Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Brice had better be there,’ she mumbles sidestepping something on the ground. ‘Fuck,’ she cries. ‘What the hell was that?’

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘Shit, I don’t know but it moved bloody fast. Jesus Harry, do we have to do this? These sodding midges are eating me to death, bloody vampire things, and God knows what that was at my feet.’

  I look down and spot Diamond wandering towards the rose garden.

  ‘It was Diamond,’ I say, feeling an ache in my shoulders.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ she says a look of horror on her face. ‘Where is he, can you see him? Oh shit Harry, what if he jumps out and cuts off our ears?’

  I sigh.

  ‘Diamond the cat Fiona, not Jack bleeding Diamond.’

  She groans and lowers her shoulders.

  ‘You might have said.’

  ‘Can you just stop moaning and keep walking,’ I snap.

  ‘I’m doing you a favour you know, so don’t snap at me. Anyway, you don’t know what kind of creepy-crawlies they have out here do you?’

  ‘It’s Scotland, not the bleeding jungle.’

  ‘All the same.’

  ‘Do you want me to go backwards?’ I offer.

  ‘It won’t matter if I’m going forwards or backwards, I’m still not going to be happy.’

  ‘I’m thinking you’ll be happier if you know where you’re going and what you’re doing.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing and I’m not happy about it at all.’

  I sigh. The sooner we dump this thing the better.

  ‘But on reflection, yes I think I’d prefer to go forwards. That way you can walk into Jack Diamond if he jumps out on us,’ she says.

  ‘I wish you’d said this when we had the light from the house. Okay, start turning clockwise,’ I say.

  ‘Your clockwise or my clockwise?’

  I stare at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, if you’re thinking clockwise your way I need to go anti-clockwise and vice versa if you meant the other way round.’

  Bleeding hell, it’s two in the morning and she wants to play mind games.

  ‘I’ll go clockwise and you follow me, right?’ I hiss, wishing my foot would stop throbbing.

  ‘No need to get huffy. I’m just trying to help.’

  ‘Yes, well it would have been more helpful if you had mentioned this earlier. Right are you ready to turn?’

  At that moment we are bathed in light and Fiona squeals and drops her end of the carpet with a thud. She really has to be the worst partner in crime anyone ever had. I squint against the light and see Cedric in the shadows. God almighty, what is he doing up at this time of night?

  ‘Jesus,’ Fiona groans.

  ‘Good evening madam, may I be of assistance?’

  ‘Fuck me Cedric, are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ I say feeling the perspiration trickle between my breasts.

  ‘I rather think trying to carry that …’

  ‘Oh God,’ Fiona moans.

  ‘Carpet,’ I say.

  ‘Yes madam. I rather think trying to carry a heavy carpet in the dead of night might possibly give you a heart attack. It certainly won’t help your foot.’

  It’s knocking pounds off me that’s for sure. I lower my end carefully and try to breathe normally.

  ‘Madam, may I enquire why you would be removing a carpet in the dead of night?’

  Fiona stifles a little cry.

  ‘We’re not stealing it,’ she says.

  ‘The truth is Cedric, we have something inside it that we need to dump in the loch.’

  Fiona gasps.

  ‘Harry, what are you saying?’

  ‘Who’s out there?’ Emily appears in the doorway in her nightie.

  Oh for pity’s sake. Why don’t we just blow the hunting horn and get everyone out here.

  ‘Miss Harriet and Miss Fiona are disposing of something in a carpet,’ says Cedric in a matter-of-fact voice.

  ‘Don’t you lot sleep?’ I ask, stifling a yawn.

  ‘Not when people are banging and shuffling around next to the servants’ quarters,’ replies Cedric.

  ‘Do you need a torch?’ asks Emily.

  Sweet Jesus, why don’t they just play some wee bagpipes and dance the Highland fling while they’re at it.

  ‘Emily could help carry my end,’ suggests Fiona. ‘It is bloody heavy and I think my arms may fall off before I make it to the loch.’

  The carpet sags heavily in the middle and even I have to agree it feels heavier by the second.

  ‘Okay,’ says Emily, jumping forward and tying her shawl around her shoulders.

  ‘I’ll lift the middle and we can get this over and done with, and we can all return to our beds,’ says Cedric.

  I nod in agreement. After all, what else can I do? Cedric counts to three and we all lift the carpet together.

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s heavy. Have you got a body in here?’ quips Emily.

  Fiona’s eyes meet mine and I quickly turn away.

  ‘Language please Emily,’ admonishes Cedric.

  ‘Can you please keep your voices down? We don’t want someone calling the police,’ I say.

  ‘Good God no,’ groans Fiona.

  Cedric is quite right however, and we reach the jetty in no time and without incident. Brice and Angus widen their eyes at the sight of the four of us.

  ‘Good evening Mr Brice,’ says Cedric. ‘Do you require this on the boat?’

  ‘Indeed, well done Cedric. Of course it goes without saying doesn’t it that this will all be forgotten by the morning.’

  ‘It’s already forgotten sir, isn’t that right Emily?’

  Emily’s cheeks glow in the moonlight. This is probably the most excitement she has had in years.

  ‘Oh yes, of course sir,’ she smiles.

  Angus and Brice haul the carpet onto the boat and lower it gently. Fiona and I stand panting while Cedric and Emily look at us.

  ‘Thank you Cedric, that’s all I think,’ I say looking at Brice.

  He nods.

  ‘That’s fabulous guys,’ he says, as though hauling a rolled up carpet onto a boat in the dead of night happens every day. Cedric gives a nod and takes Emily’s hand.

  ‘Well, goodnight sir, madam,’ says Cedric.

  We watch them walk away and as soon as they are out of sight Fiona groans.

  ‘I really cannot believe we are doing this. Do you think Jack Diamond is out there?’

  ‘I think it very likely he is,’ smiles Brice.

  I sincerely hope so otherwise this has all been a waste of time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘What we gonna do about it?’ asks Mad Jack Junior as he kicks the trunk of a tree.

  ‘I’m not sure. But you don’t tell yer mum nothing, not yet anyway.’

  Mad Jack stares in disbelief.

  ‘But we’ve got to tell her that they shot Babyface and dumped …’ he falters.

  ‘We can’t get emotional, it ain’t professional,’ snaps Diamond, staring at the loch.

  Their plan to rob the place had certainly gone tits up. He’d thought they would come here, find Babyface outside the house and nick some of the good stuff. But there was no sign of Babyface. The truth is they have no proof that Babyface Jack’s body was rolled up in the carpet but what else could it have been? You’re not going to dump a rolled up carpet in the early hours of the morning are you, not unless there is something fishy inside it? He really underestimated that Harriet all right. Julian is a weak wanker but bleedin’ hell, she is something else altogether.

  ‘What we gonna do then?’ Mad Jack asks again, giving the tree another kick.

  ‘I need to think about it,’ replies Diamond.

  The truth is the whole thing has shaken him up more than he wants to admit. He’d seen a few things in his time and was convinced Babyface had not been badly injured. He’d never have left him otherwise. In fact, he had expected him to come limping back to the B&B later th
at night. When he hadn’t they had crept back to the house to try and get an idea of what was going on but apart from seeing Harriet sneak into Stalker Lodge everything was quiet. At first he had thought that perhaps they had taken him to hospital but there was no record of him there.

  ‘Think about bleedin’ what?’ asks Mad Jack angrily.

  Diamond glares at his son.

  ‘Do yer really think I’m going to let them kill Babyface and dump him in the loch? What kind of father do you take me for?’ snaps Diamond.

  ‘I dunno,’ mumbles Mad Jack.

  ‘It all depends whether it was business or personal,’ says Diamond thoughtfully.

  Mad Jack kicks the tree again.

  ‘Will you leave that bleedin’ tree alone?’

  ‘It’s personal ain’t it, I mean that’s obvious. He was your son, that’s personal ain’t it?’

  ‘Yeah but we killed ‘arriet’s goldfish and that weren’t personal.’

  Mad Jack Junior gapes at his dad.

  ‘Babyface is a bit different to a goldfish.’

  Diamond shrugs.

  ‘I know that and you know that but,’ he widens his hands expressively. ‘It was her goldfish, so it was personal to her.’

  Mad Jack shakes his head.

  ‘I don’t believe this. We’re comparing Babyface to a bleedin’ goldfish. Somethin’ ain’t right ‘ere,’ he mumbles. ‘We didn’t dump the stupid goldfish in a loch though did we?’

  Jack exhales.

  ‘It don’t matter what we did with the goldfish. Okay, it just don’t matter. We might have to accept a life for a life, right?’

  ‘Babyface’s life for a goldfish? I don’t believe I’m ‘earing this.’

  Diamond bites his lip.

  ‘But then again, maybe you’re right. They should perhaps pay for what they’ve done.’

  Mad Jack jumps up and down in excitement.

  ‘Yeah that’s more like it. Get some dosh out of the buggers.’

  Diamond scratches his head. Yeah, maybe Mad Jack is right. They could make a little packet out of all this and all because old Harriet got it all wrong. Maybe she did them a favour. Shame Babyface got whacked in the process. Still, business is business. You can’t let emotions get in the way.

  ‘Let’s go back and get the plan in motion,’ says Diamond.

  Mad Jack nods happily.

  ‘Yeah, let’s sort the bastards.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘I don’t know what you’re up to,’ Hamilton had hissed over breakfast. ‘But you’d better be careful. If you put one foot wrong now I’m warning you, you’ll never work again. You’ll end up homeless.’

  ‘Why Ham, you say the nicest things,’ I had responded, only to receive a piercing glare from him. Melanie was bustling around giving the servants orders while Margarita took to her room for a nap. Fiona had gone riding with Sebastian and no one had batted an eyelid.

  And then Alistair turns up. He bursts into my room, eyes blazing and cheeks red.

  ‘Harriet, I g-g-g got an earlier flight. I thought I’d surprise Fiona.’

  Oh she’ll be surprised all right.

  ‘She thought you were coming this evening.’

  ‘W-w-w- …’

  ‘I said, she thought you were coming this evening.’

  He takes a deep breath.

  ‘I’m not deaf,’ he says, dropping his suitcase onto the bed.

  ‘Shall I get Cedric to show you to her room?’ I say. I don’t want him making himself too comfortable in mine

  ‘W-w-w- …’

  Oh he doesn’t give up does he?

  ‘She’s out riding,’ I say.

  ‘Nothing new then,’ he says dismissively, looking around my room. ‘W-w-what happened to your f-f-f-f- …’

  ‘Flat? I say helpfully, ‘I think it’s still there. I’ve been paying the rent. I don’t think Diamond wants to burn that down.’

  ‘F-f-f-f- …’

  Yes fuck, I know exactly what he’s going through.

  ‘Foot,’ he blurts out.

  ‘Oh that,’ I smile. ‘I kind of fell out of a boat.’

  He nods knowingly, like falling out of boats is what you do when you live this kind of life.

  ‘I say, this is grand isn’t it? I bet you’re enjoying being Hamilton’s b-b-b-b- …’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Bitch?’ I say questioningly.

  Well, let’s be honest that’s how Hamilton views me.

  ‘Bride to be,’ he finishes.

  I pull a face. He has no idea. There is a knock at the door and before I can answer, Hamilton has strolled in. What a bloody cheek.

  ‘Do come in,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘Hello darling. Alistair old man, how are you? The servants told me you were here.’

  How bleeding pompous is that?

  ‘What, all of them at once?’ I say putting on a shocked expression. ‘Blimey that’s bleeding amazing.’

  ‘Watch your language Harriet,’ Hamilton barks.

  I storm out of my room and leave them to it. At the top of the stairs I hear the sound of a woman’s voice.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous Cedric. He can’t be upstairs with his fiancée. I am marrying Hamilton.’

  Her voice is soft, cultured, and terribly posh. I feel my stomach churn. Who the bleeding hell is this? I turn back and hurry to my room. Hamilton and Alistair start at my entrance.

  ‘It is my room,’ I say irritably, ‘and by the way, there is a woman downstairs saying she is your fiancée.’

  ‘My fiancée?’ says Alistair knitting his brows together.

  ‘No not you Alistair, Hamilton’s fiancée.’

  ‘But you’re Hamilton’s fiancée.’

  I roll my eyes.

  ‘Oh Good heavens, what is she doing here?’ says Hamilton looking anxiously around the room.

  ‘I don’t have a panic room if that’s what you’re looking for,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘Christ, are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘Believe me if there was one I would have been in it days ago.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure she is my fiancée?’ he asks crossly.

  ‘No I’m not sure. She’s bleeding sure though. Don’t you know if you have a fiancée?’ I snap.

  ‘Harriet language.’

  ‘Piss off Hamilton.’

  ‘C-c-c-can I do anything?’ stammers Alistair.

  ‘Like what exactly?’ I say.

  He shrugs helplessly.

  ‘Oh God, why did Phoebe have to turn up now?’ groans Hamilton.

  Phoebe? Who the hell is Phoebe? We all leave the bedroom together and I’m grateful no one is around to see that. It looks like I’ve just had a threesome. The fact that someone may think I’ve had a threesome doesn’t bother me so much, but a threesome with Alistair and Hamilton would be dead embarrassing. I feel nauseous at the thought of it and push it from my mind. I reluctantly sit on the stairlift and begin my descent. What a ridiculous entrance this is. She looks up at me and I meet her eyes. She’s very beautiful, I mean, seriously beautiful in a celebrity kind of way, whereas I’m kind of pretty in a very non-celebrity kind of way, if you catch my drift. The way people are arriving at the moment I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt turned up. She wears a green Armani suit which flatters her trim body perfectly. I know it’s Armani because I recognise it as one Marcus wanted to dress me in. Her make-up is immaculate and she is far more Hamilton’s type than I could ever be. This is Phoebe, a friend of the family, I hear myself introduce her to Caron and Gary. The thought of Caron and Gary, and my parents, makes me feel sick. What will this woman make of Gary with his shaved head and neck tattoos, and Caron with her pineapple-style hair. Talk about opposite ends of the fashion spectrum. I don’t want my parents ridiculed and they really won’t fit in. I don’t bleeding fit in, so I know they won’t.

  ‘Hamilton honey, what the hell is going on?’ she says in a high-pitched voice that echoes in the h
all. She turns her head to me and nods, ‘who is that?’

  ‘I sent you a text, several in fact. Why didn’t you respond?’ Hamilton hisses.

  The stairlift comes to a juddering halt and I slide off and lean on my crutches for support.

  ‘What texts darling? You know I’ve been in New York. I don’t use my Blackberry when I’m there. I flew straight here and that stupid butler tells me you have a fiancée. You really should get better staff.’

  ‘Cedric is excellent,’ I say, trying to hide my London accent. She gives me a scathing look and eyes me up and down in a disdainful manner. I don’t know why she’s giving me such a snotty stare, I’m wearing leggings and the baggy woollen jumper that Marcus had found for me, it’s designer. Don’t ask me which designer mind you.

  ‘Christ Phoebe, I’d wish you’d seen the bloody texts,’ snaps Hamilton.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asks pointedly.

  ‘Hello, I’m Harriet,’ I say, extending a hand and ignoring Hamilton’s filthy look.

  ‘Who’s arrived?’ calls Margarita from the library. ‘Is that Harriet’s sister?’

  She wheels herself into the long hall and stops abruptly on seeing Phoebe. She is wearing a glorious multi-coloured silk robe which hangs to her perfectly manicured bare feet.

  ‘Hamilton, explain yourself,’ she barks.

  ‘Phoebe is here for the party Grandma. She came to wish us well, isn’t that right Phoebe? Let me show you to your room.’

  ‘Hello Mrs Lancaster, how are you?’ asks Phoebe.

  ‘I’ve been better,’ she says sharply.

  ‘What do you mean my room, I’ll be with you Hamilton,’ Phoebe says looking flustered.

  ‘Let me get some tea,’ he says, hastily dragging her away.

  ‘And who are you young man?’ demands Margarita of Alistair.

  ‘Oh, I’m F-F-F- …’

  She continues to stare at him.

  ‘F-Fiona’s boyfriend, I g-g-g-got an earlier f-f-f-flight.’

  ‘Do you have a stutter?’

  Good God, what an obvious question to ask.

  ‘Yes, I have actually.’

  ‘Yes I noticed. Can’t you get that fixed?’

  ‘Well, n-n-n- …’

  ‘Are you trying to say No?’