted off: three, maybe four o’clock? The sound of the front door had woken her, but in her groggy state she couldn’t tell if that was Greg leaving to take Josh to school or returning from the run. Rolling over, she looked at the bedside clock and decided that he must have already dropped him off.

  She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the tap being run, the kettle being switched on and the theme of the breakfast news as Greg tuned in. It would be a good idea to go and talk to him before he logged onto his work emails and became engrossed, but her body refused to propel her out of bed. The muffled echoes of him speaking to someone on the phone reached her. Work, she supposed – it was rarely anything else. That had been part of the original problem, as she recalled, though now things were such a mess it was hard to pinpoint the epicentre. Their marriage was a tangle of lies and she couldn’t see where to start unpicking. Perhaps Greg was right – perhaps there was nothing left worth saving. A clean start – maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. But then her stomach clenched at the thought that her clean start might not include Josh. She’d fight for custody, of course, but Greg could be convincing, and right now she looked like the unfit parent. Mother or not, she might not win.

  The phone call ended, and all Allie could hear now was the TV. With a superhuman effort, she pushed herself up and out of bed.

  * * *

  ‘We need to talk.’ Allie sat on the sofa across from Greg’s chair. He muted the television and turned to her.

  ‘I thought we had talked.’

  ‘With our sensible heads on,’ she said. ‘While Josh is out and our tempers are cool.’

  He placed his mug of coffee on a side table and turned to her. ‘OK.’

  Allie took a breath. ‘I know you said you were taking Josh away from me, and I understand why. But I hope you’ll think it over before you make a final decision that might be harsher on him than either of us can imagine. Perhaps we won’t see the effects now, but we might well see them in the man he’ll become. I don’t know about you, but I’d never forgive myself for that.’

  ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘The problem is that I don’t know if I can trust you to take care of him when I’m back in Germany.’

  ‘But you can!’ Allie leaned forward. ‘You can trust me! After this, do you think I would do anything to jeopardise his safety ever again?’

  ‘I want to believe that, but if I’m not here I’d be powerless to prevent anything bad happening and I don’t know if you have any idea how distracting that would be for me. Work is stressful enough without the added burden.’

  ‘Things happen wherever children are. He could be at boarding school or with your parents and he’d still never be completely safe.’

  ‘Safer than with you.’

  ‘No, not safer than with me, because I’ve truly learned my lesson and I will devote every moment of my time from now on to being his mother. When you come home for vacation, you might not want to touch me or even talk to me and that’s OK, I get that. But let’s be parents for Josh, and let’s do that together. Please… don’t cut him out of my life and don’t cut me out of his. It’s not the way.’

  He was silent. He was going to walk away, refuse to listen to any more of her pleas. But then he held her in a frank gaze.

  ‘What you did yesterday was brave,’ he said.

  ‘Yesterday?’ Allie asked, thinking back to all the things that happened. ‘I don’t…’

  ‘Going to see Harper Woods. I didn’t think you’d do it.’

  ‘But you told me to.’

  ‘I know. I still didn’t think you would and I take my hat off to you for going through with it. We can’t ever be how we once were, but maybe we
can be friends.’

  Allie nodded eagerly. ‘I’d love that,’ she said.

  ‘We’d still be splitting up.’

  She nodded again, less certain this time. ‘I know.’

  ‘But maybe you can stay here in this house with Josh. I want your absolute assurance that I can trust you to be there for him.’

  ‘You know I will,’ she said. ‘It would mean everything to me.’

  He was silent again. ‘I need to think this over. I can’t promise I won’t change my mind at this point.’

  ‘I know. All I was asking was that you think about it. I know you’ll make the right decision when you do.’

  ‘You always did know how to flatter me,’ he replied with a faint smile.

  ‘I don’t suppose it will get me as far these days, though.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I always loved you,’ she said. ‘Still do.’

  ‘You had a strange way of showing it.’

  ‘I know you find it hard to believe and I don’t blame you. I just wanted to say, for the record. I guess it might be my last chance so I wanted you to know. It’s all my fault, I know; I screwed up massively. But I never meant to hurt you or Josh.’

  Greg nodded slowly. Then he reached for his coffee and took a sip before retrieving the remote control for the television. Allie took it as a sign their conversation was over – at least for now. There was so much more she needed to say, but she understood that she needed to take it slowly for his sake. There was so much to make him understand that she barely understood herself, and while he was opening up, he was doing it slowly, bit by bit, in the only way he knew how. The pace of their healing was being dictated by him now, but Allie was hopeful. At least it felt like healing rather than tearing apart, and that was a rare thing these days.

  Chapter 21

  Unable to get a reply from his phone, Cesca drove up to Silver Hill House to find Will walking the boundary wall of the gardens, head bowed as if looking for something.