Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties

by Lynda Renham

  ‘There is no one else here Cedric. You finish your paper and cook can finish the bread, and I’ll make my own coffee. I’m not bleeding helpless. You don’t have any aspirin do you?’

  They watch bemused as I make a mug of coffee. Cook says cheerfully.

  ‘It’s Alka Seltzer you’ll be wanting.’

  She plops two into a glass of water. Moments later I throw back the fizzing liquid and, with coffee mug in hand, open the door.

  ‘I can’t get lost can I?’ I ask.

  Cedric, stuck for words, shakes his head. It occurs to me that the Jacks may be at large but console myself that they probably don’t surface until ten either. I emerge into a beautiful garden. Ahead of me is the loch shimmering in the early morning mist. I hug the coffee mug and walk slowly, breathing in the fresh dew-filled morning air. I stroll leisurely around the loch; it is incredibly beautiful. You don’t see this in Battersea at six in the morning. It makes a change from discarded needles, street sleepers huddled in doorways and an assortment of litter from the night before. Mind you, it’s bloody freezing here and the clouds are threatening rain again. I sip my coffee and follow the bank of the loch when I see a lodge ahead. It is surrounded by a veranda and through the mist I can make out someone sitting there. As I approach I see that the someone is in fact Brice Edmunds, and he is drinking from a cup and studying me. I turn to go back but am stopped by his voice.

  ‘You’re an early riser. Can I offer you coffee?’

  I hold up my coffee mug.

  ‘I’m fine thank you.’

  If I had any hopes of bagging Brice Edmunds I can now most certainly forget it. Suffering from a hangover without any make-up and my hair looking a sight must be the most terrifying thing ever. If this were Loch Ness I would be mistaken for the monster. I should have sought out Diamond before I left the house. That would have put him in his place. The cat that is, not Jack Diamond. I think it will take a lot more than me without make-up and scary hair to frighten him off. To top it all, I realise my Aran jumper has a hole in the sleeve.

  ‘Can I tempt you with a top-up then?’ he calls and I can hear laughter in his voice. Actually, a top-up would be rather nice. I edge a little closer to the veranda.

  ‘Well that’s it. You’re definitely trespassing so you might as well have a top-up and some toast,’ he says lifting the cafeteria. The veranda has an awning and although it’s a little chilly I can see the attraction of sitting here. The stunning scenery around Glenwood is truly breathtaking.

  ‘Beautiful isn’t it? This is the best time of day whatever the season.’

  He pushes a chair towards me. I hesitantly sit and wonder why he is being so friendly. He is smiling but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and I can tell he is suspicious of me. He studies me closely and hands me the mug. I take it from him and meet his eyes. His hair is damp and there is a soft smell of soap emanating from him. He’s wearing a brown woollen jumper and a pair of faded jeans. He pushes a plate of toast and a jar of marmalade towards me. The walk has made me hungry and I spread a layer of marmalade onto the toast, and am about to take a bite when he says,

  ‘You know, something has been bothering me all night. Do you know what it is?’

  Holy shit, I’ve got a good idea. I shake my head and try to look innocent.

  ‘Why Hamilton didn’t introduce you to me at Silvia and Hugh’s wedding.’

  I sip my coffee and feel my face suffuse with blood. Why didn’t my soon-to-be bloody fiancé listen to me yesterday when I said we needed to talk to Brice? I’m such a bloody awful liar.

  ‘Perhaps it slipped his mind,’ I say stupidly.

  Like your soon-to-be fiancée slips your mind. Although it’s not that hard to believe is it? I mean, I seem to have completely slipped Julian’s mind, unless of course he really is hanging upside down in someone’s freezer and no longer has a mind to slip.

  ‘And, why you don’t seem like the same Harriet I met at the wedding and then later at the dress shop.’

  His voice is hard and with every word his eyes narrow. Christ, I wish I could think of a snappy answer.

  ‘I don’t like people deceiving my grandmother. If I find out that you …’

  At that moment a truck drives manically towards the lodge. Brice jumps from his chair and almost leaps from the veranda. The truck screeches to a halt and a breathless well-built man jumps from the driver’s seat.

  ‘Sorry Brice, I would have phoned but I didn’t …’

  The man has a thick Scottish accent and wild wiry red hair and a beard to match. Brice rushes round to the passenger side and helps someone out.

  ‘What happened?’ he asks sharply.

  ‘I’m not sure. We were sawing the logs and the next minute he stumbled upon us. He passed out and I saw his jacket and all this blood. It looks bad. He wouldn’t let us take him to the hospital. He’s well drunk. I’ve seen him in the woods but …’

  ‘Can you help me Angus, he’s fighting me.’

  I watch as they struggle with the person in the passenger seat. I then see it is a tramp and the fumes from his breath reach me before they even get him to the veranda and I thought I had a hangover. God, I bet he’ll feel pretty rough later. There is a deep gash in his right arm and his old tatty suede jacket is soaked with blood.

  ‘Harriet, would you fetch my medical bag. It’s on the floor by the kitchen table. Let’s get him into the bedroom and if you’re not too squeamish can you bring a bowl of warm water. There’s a small bowl in the cupboard under the sink,’ he says brusquely.

  Bleeding hell, quick with his orders isn’t he? Squeamish my backside. What a sodding cheek. Do I look like a stupid squeamish blonde? Honestly, the presumptuous bugger. I fumble around the kitchen cupboard resisting the urge to nosy about, and fill the bowl with warm water before opening the medical bag and removing bandages and tape. I see he has medications too, and find the antibiotics. Squeamish, I’ll show him. The other man offers to take the bowl from me but I shake my head and walk to the other side of the bed which is neatly made with sheets, blankets and covered in an ethnic bedspread which he’d obviously brought back with him from abroad. I stare at it enviously for a second and remember all my dreams. I feel a little stab of loss knowing that now those dreams are just that and are unlikely to become a reality for some time now, thanks to Julian’s irresponsibility. The room stinks of alcohol and the man’s unwashed body. Brice has removed the man’s jacket and now rips at the sleeve of his shirt. At the sight of the wound Angus gasps and turns to the door. The wound looks a few days old and is already turning septic. I soak cotton wool in the water and hand it to Brice. He begins cleaning the wound gently and I watch fascinated as his large hands work swiftly and deftly.

  ‘It will need …’

  ‘Suturing,’ I finish for him.

  His head snaps up and his eyes meet mine. He nods at me. Ah, a bit of respect at last. About bloody time too. Just because I don’t talk posh and didn’t go a fancy school doesn’t mean I am plain Jane with no brain thank you very much.

  ‘Can you pass the scissors from the bag?’ he asks softly.

  I remove the scissors but instead of handing them to him I begin to gently cut away at the dead skin. I feel his eyes on me. The man groans. The stench of urine reaches my nostril and I fight the urge to throw up the toast I’d just eaten. I lean over him and the fumes from his breath practically knock me out. I wouldn’t like to be his liver and he certainly couldn’t sell his kidneys.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say quietly. ‘We need to clean the wound and then we’ll close it up.’

  I look up at Brice.

  ‘He should go to hospital,’ I say. ‘He’ll need a tetanus jab.’

  ‘He won’t go. I can give him that,’ he says, closely watching me at work.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ he asks.

  ‘During my nursing training,’ I snap.

  He raises his eyebrows, bites his lips and then gently places his hand on mine.

&nb
sp; ‘That’s fine, I’ll close it up.’

  My body shivers and I feel sure he must feel it. His hand seems to linger on mine longer than it should.

  ‘You and I should have a proper talk,’ he says quietly.

  I slide my hand away from under his and stand up.

  ‘Actually, seeing as you’re capable, perhaps you could fetch the tetanus vial from the fridge.’

  ‘I think I can find it,’ I say confidently.

  The kitchen is a bit messy with a few unwashed mugs in the sink and a scattering of newspapers over the small kitchen table but the fridge is scrupulously clean. The top shelf has several boxes of vials and I search for a tetanus and take it to the bedroom. He takes it from me and nods.

  ‘He has a small gash on his foot, perhaps you can clean and dress that,’ he says abruptly without looking at me. I nod and check the foot. Ten minutes later after cleaning and dressing the wound I go out to the veranda.

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate your help,’ he mumbles. Angus is sitting nursing a mug of coffee. He turns sharply.

  ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. Brice seems to know exactly what he’s doing.’

  He smiles.

  ‘Yes, he’s brilliant. He never turns anyone away.’

  Oh, I think he would like to turn me away pretty quickly if he could. He taps his head with his hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m being very rude. I’m Angus. I have a place along the road there. Are you here from London?’

  ‘Yes, I’m visiting the family,’ I say.

  I take his outstretched hand.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ I say politely.

  Brice walks out onto the veranda and gives me a curious look.

  ‘I’ve given him a sedative. He can sleep here for a few hours. I’ll try and talk him into going to the hospital when he wakes up.’

  Angus stands to leave. I take my cue and walk towards the steps leading down from the veranda.

  ‘I’d better get back,’ says Angus. ‘Thanks Brice, I appreciate it.’

  I go to follow when Brice’s hand stops me and his eyes, sharp and bright lock onto mine. There is something raw and powerful about him and he almost commands me with his eyes not to turn away from him. I feel a mild throbbing between my thighs and fight back a gasp. God, what’s happening to me? He removes his hand and I fall into the nearest chair. Surely he felt something too, but his eyes give nothing away.

  ‘I’ll make some fresh coffee,’ he says calm and controlled.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I mutter but he obviously doesn’t hear me. I’m fine? Blimey, that’s a bloody understatement. I feel drawn to him like a magnet. I need to get this under control and quickly.

  I fan myself with his newspaper. I feel like I’m on fire and the chilly morning air is doing nothing to dampen my flames. He returns with the coffee and pours us both a mug.

  ‘So you’re a nurse?’ he says casually.

  ‘Not any more. I was. I gave it up for …’

  ‘Oh yes, the jewellery business,’ he says cynically. ‘Quite a leap from nursing isn’t it?’

  I sip from the coffee and nod. He continues to look at me and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

  ‘So you and Hamilton are madly in love are you?’

  Right that’s enough. If I stay here much longer and he keeps appraising me with those beautiful eyes of his I shall either reveal everything or throw myself wantonly onto his very desirable body. Both options best to be avoided I think. I stand up abruptly and knock my coffee mug over, spilling coffee across the table.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, rushing into the house for something to clean it up. He moves towards the door at the same time and we collide and I find myself imprisoned in the doorway by his lean muscular body.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ he says quietly, his shoulder lightly brushing my breasts. I fight back the small gasp that threatens to escape and squeeze myself away from him. I need to leave and soon, otherwise I won’t be responsible for my actions. He is back before I have barely moved.

  ‘I ought to get back,’ I say trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

  ‘Yes, back to your loving fiancé,’ he says in that cynical tone I’m coming to know so well. Any thought I had of trying to explain the truth to him is instantly curtailed. He would never understand, in fact, he probably wouldn’t even believe me. He has already formed an opinion of me and nothing I say will change that.

  ‘Thank you for the coffee,’ I say walking towards the steps.

  ‘Thanks for your help.’

  I nod and begin walking back to Glenwood Manor. Hopefully Fi will arrive this afternoon and I can relax a bit. I’m becoming an absolute bag of nerves. I’m not sure I can take much more of this.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack Diamond and Mad Jack Junior sit on a tartan rug overlooking a babbling stream. The thundering traffic of the M6 motorway, just a stone’s throw away, spoils the otherwise tranquil Lakeland countryside. It’s chilly, and Mad Jack shivers even though he is wearing the new leather jacket he bought at Petticoat Lane market.

  ‘Don’t yer think it’s a bit taters to sit out ‘ere Dad? Can’t we go to a posh hotel for dinner? We’ve been on the road since five this morning,’ he whines, throwing a stick in the water.

  ‘What’s a matter with yer? You a bleedin’ man or mouse?’ snaps Diamond.

  He’s not in a good mood. This prick Julian is beginning to get on his tits and his bloody girlfriend even more so. What the hell are they playing at? The prick vanishes and she finds herself a rich ponce and is now getting married. What’s the world coming to? You don’t owe punters money and then shove it in their mush that you’ve got plenty. That Julian’s taking a diabolical liberty. Everyone is ripping everyone off these days; things ain’t what they used to be. Well, no one messes with the firm and gets away with it.

  ‘I bought this lovely new rug, all Scottish looking, and I thought we could ‘ave a nice picnic on it. No gratitude you two, ‘ave yer?’

  Babyface Jack struggles with an oversized picnic basket and drops it onto the rug.

  ‘Be bleedin’ careful with that will yer?’ snaps Diamond.

  ‘You got a body in ‘ere?’ quips Babyface.

  ‘I wish. That little prick Julian’s will do. I’m telling yer, when I find him I’ll ‘ave more than a few verbals with the little shit.’

  Mad Jack Junior dons some gloves and looks around.

  ‘It’s bloody taters ‘ere, that’s all I know. Ain’t there anywhere round ‘ere that does ‘ot dogs or somethin’?’ he asks scratching his arms.

  Diamond shakes his head in exasperation.

  ‘Yeah of course there is, and right around the corner is an ice cream stall an all.’

  Babyface Jack’s face lights up.

  ‘Yeah really? I could kill a Raspberry Ripple,’ he says getting up.

  Diamond pulls him roughly onto the blanket.

  ‘Sit on the bleedin’ blanket you pair of sissies. We’ve come all this way and I said we’d ‘ave a picnic when we got ‘alfway, and a sodding picnic we’re ‘aving. Got it?’

  Both men fall onto the blanket with heavy sighs.

  ‘What about the ‘ot dog?’ asks Mad Jack.

  ‘Don’t be a bloody moron all your life. Do you see an ‘ot dog van anywhere?’

  He opens the basket and takes out a large foil wrapped parcel.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asks, wrinkling his nose.

  ‘That’s me pilchard sarnies. You said I could bring ‘em as long as I didn’t put ‘em near the other stuff.’

  Diamond pulls a face and hands the parcel to Babyface.

  ‘I’ll ‘ave a pork pie and scratchings. I suppose you packed them didn’t yer?’ asks Mad Jack rubbing his leg.

  Two minutes later and the blanket is covered with pork pies, pilchard sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, pickled gherkins and crisps. Diamond uncorks a bottle of expensive wine and pours himself a glass.

  ‘Why did yer get
sodding Worcester Sauce crisps, Babyface? You thick or something? I said Barbeque didn’t I?’ groans Mad Jack Junior.

  ‘I thought it was Barbeque. The bags look the same, it’s not my fault,’ mumbles Babyface as he struggles to open a bottle of Sprite. Diamond recoils as Sprite sprays from the loosened top over the picnic and splashes his white shirt.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, what the ‘ell is wrong with you. You’re like a bleedin’ spastic sometimes. Pass those pickled gherkins before I bleedin’ pickle you.’

  ‘I don’t know why we even ‘ad to come to stupid Scotland anyway. I ‘ate foreign people and foreign food,’ moans Babyface. ‘I bet there’s no pie and mash shop ‘ere either.’

  He fidgets on the blanket next to Mad Jack.

  ‘What the ‘ells wrong with you two? Can’t you sit bloody still for five sodding minutes?’

  ‘I’m itching everywhere,’ says Babyface, scratching his neck.

  Diamond sighs. What the hell did he do wrong? He gave his boys everything and look at them now. This is what comes of spoiling. No bloody gratitude.

  ‘We’re ‘ere because ole Julian’s tart is ‘ere remember? And if she thinks she can get away with just paying me a monkey she can think again.’

  Mad Jack belches after drinking some Sprite and says,

  ‘I ‘ad Razor on the blower and he said it’s a put up job. The old dear with all the money ‘as given them an ult … ulta …well somethin’ anyway, or she gives all her money and stuff to some bloke who isn’t even family. I mean, that’s bang out of order ain’t it? You don’t give outside family right? So this ‘amilton’s got to prove he’s kosher by marrying a good ‘un and showing himself all good and proper to run the family firm. That’s what Razor said.’

  ‘She is a good ‘un,’ says Babyface, going doe eyed. ‘I really like ‘er.’

  ‘So be bloody grateful I’ve bought you ‘ere for an ‘oliday. I booked us into a nice B and B too. I want you lads to behave yourselves. No nicking from the old girl who owns it, you got that?’ says Diamond leaning forward to scratch his ankles.

  ‘Yes Dad,’ says Babyface, tucking into a pilchard sandwich.