Frosty Mornings at Castle Court

by Holly Hepburn

  Chapter Eight

  ‘There’s something different about you today.’

  Sadie kept her eyes fixed on the road on Tuesday morning, hoping Adam wouldn’t notice the heat creeping up her cheeks. She and Daniel had overslept, only waking up when Lissy came in and demanded to know why Daddy was sleeping in Mummy’s bed. As a result, the morning had been a flurry of disorganisation and Sadie wouldn’t have been surprised to discover she’d forgotten to put on a vital piece of clothing. The passionate kiss Daniel had given her just before she left had certainly left her feeling rattled.

  ‘Is there?’ she said, self-consciously touching her hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking up.

  ‘There is,’ Adam said, frowning thoughtfully. ‘You look . . . happier.’

  ‘Mummy finished icing all the biscuits for the big wedding,’ Lissy chimed in from the back seat. ‘Maybe that’s why she’s happy.’

  Adam stared at Sadie. ‘But I thought we finished those at the weekend.’

  Sadie grimaced. ‘We did and we didn’t. Not all of them were . . . erm . . . good enough to send out.’

  He didn’t speak for several seconds. ‘You mean mine, don’t you?’

  ‘No!’ Sadie insisted, unable to bear the dejection in his voice. ‘No, it wasn’t you . . .’ She took a deep breath, determined to stop him blaming himself. ‘I spelled the groom’s name wrong. I rushed them and didn’t pay attention when it mattered. My fault, not yours.’

  ‘You’re being kind,’ Adam said, looking out of the window. ‘You’re far too professional to make a mistake like that.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Sadie said, hoping she sounded convincing. ‘Believe me, I make mistakes just like everyone else. And this one was definitely down to me. But, as Lissy says, we noticed before the order went off and I fixed it last night.’

  He continued to stare out of the window. Sadie swallowed a sigh; the truth was, it had been Adam’s mistake, but what did that matter now? The day had been saved, after all. But she couldn’t say anything like that, so they drove for a few minutes, listening to the radio, until Sadie pulled up outside Lissy’s school.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, turning to beam at her daughter. ‘Time to go and be awesome.’

  ‘Adam is right, you’re all smiley,’ Lissy observed. ‘Is it because you and Daddy had a special cuddle last night?’

  Sadie thought she might spontaneously combust. She didn’t dare look at Adam. ‘Something like that. Come on, you’re going to be late.’

  Cheeks flaming, she fumbled with Lissy’s seat belt and hurried into the playground. By the time she returned to the car, she’d stopped blushing at least, although she suspected the embarrassment would never leave her.

  She started the engine. ‘Right,’ she said, trying not to wince at the determined brightness in her tone. She reached for the volume button on the radio. ‘Ooh, I love this song.’

  Adam made no response and kept his face averted. It wasn’t until the song had finished and the adverts had kicked in that he spoke. ‘So, you and Daniel, then.’

  Sadie hesitated, searching for a way to soften the news. ‘Yes,’ she said finally.

  He nodded and managed a smile. ‘Good for you.’

  She opened her mouth to say something – anything – and closed it again. What could she say, anyway? Plenty more fish in the sea?

  ‘Lissy seems pleased,’ Adam went on, staring down at his feet.

  Embarrassment crawled up Sadie’s spine once more. ‘She wasn’t this morning, when she tried to climb into bed and found someone else was already there.’

  ‘No, I can imagine.’ Now it was his turn to blush. He turned away again. ‘Well, you know what I mean.’

  The silence grew thick; it almost felt as though someone had built an invisible wall between them. Sadie concentrated on the traffic – a broken-down car was slowing everything to a crawl – and realised for the first time ever she couldn’t wait for the journey to be over.

  She glanced over at Adam and the stony set of his face made her want to cry. ‘I want you to know that if it wasn’t for Lissy . . .’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘You’re really great, Adam. I hope we can still be friends.’

  He puffed out his cheeks in a long sigh. ‘I won’t lie – there was a part of me that hoped you and Daniel were just going through the motions. But I can see now that I was wrong.’ He gave her a small, wistful smile. ‘I’m happy that you’re happy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sadie said.

  The traffic ahead eased and they spent the rest of the journey listening to the radio. When they arrived at the underground car park beneath Cat’s flat, Adam turned to Sadie.

  ‘There’s something I need to do. I’ll see you at the shop, okay?’

  She nodded and watched as he got out of the car and walked away. The last thing she’d wanted to do was to hurt him, but the truth was, she hadn’t really known what she wanted until Daniel had kissed her last night, and then the desire to be held and loved had swept everything else aside. She’d woken in the night, his arms wrapped around her, and wondered whether she’d made a mistake, but it was too late for regrets now. Lissy’s unexpected appearance had made sure of that.

  *

  Paris was grey and drizzly.

  Cat stared out of her hotel room window at the chic, tree-lined courtyard below, and not even the bubbling fountain could lift her mood. The Hotel St Marc was a beautiful art deco hotel tucked away behind Boulevard des Italiens and she was disappointed she couldn’t enjoy its charm more. But the thought of the meeting at Martin et Moreau was preying on her mind and dampening her enthusiasm for everything Paris had to offer.

  Simone Collignon, Cat’s lawyer, was waiting at her office. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said, kissing both of Cat’s cheeks. ‘Although I wish it was in better circumstances.’

  They went through the statements and the letter from François’ lawyers. Simone was convinced they would back down as soon as they saw the evidence Cat had collected.

  ‘But I suppose it depends what their aim is,’ she said, gathering everything up into a sturdy manila folder and slipping it into her briefcase. ‘François de Beauvoir likes to feel powerful – it could be he is simply trying to flex his muscles and remind you he exists.’

  Cat grimaced. ‘Believe me, I haven’t forgotten. I’m not sure I ever will.’

  Simone nodded. ‘I know. But it is important we address this today and remind him that you will not be bullied.’

  Martin et Moreau had their offices in the grand Place Vendôme. Cat tried not to feel intimidated as she sat in the ornate, high-ceilinged reception, watching the impassive face of the immaculately made-up receptionist as she tapped at her computer behind her desk.

  Please let this be the last time I have to come here, Cat thought fervently.

  At precisely eleven o’clock, the phone on the receptionist’s desk buzzed. She listened for a moment, then gave Cat and Simone a thin-lipped smile. ‘Monsieur Moreau is ready for you.’ She stood and waited for them to join her. ‘This way, please.’

  She led them to an oak-panelled door and knocked before ushering them inside. Cat swallowed hard as she stepped into the large, red-carpeted room. An unsmiling Pierre Moreau sat behind a vast mahogany desk, white-haired and austere. Beside him was François de Beauvoir, as sharp-suited and arrogant as Cat remembered, although she was almost amused to detect the first signs of middle-aged spread behind his expensive jacket.

  And just behind François, Cat saw Greg Valois. His lip curled into a sneer when he met her gaze and it was all she could do not to glare back. Instead, she dredged up a polite smile as Simone led her inside.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Simone said, extending her hand to each of them in turn. ‘I trust this meeting will not take up too much of my client’s valuable time.’

  Cat sat down without shaking their hands; the thought of touching François made her feel physically sick.

  Pierre Moreau turned a chilly gaze
towards her. ‘That rather depends on Mademoiselle Garcia. Is she willing to admit that she is in breach of the agreement she signed?’

  Simone smiled. ‘Come now, Pierre. My client has done nothing wrong.’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ Pierre said. ‘But first, can I offer either of you some refreshment?’

  Simone accepted a coffee, but Cat refused. Being in the same room as François was making her head spin, bringing back memories of the way he’d pressed himself against her in the deserted kitchen of La Perle, forcing her back against the hob, ignoring her furious demands to be let go. It was a scene she’d unwillingly replayed over and over in the days that followed and she dreaded to think what might have happened if one of the waitresses hadn’t appeared. It was a memory that still gave her nightmares.

  Pierre Moreau cleared his throat. ‘So, as you are aware, it is alleged that on the second day of December last year, Mademoiselle Garcia broke the terms of the non-disclosure agreement she signed. Specifically, she detailed her accusations against my client in the presence of a large crowd of people, thereby defaming his character.’ He paused and gazed directly at Cat. ‘This is a clear breach of her contract with Monsieur de Beauvoir and we intend to pursue her for the full financial penalty detailed in the contract, which, as you’ll be aware, is 750,000 euros.’

  Cat felt as though the floor had fallen away from her. She didn’t have anything like that amount of money.

  Breathe, she told herself as Simone gave her a brief reassuring look. Just breathe . . .

  ‘What is your basis for this allegation?’ Simone asked, her voice cool.

  Pierre waved a hand at Greg. ‘Monsieur Valois here owns a successful bistro in close proximity to Mademoiselle Garcia’s business. He was present when her comments were made.’

  Cat opened her mouth to speak, but Simone beat her to it. ‘As I understand it, Monsieur Valois was more than present – he was the instigator. My client was forced to defend herself after he attempted to discredit her professionally.’ She cast an oblique look at Greg. ‘I can only assume he was jealous of her exemplary career.’

  Greg let out a snort. ‘I can assure you that isn’t the case.’

  Pierre fired a warning look at him as he steepled his hands on the desk. ‘Whatever the circumstances, your client broke the terms of the contract and is therefore liable. I have a sworn witness statement from Monsieur Valois, who is a valued member of the honourable Freemen of Chester, that states the exact nature of Mademoiselle Garcia’s comments – I also possess an audio recording in which she clearly identified my client as the reason she left her job at La Perle and suggested he had acted improperly.’

  Cat had had enough. ‘That’s because he did act improperly,’ she fired at the lawyer.

  ‘I hardly think you’d have agreed to settle the case if there was any doubt that he was innocent.’

  She glanced at François and saw that a cruel smile was playing around his lips, making her wish she’d kept quiet; he was enjoying this, as though he was a cat and she was his mouse.

  ‘The facts of the original matter are not in dispute,’ Simone said firmly. ‘Let’s be clear – your client sexually harassed Mademoiselle Garcia at her workplace, which caused her to leave her job. The non-disclosure agreement was agreed by both parties and my client would not breach it unless there was extreme provocation, which is what Monsieur Valois intended, given that he has boasted about being a close friend of your client.’

  She reached into her briefcase and withdrew the manila folder.

  ‘This contains seven sworn statements from other business owners who were present when you allege my client breached the agreement. They all state that she did not name your client, nor did she infer that he was the person who harassed her. Furthermore, they detail the accusations Monsieur Valois made in order to make sure my client had to defend herself.’

  She placed the folder on the desk. Pierre opened it without a word and read each statement in turn, passing them onto François. He skimmed them and passed one onto Greg, eyebrows raised. Greg fired a darting look Cat’s way and she thought she caught a touch of panic in his eyes. Cherie’s, she decided. He wasn’t expecting to see her name.

  Pierre raised his head. ‘I’ll need to consult with my client but, to be honest, I see nothing here to change our course of action.’ He fixed Cat with an aloof look. ‘Be prepared to meet us in court, Mademoiselle Garcia.’

  Panic swirled up inside Cat. Her head began to spin. ‘But—’

  Simone gripped her arm in warning. ‘That is regrettable, gentlemen, but as you wish. Au revoir.’ She guided Cat towards the door, her fingers still applying light pressure, reminding her to stay silent. ‘It will not come to that,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t give François the satisfaction of seeing you afraid.’

  She was right, Cat decided, straightening up. But it didn’t matter how much Simone insisted that she would not have to face François in court, she couldn’t shake off the fear that she was about to lose everything.

  *

  Cat tried to ring Seb on her way to Charles de Gaulle airport but the call went straight to voicemail. He was the only person she could talk to, apart from Sadie, and the last thing she wanted was to worry her best friend. If François did take her to court and won, their joint business venture would almost certainly be ruined too. Thoughts of Lissy whirled around in Cat’s mind as she huddled into her window seat; Sadie had worked so hard to build Smart Cookies up and she’d sacrificed so much. How would she and Lissy cope if it was all taken away?

  She landed at Manchester to find a long email from Simone. Her lawyer was certain that François was trying to intimidate her. Pierre Moreau was no fool; he would know that if the case went to court, the risk of the details of the case being leaked became significantly higher. Even so, Cat still felt sick. She was sure she’d felt François watching her when Pierre had made his chilling final comment and she was willing to bet he’d enjoyed her visible shock. Simone had been right; he was trying to bully her. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be afraid.

  It was rush hour by the time she’d cleared passport control and found the taxi she’d booked to collect her, and the roads out of Manchester were all snarled up. She tried Seb during the journey back to Chester, but again the call went to voicemail. Frowning, she sent him a message asking him to call her. When she was finally back within the safety of her own home, Cat double-locked the front door and showered until the water ran cold. Then she went to bed, expecting to lie awake fretting, but the stresses of the day had clearly exhausted her more than she realised. She was asleep within minutes.

  Chapter Nine

  Cat woke up early on Valentine’s Day and lay for a few minutes trying to summon the courage to get out of bed. For the first time ever, she was reluctant to go to Castle Court, and even the thought of baking couldn’t soothe her troubled spirits.

  Glancing at her phone, she saw she had a missed call from Seb, timed at eleven-thirty the night before. Maybe she’d drop in to see him on her way to Smart Cookies; he’d know how to make her feel better.

  It was still dark as she made her way along the Rows. Eastgate Street was silent; the pavement glistened with silvery frost and her breath billowed into clouds of steam as she turned down the covered alleyway that led to the Court. Instead of crossing beneath the branches of the oak tree, she took the stairs that led up to the attic rooms and knocked on Seb’s door as loudly as she dared.

  After the fourth knock, she started to suspect he wasn’t there. He was a heavy sleeper, especially if he’d had a couple of drinks, but there was no hint of movement inside. She was about to give up when she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and his sleep-crumpled face peered out at her.

  ‘Cat!’ he said, his eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’

  He stepped back to let her in and she saw he was weari
ng a pair of boxers and nothing else. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll make the tea. You must be freezing.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ he said wryly. ‘Give me a minute, okay?’

  He vanished into the bedroom and Cat heard rustling as he got dressed. She busied herself with the kettle and had two steaming cups of tea waiting by the time he returned.

  ‘You do realise it’s not even six o’clock yet, right?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But I wanted to see you. Happy Valentine’s Day.’

  He walked across to drop a kiss on her lips. ‘Of course. Sorry I missed your call yesterday – it was crazy busy in the bar. Truth be told, I’ve got a bit of a hangover.’

  Cat hid a smile – that explained his sheepish air. ‘It’s fine – I came back and fell straight into bed anyway.’

  He studied her for a moment. ‘So, how did it go?’

  She sighed, her smile ebbing away. ‘It was awful.’

  Seb scowled once she’d finished her description of the meeting. ‘I swear I’m going to unleash hell the next time I see Greg. I’m sure he was behind the paint vandalism and now this – what’s his problem?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Cat said. ‘Only that he’s as thick as thieves with François.’

  ‘But your lawyer isn’t worried? She’s confident it’s all talk?’

  ‘She’s convinced it’s all a power game for François,’ Cat admitted. ‘But I still don’t understand what Greg is getting out of it. He must know by now that even Cherie has turned against him.’

  ‘Want me to ask him?’ Seb growled. ‘I’m sure Earl and Jaren would enjoy a heart-to-heart with him too.’

  Cat shook her head. ‘Don’t give him any more ammunition. Simone says I have to sit tight and forget about it – easier said than done.’

  Seb put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. ‘Want to stay here tonight? It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.’

  At least that way she’d have something to look forward to, Cat decided; Seb was excellent at taking her mind off things. ‘Okay – I’ll head to the bar just before closing time.’