by Susan Lewis
‘Out with some mates. So how did it go with Andee Lawrence?’
Putting the chicken on to grill, Blake gave his hands a quick rinse and took a couple of beers from the fridge. Handing one to Matt, he said, ‘She’s going to make some more calls.’
Matt nodded, and continued to nod as he cracked open the can. ‘Did she think anything had been missed?’
‘Not that she said, but she probably won’t know for certain until she’s carried out her own enquiries.’ He was making it sound a lot more hopeful than Andee had, but Matt needed the boost to get him past this two-year anniversary. They both did, and if a little self-delusion on his part was necessary, well, bring it on, as Jessica would have said. ‘I forgot to tell Andee that you know her son.’
Matt shrugged and picked up his phone to read a text. ‘I saw him today,’ he said.
‘Luke Farnham? To speak to?’
‘Yeah, to speak to. He came down to the beach with his sister where we were all hanging out. She’s pretty hot these days. I don’t remember her being like that before.’
Blake cast him an interested look.
Matt’s eyebrows rose. ‘You don’t have to read something into everything I say,’ he protested.
Grinning, Blake let it drop, though a summer romance would be a godsend for Matt right now, it might just focus him in a direction that was a whole lot healthier than the place he was in at present. However, getting involved with Andee’s daughter? What would Andee think of that?
‘What?’ Matt prompted. ‘Nothing’s going to happen, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’
‘I’m not afraid. I wish it would. Maybe you need a refresher on the birds and the bees. We could sit down after dinner if you like.’
‘Yeah right, I’m definitely up for that.’
Blake laughed past the memory of Jess teasing her twin for being a virgin. Those days were a long way behind them now, but there had been no steady girlfriend since Jessica’s disappearance.
A few minutes later they were tucking into large bowls of steaming noodles topped with delicious oils, spices, chicken and veg. After agreeing that it was one of his better culinary efforts, Blake said, ‘Something else happened today. Or I thought it did. I’m not sure now.’
Matt scowled. ‘Duh! Riddles.’
Blake had thought hard about whether or not to go down this route, especially when it was probably going to lead nowhere, or at least nowhere helpful. In the end, it was the pact that he and Matt had made almost two years ago, that they should have no secrets from each other, that persuaded him to speak up.
‘There was someone on the square outside the shop,’ he said, reaching for his beer. ‘He looked just like Tyler Bennett.’
Matt stopped eating as his expression turned sour. ‘Was it him?’ he asked quietly.
Blake shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. By the time I got outside he’d disappeared into the crowds.’
Matt sat back in his chair, his face hard with loathing. ‘What would he be doing here?’ he demanded.
Blake shrugged and shook his head. ‘He could be on holiday, or maybe it wasn’t him at all.’
‘If it is, and he’s looking for trouble, I’ll be ready for him.’
‘No, Matt. If you see him I want you to turn around and walk the other way. He’s caused this family enough grief for one lifetime, we really don’t need any more.’
Though Matt didn’t argue, Blake could tell that it was going to be almost impossible for him to ignore the caution.
‘Did you tell Andee Lawrence that you saw him?’ Matt asked.
‘If it was him – and no, I didn’t, although I probably should, just in case I was right. The build and hair colour were definitely the same, and he was staring across at the shop when I spotted him next to the fountain. I don’t know how long he’d been there, maybe he’d just stopped to check his phone. All I know is that he’d vanished by the time I got out there.’
‘What would he want?’ Matt growled. ‘What the hell else does he think he can do to us?’
Blake had no idea, so he simply shook his head.
‘He can’t have had anything to do with what’s happened to Jessica,’ Matt stated angrily. ‘The idiot’s so thick he’d never be able to pull off something like that.’
‘Like what? We don’t know what happened to her, but I’m inclined to agree. She’d never have gone near him, but even if she did . . .’ He broke off as Matt’s mobile started to ring. ‘Do you want to take it?’ he asked.
Matt checked the caller and shook his head. ‘It’s only Zac. I can ring him back.’ His dark, injured eyes returned to Blake. ‘If he is here, do you think we can get him arrested for harassment?’
‘Not unless he harasses us and so far he hasn’t.’
‘But standing across from the shop, staring in . . . That’s got to mean something.’
‘He has nothing to gain from coming here and being associated with us again. Anyway, just because he had razor-cut red hair and tattoos . . .’
‘Are you going to tell Andee Lawrence?’
‘If either of us sees him again and feels convinced it’s him, I will. Otherwise, there doesn’t seem any point.’
Chapter Five
‘So where were you until after ten last night?’ Rowzee demanded, intrigued to know, and enjoying the tease.
Pamela was at her dressing table, studying her reflection with deep interest.
‘It’s you,’ Rowzee assured her.
Pamela’s eyes flicked to hers in the mirror. ‘I don’t think I heard you knock,’ she remarked smoothly.
‘The door was open. Can I ask why you’re pulling your face about like that?’
‘I’m thinking of getting it lifted,’ Pamela admitted, raising and tugging the loosened skin on her cheeks and neck, apparently trying to work out how much younger it would make her look if she could be rid of the baggy bits.
‘I see.’ Rowzee was amused. ‘Will that be before you have liposuction, or at the same time?’
Pamela’s eyes narrowed.
‘I just thought,’ Rowzee said innocently, ‘if you’re going to have a general anaesthetic to reduce your hips and thighs, which is what you were talking about last week, then why not get the whole lot done at once? They might even give you a discount for bulk.’
Pamela winced at the last word. ‘I’m fed up with dieting,’ she sighed, sitting back in the chair. ‘I’ve been doing it all my life and I’m bigger now than I’ve ever been.’
‘You’re not big, you’re just curvy, and most men love curvy women.’
Pamela’s eyes sharpened. ‘If you’re about to mention Bill Simmonds . . .’
Rowzee’s hands shot up. ‘He never even crossed my mind,’ she lied. ‘Anyway, they say dieting makes you fatter, so maybe you should just give it up and enjoy life? You’re looking very lovely in that dress, by the way. Coral suits you, and it’s a good idea to wear something that fits, you should try it more often.’
‘And you,’ Pamela spat back, ‘should cover your arms. A woman your age never has good arms and whether you like it or not, you’re no exception.’
‘I’m sixty-five, not twenty-five. No one expects me to have good arms, or a young face, or a girlish figure. You need to try and be happy in your own skin, Pamela . . . No, don’t shout at me, it wouldn’t be a good way to start the evening and the caterers will be expecting us downstairs any minute.’
‘I need to make a phone call first.’
‘Who to?’
‘What do you mean, who to?’
Trying it in French, Rowzee said, ‘A qui?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I do.’
‘I don’t ask who you’re calling all the time, so why are you bugging me? Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’
As Rowzee turned for the door she glanced along Pamela’s bookshelves, a habit of hers, and spotting a paperback with a torn spine she took it out, intending to glue it back together. To her amazeme
nt it turned out to be the most unlikely addition to Pamela’s collection. ‘What’s this doing here?’ she asked, holding up a copy of The Satanic Bible.
Pamela looked round and almost shrank in horror. ‘You must have put it there,’ she accused. ‘And now you can take it away again. I suppose you thought it was funny, putting something like that in my room?’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ Rowzee assured her. ‘I thought you’d thrown it out when you found it in Victor’s library.’
‘I did. I mean, I thought I did. You must have rescued it.’
Rowzee laughed.
‘I think it’s disgraceful that he even owned it,’ Pamela snorted. ‘I know you say it was for research, but I used to wonder about him . . . He was always far too interested in the dark arts . . .’
Still laughing, Rowzee kept hold of the book and continued to the door. ‘By the way, it seems the little trick you tried playing on nature hasn’t worked. It’s raining.’
‘No doubt because you told everyone it was my birthday, not yours.’
Rowzee didn’t deny it, although she hadn’t told anyone. Graeme probably had though, and Pamela’s daughters certainly would have. ‘If someone brings me a present, I’m keeping it,’ she warned, and with an airy little wave she crossed the landing to her own room, still enjoying the memory of Pamela accusing Victor of being into black magic.
‘I always knew there was something strange about you,’ she’d cried heatedly. ‘And don’t try passing it off as research to me. I’m not as gullible as my sister.’
Assuming his best astonished manner, Victor had said, ‘It’s not a secret, you know. Would you like to become a member of our cult? We’re crying out for vampires.’
He’d teased her mercilessly, until in the end she’d stomped off in high dudgeon vowing never to set foot in their ungodly house again. Rowzee couldn’t remember exactly how long she’d stayed away on that occasion, but she was fairly certain that it was Graeme who’d brought her back, insisting there was nothing to fear.
As if anyone could ever have had anything to fear from Victor. He’d been the gentlest, sweetest, most generous person alive – his irrepressible roguish streak notwithstanding. He’d also been very fond of Pamela in his way, and Rowzee knew Pamela had felt the same about him – she’d seen her wiping away tears at his funeral. However, it was true that he’d had secrets, well one, anyway, that Rowzee knew about, but it was nothing like the nonsense Pamela had accused him of. Devil worship, as if! No, the part of his past that he had been hiding was nothing at all to do with an unsavoury cult, but it could still make Rowzee anxious, even nervous, today.
Deciding this evening really wasn’t the time to dwell on the awful day that Victor had come home all bloodied and bruised, which was when he’d been forced to reveal his secret to her, she skilfully swept it aside and went to fluff up her hair.
A few minutes later she was about to go and check on the caterers – her birthday present to Pamela – when she heard someone knocking on Pamela’s door and Graeme calling out for the birthday girl.
‘Don’t come in! Don’t come in!’ Pamela squealed. ‘I’m on the phone.’
Able to imagine exactly how her brother would respond to that – with as much amusement as Rowzee had – Rowzee threw open her own door and was immediately treated to a cheery wink as he crossed the landing to sweep her into an embrace.
‘You look terrific,’ he told her. ‘In fact, I do believe I could eat you all up.’
Laughing at the threat she used to make to him when he was small and she and Pamela already in their teens, Rowzee said, ‘You look rather dashing yourself, young man. Are the boys able to make it? It would be wonderful to have at least one of them here.’
‘I’m afraid they’re in Turkey with their mother and stepfather,’ he reminded her, ‘but they send their love.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve had emails so I know that. Such a pity they’re missing the party.’
Tucking her arm through his, Graeme walked her towards the stairs. ‘So who’s her ladyship on the phone to?’
‘Heaven knows, but it sounds as though she’s taken her clothes off to make the call.’
Laughing, he stepped back and gave Pamela’s door another playful knock.
‘Who is it?’ she called out grandly.
‘Beelzebub,’ Rowzee called back, astonishing her brother.
‘You’re very funny,’ Pamela declared, coming on to the landing. ‘Darling, lovely to see you,’ she cooed at Graeme, wrapping him in her floaty chiffon sleeves. ‘Did you bring the champagne?’
‘Of course. Everything’s sorted, you don’t need to worry about a thing. You look . . . amazing. New dress?’
‘As a matter of fact it is,’ she admitted, giving him a twirl. ‘I had it delivered from a very upmarket Internet company who only sell designer clothes. It came by courier from London and they’d have had it picked up for free if it turned out not to be suitable, but I rather think it is.’
It was, in fact, the loveliest dress Rowzee had seen Pamela in for some time, and she rather regretted her jibe about it fitting now, as it would have been much kinder to tell her how very glamorous she looked in what was undoubtedly a very expensive creation.
After righting her wrong, she promptly dropped herself in it again by telling Graeme about the plans for a facelift.
‘Can’t you keep anything to yourself?’ Pamela sighed as Graeme regarded her darkly.
‘As a matter of fact, I’m very good at secrets,’ Rowzee informed her, ‘and you didn’t say that this was one. Tell her she doesn’t need it,’ she instructed Graeme.
‘You don’t need it,’ he repeated obediently.
‘You would say that,’ Pamela retorted. ‘Are the girls here yet?’
‘We’d know if they were,’ he replied, gesturing for his sisters to go first down the stairs.
‘Oh my goodness, look at that rain,’ Pamela cried as they reached the busy kitchen with smartly clad caterers darting about all over the place, and the French doors wide open to the terrace. ‘It’s torrential.’
‘But rather lovely,’ Rowzee declared, enjoying the scent of wet grass and cooling air that was drifting in from the garden. ‘We can still use the covered part of the terrace, and there’s plenty of room inside if we move some furniture.’
Apparently remembering something, Pamela turned to Graeme. ‘Lucie tells me Andee Lawrence is coming,’ she declared excitedly. ‘That’s marvellous news, especially if her husband comes too. We can try to persuade him to run for mayor,’ and spotting her daughters arriving with their husbands and children she sailed off to greet them.
Holding him back as he made to follow, Rowzee whispered, ‘Am I right in thinking that you and Andee Lawrence . . . Weren’t you seeing her for a while?’
With an ironic grimace Graeme said, ‘Nothing ever gets past you, does it, Rowzee Cayne? You’re right, we had a bit of a thing about three years ago. Nothing serious, and in case you’re wondering, she wasn’t with her husband at the time. In fact, it was before she was married.’
‘I don’t sit in judgement,’ she assured him, although she would have if he had been involved in that sort of deceit, for she’d always considered cheating to be an unforgivable crime. ‘Will you find it awkward if Martin does come tonight?’ she asked.
His eyebrows rose. ‘I shouldn’t think so. We’re all grown-ups, I hope.’
‘I confess I’m looking forward to seeing Andee to find out how her children are getting along at uni, especially Alayna. I do hope they don’t decide to go and live abroad when they graduate, the way yours keep threatening. I miss those boys terribly as it is – if they were so far away . . .’
‘Life would be more peaceful,’ he assured her, turning to catch Katie’s little princesses as they came flying down the hall shouting his name. Scooping them up, one in each arm, he allowed himself to be showered in royal kisses.
‘Oh, Alfie, look at you,’ Rowzee cried delightedly, as Lucie’s two-
year-old knight in shining armour came toddling in through the door. ‘You’re the most handsome little dragon-slayer I’ve ever seen.’
Slashing his sword awkwardly from side to side, Alfie made to stab her as she went down to his height. She never said so to anyone, but he reminded her so much of her own little soldier when he was the same age that it was sometimes hard to look at him without welling up.
‘Rowzee? Rowzee? Are you all right?’ she heard Graeme asking.
Looking up at him, she blinked blearily as she said, ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’
‘Are you dizzy?’ He sounded anxious.
Belatedly realising she was slumped against the wall, she said, ‘What do you mean? I was playing dead, wasn’t I, Alfie?’
Clearly not sure what was happening, Alfie the Lionheart stabbed her again, and she gave a gulp of pretend agony before allowing Graeme to help her to her feet.
She was fine, no harm done, just a little fuzziness in her eyes that would go away in a minute.
What a quick thinker she was! I was playing dead.
Within an hour the house was bursting at the seams with all their guests, and Rowzee was on tipsy-top form as she floated amongst them, loving them all for coming and hoping that Pamela was enjoying herself too. She certainly seemed to be, the way she was laughing so heartily at whatever Charles Stamfield was saying, and since Graeme was with them and Rowzee hadn’t said hello to Charles yet she was just starting in their direction when someone touched her arm.
To her delight it turned out to be Andee Lawrence, looking supremely elegant in a lemon knee-length shift dress and shiny gold pumps. And such glorious hair, all dark curls tumbling around her lovely face and shapely shoulders. ‘I’m so pleased you came,’ Rowzee cried warmly, embracing her. ‘When Lucie told us she’d invited you I wanted to kiss her – and would have if she hadn’t been at the other end of the phone. How are you? You’re looking quite stunning.’