Sinful Truths

by Anne Mather

  Jake heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t want to get into this.’

  ‘Why not?’ Shane stared at him. ‘Hey, you don’t think you could have made a mistake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘’Cos you could always find out,’ continued Shane blandly. ‘DNA tests are pretty foolproof—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ said Jake harshly. He had no intention of discussing Isobel’s affair with Shane. ‘Drop it, will you?’

  ‘So…’ Shane hesitated. ‘How did she get home?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Emily, of course. Did you take her?’

  ‘What if I did?’

  ‘I’m only asking.’ Shane lifted a hand in a gesture of defeat. ‘How is the lovely Mrs McCabe anyway?’

  ‘Soon to be ex,’ retorted Jake grimly. Then, less aggressively, ‘She’s okay. I think.’

  ‘You think?’ Shane seemed to know he was pushing his luck, but he and Jake had been friends too long to allow this affair to spoil their relationship. ‘Why the proviso?’

  ‘Because—’ Jake broke off and then went on reluctantly, ‘She has a lot on her plate at the moment.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Her mother’s very ill,’ said Jake, taking another gulp of his coffee. ‘And she wants to go back to the so-called family seat to die.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Shane nodded. ‘She’s a Lady, isn’t she?’

  Jake grimaced. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. But, yes, she’s Lady Hannah Lacey. Isobel was born and brought up at their country house, Mattingley, in Yorkshire.’

  ‘Cool.’

  Shane looked impressed, but Jake was quick to correct him. ‘Not cool,’ he said. ‘The house is practically derelict. Belle’s father died when she was sixteen and the death duties were fairly crippling. When we got married I think they were finding it a struggle to make ends meet, and soon after that the old girl closed up the house and spent most of her time at the flat the old man had kept in Bayswater. Since then she’s managed to keep the roof leak-free and little else.’

  ‘And this is where she wants to spend her last days?’

  Jake nodded. ‘And Belle intends to go with her.’

  ‘No kidding!’ Shane stared at him. ‘Are you going to let her?’

  ‘I can’t stop her.’

  Jake spoke impatiently, but inside he wasn’t so blasé. Dammit, Isobel was still his wife, and he didn’t like to think of her and Emily stuck in some draughty old pile on the Yorkshire moors. Sure, the scenery was magnificent, and Lady Hannah still commanded some respect in the village. But it was fairly early in the year yet. Unless he missed his guess the place would be cold and damp. Living at Mattingley in its present state wouldn’t be a pleasure; it would be an ordeal.

  Shane shrugged. ‘Well, you know your own business best, pal,’ he remarked wryly. ‘And I guess Marcie wouldn’t appreciate you getting involved in Isobel’s affairs.’

  ‘Marcie has nothing to do with it,’ snarled Jake, aware that he was being far too vehement in Isobel’s defence. Dammit, Shane was right. Marcie wouldn’t approve. But the truth was that was partly why he’d spent such a crappy weekend. This wasn’t just about Marcie. It was about the unwelcome curl of heat he felt in the pit of his stomach every time he thought of Isobel.

  And, after what she’d done, how sensible was that?

  Isobel arrived home on Wednesday evening feeling as if the whole weight of the world was bearing down on her shoulders. Her mother was due to leave hospital in a couple of days and she expected Isobel to have already made preliminary arrangements to leave for Yorkshire at the end of the week.

  Which was almost impossible.

  Apart from anything else Isobel had yet to speak to Emily’s head teacher. And, with the Easter holidays still a recent memory, she was hardly likely to look too kindly on Isobel’s taking her daughter out of school again, for what could be an indefinite period.

  Her own situation wasn’t much better. Mr Latimer, at the agency, had warned her that he couldn’t keep her job open indefinitely either. He was willing to give her a month’s leave of absence, but after that he was making no promises. It would depend how efficient her temporary replacement was.

  She had spoken to the Edwardses, but that had not been a reassuring call. Mrs Edwards was more than willing to welcome ‘her ladyship’ back to Mattingley, but she had warned Isobel that it had been a very damp spring and that they should bring their own bedding with them.

  ‘I’ll air the mattresses, Mrs McCabe,’ she’d promised, ‘but I wouldn’t like to say what the linens are like after all this time.’

  ‘That’s all right, Mrs Edwards.’ Isobel had intended to pack sheets and towels in any case. ‘But if you could light a few fires and ask Mr Edwards to get the boiler working, I’d be grateful.’

  The old housekeeper had promised to do her best but, as Jake had pointed out, the Edwardses were old, and there was only so much they could do.

  What Mattingley needed was complete renovation and redecoration, but that was not likely to happen any time soon. Indeed, Isobel knew that when her mother died the old house would have to be sold. Any improvements would be the responsibility of the new buyers, whoever they might be.

  She was making herself a sandwich in lieu of dinner when the phone rang.

  She guessed it was probably her friend Sarah. Emily had gone home with the Danielses after school. Sarah’s eldest daughter was just a year older than Emily, and not half so provocative. The two girls were good friends, however. Following in their parents’ footsteps, Sarah always said.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, picking up the receiver.

  She suddenly felt a twinge of apprehension in her stomach when Jake said, ‘Hi. It’s me.’

  ‘Jake?’ She managed to sound sufficiently doubtful, and he grunted.

  ‘Yeah.’ He paused. ‘How are you? How’s Lady Hannah?’

  Isobel licked her dry lips. Like you care, she thought wearily. ‘Um—she’s okay,’ she said, which was a ridiculous response in the circumstances. ‘She—er—she’s coming out of hospital on Friday.’

  ‘Is she?’ Jake sounded thoughtful. ‘So—what then? Are you planning to travel up to Yorkshire at the weekend?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Isobel didn’t want to think that far ahead. ‘If I can get things organised.’

  ‘What things?’

  Isobel almost gasped. ‘What’s it to you?’ she exclaimed, her stress levels rising by the minute. When he’d left the apartment nearly a week ago she’d been sure she wouldn’t hear from him again. Except perhaps through his solicitor. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to see her—or Emily—again.

  There was silence for a minute, and she thought she’d finally gone too far. But then he said flatly, ‘And how do you plan on getting up to Yorkshire? You don’t have a car.’

  ‘I can always hire one,’ retorted Isobel, wincing at the thought of more expense. But she knew it was a source of annoyance to Jake that she’d sold her little runabout last year. It had been just one more luxury she and Emily had had to forego to ensure that her mother got the operation she’d needed. ‘Was that why you rang?’

  Despite the effort it was taking, the coolness of her voice must have got through to him, because she heard his sudden irritated intake of breath. ‘No,’ he said evenly, spacing his words. ‘It occurred to me that if you were planning on moving to Mattingley you might be grateful for the use of the Range Rover. It’s bigger than a car, and you’ll have plenty of room for luggage.’

  ‘Oh.’ Isobel was immediately contrite. It was kind of him to consider the practicalities of them leaving London, even if she couldn’t prevent the thought that there’d be no chance of Emily embarrassing him again if they moved to Yorkshire. ‘Well—I don’t—’

  ‘Think about it,’ Jake advised drily. ‘Unless you plan on hiring or buying a car for the duration of your stay. Mattingley is pretty remote. And somehow I can’t see your mother using a bus.’

  Iso
bel couldn’t either. Always providing she was well enough to get around, she appended with a pang. And taxis were expensive. She hadn’t even thought about how they were going to get to the hospital, for instance. There were ambulances, of course, but they were for emergencies, and Lady Hannah—

  ‘Think about it,’ said Jake again, when she didn’t answer. ‘If you decide to take me up on it give me a ring on this number. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper?’

  He waited until she’d found the necessary implements and then dictated a number, which she realised at once must be his cellphone. She wondered if he’d given her that number to avoid a possible confrontation with his girlfriend. She didn’t know if Marcie was living at his house, but she would obviously spend a lot of her time there.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, when he was done, and there was a pregnant silence before he spoke again.

  Then, with a brief ‘Yeah’ he rang off, and she was left holding the phone and feeling hopelessly confused.

  Ironically, her mother had no reservations.

  ‘Of course you must borrow the car,’ she exclaimed, when Isobel broached the subject with her the next morning. ‘What’s one car more or less to Jake McCabe? If he needed it, he wouldn’t have offered it. Don’t be a fool, girl. It’ll be far more comfortable than some hire car. And there’ll be plenty of room for my things.’

  Not to mention her and Emily’s things, too, thought Isobel wryly, knowing her mother would never think of that. But then, Lady Hannah had always been rather impractical when it came to practical matters, and since her illness she’d come to depend more and more on her daughter.

  Still, with the decision made for her Isobel was quite relieved to be able to ring Jake and tell him they’d be pleased to accept his offer. He agreed to get the car to her on Saturday morning, but he was in a meeting and their conversation had to be brief and not very satisfactory from Isobel’s point of view. She had wanted to ask him about insurance and handling, but she supposed she could ask whoever delivered the car on Saturday morning. Besides, knowing Jake, she was sure he’d have covered every eventuality.

  Emily was excited at the prospect of spending the coming summer at Mattingley. And it had diverted her from thoughts of her father. But she didn’t remember the place at all, having only paid fleeting visits there when she was much younger. In consequence, Isobel was prepared for her to be disappointed—although the idea of being out of school for several weeks would probably prove some compensation.

  The school had been remarkably understanding of Isobel’s position. Arrangements had been made to forward homework for Emily to do while she was away, with a reciprocal set-up for marking should her absence be prolonged. And, although Isobel didn’t like to think of it, it was the only sensible arrangement in the circumstances. No one knew—or wanted to anticipate—how long they might be away.

  Lady Hannah was released from the hospital on Friday afternoon, and although it would have been easier to bring the old lady to Eaton Crescent, the absence of a lift made that impractical. In consequence, Isobel did all her own packing on Friday morning and then she and Emily spent the night at Lady Hannah’s service flat.

  She didn’t know what time Jake would send the car on Saturday morning so, leaving Emily with her grandmother, she left straight after giving the old lady her breakfast.

  She’d only had time for a cup of coffee before leaving, and she told herself that was why she experienced such a feeling of dizziness when she walked along the crescent to number twenty-three and saw Jake leaning against the bonnet of the dark green Range Rover that was parked outside the apartment building. Dear God, she’d never expected him to deliver the car himself.

  She was immediately conscious of the fact that she hadn’t put on any make-up before leaving her mother’s flat, and she was still wearing the lime-green shirt and navy trouser suit she’d worn to work the day before. She looked far too formal for the occasion—a situation that was enhanced by Jake’s worn jeans and open-necked chambray shirt. His jeans were tight, and bleached in places she shouldn’t have noticed. But when had she ever looked at him without remembering the lean, sensual body beneath his clothes?

  ‘Hi,’ he said, when she was near enough to speak to. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d made other arrangements.’

  Isobel expelled the breath she’d scarcely been aware she was holding. ‘I—no.’ She halted as he pushed himself away from the bonnet. ‘Mama came out of hospital yesterday afternoon, so we spent the night with her at the flat. It gave me the chance to do the rest of her packing. You don’t realise how much there is to do until you start.’

  Jake nodded. ‘But you’ve done it now?’

  ‘All but,’ she said, gesturing towards the steps up to the house. ‘Um—d’you want to come in?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She was supremely aware of him following her up the steps and into the house, of his lithe athletic body mounting the stairs to the first floor in her wake. She managed to find her key without too much effort and pushed it into the lock, leaving the door for him to close as she hastened down the hall.

  The hall itself was an obstacle course—plastic bags containing sheets and pillowcases and towels jostling half a dozen canvas bags that held most of her and Emily’s wardrobe. There was a box containing Emily’s computer, and several games for her to play, as well as CDs for her portable player and reading books. Isobel had tried to think of everything, but she was sure Emily would come up with something she’d forgotten.

  ‘I guess you’re planning on leaving right away,’ said Jake, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen, and Isobel nodded.

  ‘Pretty much.’ She hesitated. ‘The doctor seemed to think that if she insists on making this journey, the sooner it’s accomplished the better.’

  ‘Sounds reasonable.’ Jake pushed his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans. ‘It’s just as well I came prepared.’

  Isobel’s jaw dropped. ‘I—prepared for what?’

  ‘To drive you up to Yorkshire,’ replied Jake easily. ‘I thought you might welcome a helping hand at the other end.’

  Isobel gasped. ‘You didn’t say anything about accompanying us.’

  ‘No.’ He was honest. ‘I guess I knew what kind of a response I’d get.’

  ‘But you said I could borrow the car,’ she persisted, aware that he didn’t have the slightest notion of her reaction. ‘I thought—’

  ‘It’s yours, as long as you want it,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m not planning on staying. Well, overnight, maybe, but I can always book into a hotel. Then I’ll take the shuttle back to London from the airport at either Teesside or Leeds.’

  Isobel shook her head. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Being so—so nice,’ she muttered, gazing at him with wary eyes, and he pulled a wry face.

  ‘Hey, I was always nice,’ he said, apparently choosing to avoid any further embarrassment. ‘Now, do I get a cup of coffee for my trouble? You do the necessary and I’ll start loading this stuff into the Rover.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS after six o’clock when they reached the village of West Woodcroft.

  The small hamlet lay in a wooded valley to the west of the moor road between Whitby and Guisborough and, despite its isolation, it still attracted quite a number of visitors in the tourist season.

  That was principally because it was one of the prettiest villages in this part of the country, with a tumbling stream bisecting its main street. In summer, the gardens of the cottages that faced one another across the stream were bright with flowers and at this time of the year there were still tulips and daffodils nodding in the breeze. The village also boasted a couple of pubs and a tearoom, which provided their guests with traditional country fare, and an old Norman church that dated from the twelfth century.

  Mattingley lay on the outskirts of the village. Isobel had once told Jake that the estate had contracted a lot over the years, so that now it compri
sed little more than a dozen acres of arable land, with the gardens around the house left more or less untended. Mr Edwards did his best, she’d said, but the Edwardses were old and in no state to undertake any serious restoration of the property. Even if Lady Hannah could have afforded it, which clearly she couldn’t.

  It had been a fairly uneventful journey. Jake had expected Isobel’s mother to kick up a fuss when she’d found he was accompanying them, but she’d proved unusually amenable. Perhaps she’d realised that there might be problems when they reached their destination, he reflected wryly. It was certainly true that he could accomplish more than a child and two women, one of whom was virtually helpless.

  At least Lady Hannah had slept for most of the journey, which had been a mercy. Emily, sitting beside her in the back, had been forced to say little for fear of disturbing her grandmother, and Jake had had some time to organise his thoughts.

  Not that he was any clearer as to why he had chosen to come all this way. Marcie, with whom he’d negotiated a fragile truce, had thought he was mad to jeopardise their relationship by associating with his wife. And even when he’d explained again that Isobel’s mother was dying, she’d shown little sympathy for his situation. It was only when he’d added that this would give him ample time to tell Isobel that he wanted a divorce that she’d reluctantly given in.

  Isobel, for her part, had maintained a polite silence for most of the trip, sitting beside him in the front seat of the Range Rover. He had thought she might take the opportunity to find out more about his future plans, but he should have known better. Either she was burying her head in the sand, or she really didn’t care what he did. Whatever, she seemed perfectly willing to allow him to make all the running, and that irritated him a lot.

  Yet he had to admit that when he looked at his wife irritation wasn’t the first emotion that occurred to him. With her night-dark hair pulled back into a severe knot at her nape, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the purity of her profile which, in the present situation, looked particularly vulnerable.