Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Ah Harriet, there you are,’ cries Margarita, clicking open a Filofax.

  Crikey, I thought those things went out with car phones.

  ‘I’ve drawn up a list of guests for the party next weekend. Your parents will be back from St Martha’s Vineyard won’t they?’

  Yes, I feel quite certain they will be. After all, their vineyard is only five minutes up the road and is known as Threshers, but I’m not going to tell Margarita that am I?

  ‘I think so,’ I say hesitantly.

  I see a cafeteria on the sideboard and walk over to it.

  ‘What are you doing dear?’ asks Melanie.

  I stop as Cedric approaches me.

  ‘Can I get you croissants and coffee Miss Harriet?’ he asks, gesturing to a chair. ‘Or would madam prefer kippers, or perhaps porridge, or eggs benedict with toast?’

  Blimey, breakfast is fast becoming a three course meal.

  ‘Just a croissant and coffee please,’ I say.

  I reluctantly return to the table. Thank goodness Brice isn’t here to make his usual cutting remarks.

  ‘Can you give me your guest list by this evening?’ demands Margarita.

  Fiona fidgets with some egg on her plate. I look pleadingly at Hamilton, although I’m not sure why the hell I bother. He just shrugs.

  ‘Actually, it will only be Fiona and her partner, and of course my parents,’ I say, biting into a croissant and showering crumbs down my top.

  ‘What about your friends?’ asks Margarita. ‘You surely have friends you wish to ask?’

  I lift my eyes to Hamilton.

  ‘All Harry’s friends are in New York, and we were thinking we’d do something there a bit later, isn’t that right honey?’ he says.

  Thank God. Why does it always take the bugger so long to help me out?

  ‘Yes,’ I mumble.

  ‘We were discussing it only last night weren’t we?’ he rambles on. ‘Everyone being so busy and everything and what with it being a bit last minute and well, we thought just family would be nice,’ he says sounding like a complete moron.

  ‘Yes, just family,’ I repeat, sounding even more moronic than him.

  I feel all eyes on me.

  ‘Oh,’ says Margarita slamming closed the Filofax. ‘That won’t take much organising will it? Don’t you have work colleagues here, or old university friends? You surely have brothers and sisters? What about your grandparents?’

  Heavens, talk about a cross examination. Can I use my fifty-fifty, or call a friend?

  ‘Grandmother is in a home, and she rarely ventures out, and my other grandparents are dead …’

  ‘Who’s going to be your maid of honour, and what about the bridesmaids?’ she snaps.

  I’m actually hoping there won’t be a bride, let alone bridesmaids.

  ‘Her sister …’ Hamilton begins. He stops at my piercing glare.

  What is he saying? Caron and Gary can’t come here. Caron with her purple pineapple hair and him with his shaved head and tattoos, it will be like Big Fat Gypsy Wedding meets Downton Abbey. He’ll be swigging a Becks from the bottle and she’ll be knocking back white wine spritzers. It’s bad enough that my mum has to come. She will no doubt ask for her port and lemon, and my dad is bound to dunk his bread in the soup. He’s done that for years so they’ll be no stopping him. It’s too painful to think about. I’ve only got four days to prime them. I’m never going to knock forty years of habit out of them in four days am I? It would be easier to kill them all. God Harriet, what are you thinking of? This is what comes of owing money. It makes you consider matricide and patricide. And if you include my sister and her boyfriend it is more like genocide. This situation is turning into my personal hell. Hamilton returns my look with a grimace. I know he’s paying me a hell of a lot of money but does he have to make me work so bloody hard to earn it?

  ‘She’s surely coming then?’ says Margarita while Melanie and Sebastian continue to eat their eggs benedict in an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘Of course, of course, that goes without saying,’ says Hamilton.

  Margarita opens the Filofax and at that moment the door swings open and Brice glides in with an air of confidence. He looks so sexy and appealing that I have to avert my eyes.

  ‘Ah Brice, we’re just discussing the guest list for the engagement party at the weekend. Who will you be bringing?’

  Yes, who will you be bringing I think, pricking up my ears.

  ‘Why do I have to be bringing anyone? Can’t I come alone?’ he grins at his grandmother.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I just thought there might be a special someone you might wish to invite.’

  Yes, surely there is someone special isn’t there? How can he be so handsome, confident and sexy and there not be someone special in his life? I hate the bitch whoever she is.

  ‘No just me, but if you’re really insistent on it I’m sure I could drag someone along. Why don’t you be my date old girl, and give Lionel a rest that night.’

  There is no earthly way this guy is available. It’s not possible. Oh God, don’t tell me he’s bleeding gay, that would so be my luck wouldn’t it? He leans over me to the toast rack and I inhale the fresh smell of him. Margarita looks at the list she’s just written and sighs.

  ‘I suppose we’d better invite the Major and of course Lady Sophie Henderson. What about your mother, do you think she’ll make some kind of effort to get here for her nephew’s engagement party?’ she asks Brice, pushing the jam towards him which sadly stops him leaning over me.

  ‘I doubt it, after all it’s a ridiculously long way to come for a party,’ he replies, accepting a cup of coffee from Cedric.

  ‘A ridiculously long way to come and visit her dying mother too, it would seem.’

  ‘You look perfectly okay to me,’ he grins, ‘but we should take your blood pressure before you go on the stalk.’

  She waves her hand dismissively.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she says.

  ‘I’m still going to take it.’

  She looks down to her Filofax but I detect a little smile on her lips.

  ‘Right, that’s the guest list organised. Jeremy is coming this afternoon to clean the ring ready for the weekend and I’ve contacted Grayson’s to do the catering …’

  ‘Oh,’ says Hamilton lifting his hand. We wait expectantly while he finishes chewing his kipper. To think I am supposed to be marrying this creep.

  ‘Grayson’s are the best,’ says Margarita in a tone that clearly indicates she has no intention of debating it.

  ‘It’s just, well,’ struggles Hamilton.

  ‘It’s just well what?’ I snap, surprising myself.

  He glares at me and says ‘It’s just Grayson’s are rather pricey Grandma.’

  ‘Exactly. Why do you think they’re the best, boy?’

  Melanie stands up, wobbles and leans on my chair for support.

  ‘Are you alright?’ I ask, jumping up to steady her.

  ‘Just a migraine. I’ll retire to my room I think,’ she says softly.

  ‘Can I bring you something? Would you like a hot drink and some painkillers?’

  I feel Margarita’s eyes on me and Hamilton taps me lightly on the arm.

  ‘Emily will see to anything Mother needs, but I’m sure Mother is grateful for the offer,’ he says sternly.

  I pull my arm away and I see Fiona cringe.

  ‘I’ll help your mother to her room,’ I say sharply, leading Melanie gently towards the door.

  ‘I’ll send Emily up,’ he says.

  ‘We won’t need Emily,’ I say firmly.

  Melanie looks about to faint and I’m not sure if it’s the migraine or the fact that I am escorting her to her room. Once there she falls onto her bed and I look around in awe. This isn’t a bedroom it’s a full-size apartment. I run the cold tap and soak a towel under it. She accepts it gratefully and takes a painkiller.

  ‘Margarita will be cross I’m not with the family for the stalk,’ she says
anxiously.

  I wonder if this is a real migraine, or if she also is making an excuse to get out of the thing. I would invite her on the boat trip but it seems a shame to share Brice doesn’t it? I pull the curtains and quietly leave the room. I look over the bannister to see everyone heading out. Fiona sees me and rushes up the stairs.

  ‘Aren’t you coming on the stalk?’ she asks.

  I shake my head. ‘Not unless you’re stalking Jack Diamond.’

  She pulls a face.

  ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t texted about the fifty pounds. He must have noticed by now.’

  That’s all I need. A silent Jack Diamond is much worse than a chatty Jack Diamond. She hands me her phone and dashes down the stairs.

  ‘If Alistair calls, tell him I’m out stalking stags. Just so he knows he isn’t the only one having fun.’

  Fun? Christ, she has a warped idea of fun. She skips down the stairs waving a hand at me and almost collides with a sour-faced Hamilton on his way up.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles. ‘No contacts.’

  ‘What are you doing? I thought you were coming on the stalk,’ he hisses.

  I step back as his kipper breath suffocates me. God, he really needs to do something about that halitosis.

  ‘I’m not the stalking type,’ I retort.

  ‘I couldn’t give a shit. What does it look like you going off with Brice in the boat? You’re making a bloody fool out of me.’

  That’s a joke. He doesn’t need my help to make a fool of himself.

  ‘He said your grandmother wouldn’t fall for a migraine. He told her the truth, I’m not a stalking person and neither is he so he offered to take me out on the boat, and besides I really think you should back me up more. You know how I hate lying.’

  He huffs.

  ‘This business is one big lie, or hadn’t you noticed? Anyway, I’m not sure you should go with Brice, it doesn’t look good on me.’

  ‘I don’t want to go,’ I say, lying through my teeth.

  ‘Just watch what you say,’ he snaps before storming off.

  I click my heels.

  ‘Yes sir,’ I retort primly.

  Bloody hell, what a Nazi. I watch the hunting party from the landing window as they pack their weapons into the back of the stalker’s Range Rover. What a relief to be free from them for a few hours. To my surprise I see Margarita not only out of her wheelchair, but leading a horse. Well I never. I hope I’m that fit when I’m three months from dying.

  ‘I’m leaving in ten minutes,’ says Brice behind me. I spin round to face him and something clutches tightly at my belly. He is composed and carrying his coffee cup.

  ‘Meet me on the jetty, you can’t miss it.’

  I nod mutely and watch him stroll out of the house. I frantically think of what I can wear. I fly back upstairs and throw everything from the wardrobe onto the bed. There is absolutely nothing I feel comfortable wearing. I finally rummage through my suitcase and pull out one of my woollen sweaters and throw it over a silk shirt, and then don my jeans and boots and pull my Boho poncho over everything. I grab my handbag and force myself to walk to the loch as calmly as I can. In the distance I can see him loading things into the little rowing boat. I try to imagine my parents up here. I will have to keep a constant check on Mum otherwise she will be getting out the hoover or clearing everyone’s dishes to do the washing up. It really does not bear thinking about. It’s hard enough keeping up this farce without them here. And what the hell is wrong with Hamilton? This isn’t at all what we agreed. It was only supposed to be a bleeding weekend. Before I know where I am I’ll be bloody marrying the wet dishcloth. Yes, that’s about right. I’ll find myself at the altar and Mum will be handing around cheese and pineapple sticks to all and sundry. They’re her favourites, that and port and lemon. I’ll have to jump on Margarita’s horse like The Runaway Bride. I seriously cannot believe I have let things go this far. And now I’m about to step into a boat with Mr Drop Dead Gorgeous and I don’t like to say I can’t swim. I’ve always meant to learn and I have tried a few times but I just can’t manage to get that other foot off the bottom of the pool. Do you know what I mean? I kind of skip along the pool from one end to the other and make it look good but if anyone so much as attempts to get that other foot off the bottom, I’m flapping away like a bloody penguin. I only hope this bleeding boat is safe. Didn’t they mention a boat at dinner the other night, and if I remember both Hamilton and the Major were not very complimentary. Maybe I’ll end up drowning. I suppose that will save Jack Diamond from chopping me into little pieces. My heart lurches at the thought of Diamond. Fiona is quite right. It is very odd of Diamond not to mention the missing fifty quid. He must have read my note. What if he is planning something terrible, something to take me totally by surprise? They will probably zoom up to us in the middle of the loch and board the boat like Somali pirates, and hold us at gunpoint until I pay the fifty quid. They always seem to know my next move. My blood turns cold. Jesus, how can I get in the boat now? Brice turns and the intensity of his stare is almost mesmerising. He looks at me in amazement as I drag my hair back and tie it with a band.

  ‘You look completely different with your hair like that,’ he says, gently smoothing back a loose strand that has escaped.

  I shiver under his touch. I step gingerly onto the jetty. It seems to dip under my weight and doesn’t feel very safe. I climb into the boat and send it reeling to one side and almost fall out. My legs give way and I fall onto the narrow bench and grasp it for all I’m worth. I must look a right plonker. Brice stares at me with a little smirk on his face.

  ‘Is it safe?’ I ask, trying to hide my anxiety.

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he says, untying the rope from the mooring.

  ‘It’s just Hamilton and Major Bates said …’

  He laughs and leans over me to push a basket to the back of the boat.

  ‘They meant my rickety boat in Laos. Now that isn’t safe,’ he smiles.

  ‘Why do you have a boat in Laos?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s more of a floating clinic. I go up and down the Mekong River and give medical help to those who can’t afford to travel to a hospital. I find it rewarding.’

  I so much want to ask him about his life in Laos but of course I daren’t. I might end up telling him my dreams, which hardly match up to that of a successful businesswoman with her own jewellery business.

  ‘Don’t you have life jackets?’ I ask, looking under the seat.

  ‘We’re only going across the loch,’ he says with a tinge of amusement in his voice. ‘Although I brought my rope and tackle in case you fancied a bit,’ he says licking his lips, and then not missing a beat adds, ‘of fishing that is.’

  I feel my face grow hot. Is he flirting with me? Has he forgotten I am supposed to be his cousin’s fiancée? It occurs to me that I actually don’t have to stay for the weekend. I could book a flight to Mexico, or is it Brazil? Didn’t a train robber go to Brazil? I could do that. Hamilton would never find me. I needn’t pay back the debts and I could sun myself on the beach and get a job in a beach bar. But I won’t do that because I’m too damn honest. The cold wind whips me in the face and I huddle beneath my poncho and lift my eyes to take a sneaky look at him. He has on a thick woollen jumper and beneath I can see signs of a grey shirt. His jeans are tight and I can barely take my eyes off his lean thighs. His beautiful eyes meet mine and I find myself blinking rapidly. He pushes the boat out using an oar and I grip the sides and try to stop my knees from trembling. The sun shimmers on the loch and I relax. The muscles in his biceps seem to ripple with the water as he pulls the oars. This is all playing havoc with my navel, and a few other places. He stares at me as he rows.

  ‘You’re staring at me,’ I say. ‘It’s very unnerving and not to mention bloody rude.’

  ‘That’s because you’re extremely attractive,’ he says in a matter- of-fact tone that leaves me quite speechless.

  I can’t even find the words to thank him. H
e stops rowing and casually leans back. I feel myself tense.

  ‘You don’t like boats do you? Either that, or it’s the water you’re not fond of.’

  ‘I’m fine with both as long as they don’t get too intimate with each other.’

  He laughs and I marvel at his sparkling white teeth.

  ‘The only water we’ll have in this boat is this,’ he says, reaching behind me. One hand slides sensually and deliberately, I am sure, over one of my knees. He returns with a bottle of Evian water and two plastic cups.

  ‘Sorry it’s nothing stronger. I thought we could have the wine later.’

  I could do with it now as I need something to calm the stirring in my loins. I’m finding his warmth and friendliness disconcerting. It’s like he is trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then he’ll turn on me. I need to keep my wits about me. I’m struggling to keep my eyes off him, he is enthralling. His voice fascinates me. It is so smooth and soft. His eyes are worldly and his body lean and muscular. He is so self-possessed and animal sexuality oozes from him. I swear he could have any woman he wanted, so why doesn’t there seem to be one? I wish my pulse would slow down. He continues rowing and points things out in the hills surrounding the loch but apart from that we are silent. The gentle rhythmic movements of the boat make me quite sleepy.

  ‘You don’t seem Hamilton’s type,’ he says abruptly.

  You’ve got that one right. I snap my eyes open to see him sitting opposite me, his questioning eyes meeting mine. I struggle not to flinch. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down. The sky is darkening and threatening rain. I take my scarf from my bag and wrap it around my neck.