‘I’m sorry about the sweater,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘You can’t take it back now you’ve worn it, but I’ll buy another and you can choose it yourself.’ She’d have given him a factory-full, to appease her guilt.
He laughed. ‘Nonsense, I was an ungrateful brute, and I’m sorry. The sweater’s fine, but I must say, this is the best present yet!’
And he started to kiss her again.
When he eventually fell asleep, she prepared to endure the long hours of darkness, her mind a whirlpool. What would Angus think of her, behaving like that, let alone compromising him with Sophie? And what of Sophie herself? She’d certainly never speak to her again! Sophie, who was her best friend, who had stood by her so often when she was in trouble: what a way to repay her! But, oh God, please don’t let either of them tell Roger! Don’t let them tell anybody!
Why had she clung to Angus like that? Yes, she’d always liked him – even fancied him a little – but that wasn’t the reason. It was just that he was kind and understanding, and there, just when she needed reassurance. And anyway, she remembered with a little shiver, he had kissed her back; did that make it better or worse?
What should she do? Apologize to them both, or pretend it had never happened?
And having reached that unresolved point, Imogen unexpectedly fell asleep.
Neither Anna nor Sophie had slept well, and both were heavy-eyed at breakfast.
‘Can we pretend last night never happened?’ Anna asked with a wry smile, pouring coffee.
‘I wish we could.’
‘I’m sure things will work out. Perhaps Imogen was upset – you know how emotional she can be – and he was just . . . comforting her?’
Sophie frowned, remembering. ‘I think there was something on the floor,’ she said. ‘A mess of some sort, and a broken bowl.’
‘There you are, then!’
‘Ma, what I saw went way beyond comforting.’
Anna sighed. ‘And about Lewis . . .’
Sophie tensed, and Anna leaned forward, reaching for her hand. ‘Darling, it sounds trite, but no one will ever replace Daddy. I know this happened too soon – I’m ashamed that it has – but it might be the only chance I have of not spending the rest of my life alone.’
‘You’re not alone!’ Sophie said fiercely.
‘You know what I mean. Believe me, I’d have given anything to delay this for a year or so.’
‘When were you going to tell us?’
‘Certainly not before Daddy’s anniversary. But another reason for not saying anything is that I didn’t know what to say. There’s no guarantee anything will come of it; it might all have fizzled out by Christmas, in which case it would have been pointless to upset you.’
‘But you want it to go on?’
Anna shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know, Sophie. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.’
‘Is he serious?’
‘Again, I don’t know.’
‘Has he mentioned marriage?’
Anna smiled. ‘Talk about role reversal! No, he hasn’t, but I’ve rather cut him off any time he hints at the future.’ She paused. ‘Will you tell Jonathan?’
‘Would you rather I didn’t?’
‘I leave it to you. I wouldn’t want him to find out later that you knew.’
Sophie nodded, stirring her coffee. ‘Has . . . Lewis . . . got family?’
‘Yes, a son, a daughter and an ex-wife.’
‘Has he said anything to them?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I did ask him to keep it between the two of us.’
Sophie glanced at her watch and stood up. ‘I don’t know why I’m quizzing you; I’ve worries enough of my own, not the least being I feel ridiculous eating breakfast in a cocktail dress. It’s time I was going; I’ve things to prepare for Tamsin and Florence’s arrival.’ She paused. ‘How about coming for the weekend? I know you want to see Tamsin, and your being there would help smooth things between Angus and me.’
‘Mightn’t it get in the way of your sorting it out?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Please come. Unless, of course . . .?’
‘Lewis? No, I’d already told him I’m not free this weekend. But won’t Florence be in the guest room?’
‘She’s using the futon in Tamsin’s room. In time for tomorrow’s lunch, then?’
‘If you’re sure,’ Anna capitulated.
After she’d gone, Anna phoned Beatrice. ‘Just wondering how you’re getting on. Is the cast off?’
‘It is indeed, thank heaven. I still have to be careful, though.’
‘Are you able to drive?’
‘Yes, but the automatic’s a bonus. Why? Do you want us to set off for Monte Carlo?’
Anna laughed. ‘Not quite. But I was wondering if you’re free to come and spend the day with me? I’m in need of wise counsel.’
‘Love, I can’t. We’ve a Bowling Club Dinner this evening, and it’s all systems go. Can the counsel be dispensed over the phone?’
‘Not really, it’s too complicated.’
‘Tomorrow, then?’
‘I can’t, Bea; I’m spending the weekend with Sophie and Angus. Tamsin’s home for half-term.’
‘That’ll be fun. Give her my love.’ She paused. ‘How urgent is this need for counselling?’
‘I suppose it’ll keep.’
‘How long will you be at Sophie’s?’
‘Till Monday morning, I should think.’
‘Then come straight on here. Monday’s a quiet day, thank God.’
‘Thanks, Bea; that’ll be great.’
‘Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to rely on your worry beads! Must go – the butcher’s at the door. See you!’ And she rang off.
Anna had no sooner replaced the phone, than it began to ring.
‘Have you still got company?’ asked a clipped voice.
‘Oh, Lewis, hello! No, she’s just gone. I’m so sorry about all that! It was the most appalling timing!’
‘Indeed it was, though I should be the one to apologize, for having compromised home ground. Much safer to stick to London.’ He paused. ‘Did she explain why she arrived out of the blue?’
‘A row with her husband. She came looking for comfort, poor darling, and got more than she bargained for. I can understand her reaction, but that doesn’t excuse it, and I know she’d want me to apologize.’
‘At least the invitation won’t come as a surprise, if you allow me to send it.’ He paused, and when she made no comment, added, ‘Did she calm down later?’
‘A bit. She wants me to spend the weekend with them, to see Tamsin.’
‘Then you’ll have a more enjoyable time than I shall; it seems I’ll be entertaining the police for at least part of it.’
‘Oh dear! Have they still not found the killer?’
‘Presumably not, but there’s been a development, they tell me, unspecified over the phone. Whatever it is, it necessitates further interviewing. Think of me, when you’re reading bedtime stories.’
Anna smiled. ‘We’re a little past that, but I’ll certainly be thinking of you.’
‘And I of you, my love. I’ll be in touch.’
Sophie was still answering neither her mobile nor the landline, and Angus had no idea whether or not she’d returned home. He couldn’t believe she’d stay away, especially with half-term upon them – but suppose she did? Suppose she met Tamsin and Florence, as arranged, and spirited them off somewhere?
He shrugged away the thought, telling himself he was being ridiculous, but it lingered at the back of his mind, and it wasn’t until he arrived home at six thirty to find lights on that he was able to dispel it.
He’d also agonized over whether or not to take flowers, but such a cliché of sexual misdemeanour seemed best avoided. Accordingly, he was empty-handed when, heart in mouth, he let himself into the house.
‘Dad!’ Tamsin came running down the hall and into his arms, nearly knocking him over with the exuberance of her embrac
e.
‘Hi, sweetie! Good to have you home!’ His eyes moved to the girl behind her. ‘And this must be Florence?’
‘Yes, she’s in my dorm.’ Tamsin turned. ‘Florence, meet my dad.’
The girl came shyly forward. ‘Hello, Mr Craig.’
‘Hello, Florence, and welcome! It’s good to have you here.’ He glanced down the empty hall. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘In the kitchen. Dad, Florence has her own horse!’
‘Lucky girl!’ Angus said non-committally and, with a smile at both of them, made his way towards the closed door.
Sophie was at the sink peeling potatoes and did not turn as he came in. He went over to her, put his arms round her, and kissed the back of her neck, feeling her quiver.
‘I missed you,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. Darling, you must have realized it wasn’t what it looked like.’
‘There didn’t seem much room for misunderstanding.’
Belatedly, he wondered if she’d spoken to Imogen. Unlikely, he felt. Any attempts to reach her from that quarter would have been met with the same stone wall he’d encountered.
‘Did you go to your mother?’
‘Yes. Standard procedure in the circumstances.’
‘Sophie—’
She raised her voice to talk over him. ‘She’s coming for the weekend, by the way. She wants to see Tamsin.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘We need to talk,’ he said miserably.
‘Indeed we do, but now is not the time. I’m preparing dinner, and the girls might come in at any minute. So could you make yourself useful by checking the radiator in the dining room and bringing me a G&T?’
‘Of course.’
An armed truce, then. He supposed, resignedly, it was all he could expect.
So this, thought Maddy Peel, was the famous Mandelyns Foxfield.
She had turned off the main road and driven up a long, winding drive bordered by trees in their autumn colours of crimson and gold. As she rounded a bend, a deer ran across the road in front of her, causing her to jam on the brakes. How the other half live! she thought.
The main building was Georgian, its ambience that of a country house. Now, having been weighed and measured, and filled in a medical questionnaire, she was standing in her bedroom, looking in awe at the thick, springy carpet, the ivory-coloured furniture, the gold-plated fittings in the en suite. Luxury indeed!
Since the purpose of her visit wasn’t weight loss, there were thankfully no diet restrictions, though alcohol was restricted to a glass of wine at dinner.
‘The dress code for dinner is smart casual,’ she’d been told, ‘but during the day, most people wear the towelling robes provided. No point in having to keep dressing and undressing between massages, saunas, and so on.’
So here she was, and after the week she’d had, she could murder a vodka and tonic. Ah well, she wasn’t here to enjoy herself – or at least, not only to enjoy herself. People who had stayed here – perhaps in this very room – had subsequently died, and it was as well to remember that.
With a suppressed shiver, she started to unpack her case.
Saturday morning. Jonathan stretched luxuriously. The sound of the television from below indicated that his sons were up and about. In a few minutes he’d get up himself and bring Vicky breakfast in bed. But there was no hurry. He turned over, pulling the pillow into his neck, and was closing his eyes when a tentative voice came from the doorway.
‘Are you awake, Daddy?’
‘No,’ said Jonathan firmly.
There was a giggle, a patter of bare feet, and, reluctantly opening his eyes, he observed his elder son, hair tousled and clad in pyjamas, standing hopefully beside him.
‘Go away, Tom. It’s still early.’
‘Can I have my pocket money?’
Jonathan groaned. ‘Not now, for heaven’s sake! You’re not even dressed, and the shops aren’t open yet.’
‘But I want to see how much I have.’
‘Well, you know how much I’ll be giving you and how much you’ve got already. Just add them together. You can do sums, can’t you?’
‘Not that sum,’ Tom said. ‘I want it in my hand, then I’ll know if I can buy another dinosaur.’
‘Look, I’ll be getting up soon. Go down and watch CBeebies with Tim.’
‘Please, Daddy!’
Jonathan sighed. ‘All right, bring me my wallet. It’s on the chest of drawers.’
As Tom reached up for it, he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position, trying not to disturb Vicky, who’d resolutely kept her eyes closed throughout this exchange.
‘What’s this, Daddy?’
On his way back to the bed, Tom had flipped the wallet open and pulled something from one of the slots.
‘Hey, you don’t qualify for any notes! Put—’ Jonathan broke off, a wave of heat sluicing over him. Because it was not a note Tom had extracted, but a white plastic card. A key card. For a wild moment, he thought he was going to vomit.
Then Vicky was saying calmly, ‘That’s Daddy’s room key from the Manchester hotel. He must have forgotten to hand it in when he left.’
‘It doesn’t look like a key,’ Tom said doubtfully.
‘Give it to me.’ Jonathan almost snatched it from his son’s hand. ‘And the wallet.’
Tom, abashed, handed it over, and, avoiding his eyes, Jonathan unzipped the coin section and extracted a fifty-pence piece.
‘Satisfied? Now, go downstairs and play with your brother.’
‘Thank you, Daddy,’ Tom said meekly, and trotted out of the room.
There was a brief silence. Then Vicky said, ‘It wasn’t your room key, was it?’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘God, I’d forgotten all about it. If anyone had found that on me . . .’
Vicky slid her arm round him. ‘And just who would be likely to do that? Other, that is, from your family?’
‘What the hell am I going to do with it, Vic? I can’t send it back. The police must know it’s missing; they’ll assume the killer has it!’
‘Then they’ll be wrong, won’t they? As to what to do with it, you’re going to cut it into very small pieces and drop it in the bin bag. Now, are you going to make me a cup of tea, or what?’
At breakfast, Maddy avoided the pleasant-looking girl she’d normally have joined and instead approached a table where a blonde woman in her fifties was already seated.
She paused with her tray. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’
The woman looked faintly surprised. ‘No, feel free.’
Maddy unloaded her orange juice, muesli and yogurt, smiling determinedly. ‘I’m Maddy, by the way.’
‘Good morning, Maddy. I’m Gina.’
‘This is great, isn’t it?’
Gina smiled. ‘Your first visit?’
‘Yes – a treat from my boyfriend.’
‘The right kind of boyfriend to have!’
‘Have you been before?’
‘Oh yes, I’m a regular. My firm sends all its executives to Mandelyns at least once a year, to help us unwind.’
‘The right kind of firm to work for!’
Gina laughed. ‘Touché. Have you booked any treatments yet?’
‘A massage at ten and a facial at eleven thirty.’
‘Good start.’
‘Actually, I’m rather at a loss what to go for – what they all do, I mean.’
Gina sipped her herbal tea. ‘Well, you can ignore the rejuvenating ones!’
Maddy’s heart flipped. Was it going to be this easy? ‘Which are they?’
‘Their names are pretty explicit. Jeunesse, Shangri La, Persephone . . .’
‘Someone told me there was a new one everyone was raving about.’
‘There are always new ones. That’s what keeps us coming back.’
‘But this one was special. It’s supposed to have spectacular results.’
‘Aren’t they all?’ Gina d
rawled.
Better not to pursue the subject, Maddy decided; she mustn’t appear too interested. ‘I’ll have to have another look at the brochure,’ she said.
Angus had taken the girls swimming, and Sophie was alone in the house, preparing a beef casserole for that evening. With her husband temporarily out of the way, her thoughts had reverted to her mother and the extraordinary revelations of Thursday evening.
Normally, she’d have talked this over with Angus, anxious for his level-headed opinion to help her put it in perspective. But she was in no mood for favouring Angus with confidences, and, since she was desperate to discuss it with someone, Jonathan was her obvious choice. In fact, she decided suddenly, she’d phone him now, before they went out for the day.
It was Vicky who answered. ‘Oh, Sophie, how are you? Has the migraine gone? I tried phoning several times, but couldn’t get through. Did you get my messages?’
Expecting them to have been Angus trying to reach her, Sophie hadn’t replayed them. Migraine? Must have been his explanation for her departure. ‘I’m fine now, thanks. Is Jonathan around, by any chance?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll get him for you.’
A minute. Then: ‘Hi, sis. Head OK?’
‘Yes, thanks. Look, Jon, can you talk for a minute?’
‘That sounds serious.’
‘It is, quite.’
‘Hang on, I’ll take this to the study.’ There was a pause, then: ‘OK, shoot. What’s up?’
Not having planned how to break the news, Sophie came straight out with it. ‘Ma’s got a boyfriend.’
There was a stunned silence. Then: ‘Say again?’
‘Ma’s got a boyfriend. I’ve just found out. She met him on holiday.’
‘But – but that can’t be right! I mean, she and Dad – God, it’s not a year yet!’
‘I know. She’s consumed with guilt.’
‘But who the hell is he?’
‘Lewis Master or Masters or something.’
A faint bell chimed in Jonathan’s memory, but Sophie was hurrying on.
‘I . . . called in on Thursday on my way home, to see if she’d any Ibuprofen. And – he was there. They were both shattered to see me, I can tell you.’
‘I bet! What’s he like?’
‘What does it matter what he’s like?’ Sophie snapped. ‘He exists; isn’t that enough?’
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