by Sk Quinn
For a moment we all stare at each other, a little awkward.
Then Patrick says, ‘Mr Harper. You were saying before how much you enjoy fishing. Grey enjoys fishing too.’
‘Fishing, shooting, setting traps. All sorts of hunting really,’ says Grey. ‘As a matter of fact, I caught the grouse we’re going to eat tonight.’
‘Did you really?’ says Dad, leaning forward. ‘Where? In the woodlands around here?’
Grey nods. ‘The Mansfield woods are excellent for hunting.’
‘I’d be happy to take you out sometime, Mr Harper,’ says Patrick. ‘Perhaps the three of us can make a hunting party.’
‘Oh, I don’t really know anything about hunting,’ says Dad. ‘I just like the idea of it I suppose. Like most men.’
‘There’s not much to it,’ Patrick insists. ‘Grey and I would be happy to show you the ropes.’
‘He’s right,’ says Grey, taking a swig of champagne. ‘If I can do it, anyone can.’
‘I’ll go hunting,’ says Danny. ‘I’d love to shoot something.’
‘Have you ever hunted before?’ Grey asks.
‘No. But I’ve fired a gun,’ Danny grins.
Oh lord.
I’m just about to snap at Danny, when a shadow falls over the doorway.
73
We all turn.
‘Well, well, well,’ says Regan Thornburn. ‘So the new fella in the kitchen wasn’t lying after all. Here you are having a fancy family dinner. And you forgot to invite half the family.’ He looks at Dad. ‘I’m the brother-in-law. In case Patrick and Grey forgot to mention it. And this here is my wife.’
He thrusts Anise forwards, and she stumbles into the room.
She’s looking really thin, I notice. Her cheeks are hollow and her face pale. But she’s still pretty, with her blonde hair swinging around her shoulders.
Danny murmurs, ‘So this is the sister.’
He’s staring at Anise with that look he gets sometimes. He calls it the ‘thunderbolt’ – a line he got from the Godfather. It means he’s really got the hots for her.
Regan sees him looking. His eyes harden. ‘Watch where you’re looking, sunshine. I don’t like you undressing my wife with your eyes.’
‘No harm in looking,’ says Danny, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig of champagne.
Oh no.
‘I’m going to ram that glass down your throat,’ says Regan.
‘Try it,’ says Danny, sitting bolt upright, his voice dangerous.
Beside him, Patrick goes rigid.
I notice Grey sit up straighter too, although he’s pretending to look casual.
Regan looks from Danny to Patrick, then to Grey. ‘Me? Try something at a nice family dinner? I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, we came up here to join you. Isn’t that right? Anise here tells me that it’s a family tradition to welcome all castle guests to the table.’
‘That it is,’ says Patrick, his jaw hard.
‘And I see there are places set,’ says Regan, gesturing to the plates. ‘So we must be welcome too. Come on wife. Park your backside over there.’
Anise gingerly takes a seat near Vicky.
Regan slings his body into the seat between the two women and pours himself a generous measure of champagne.
I notice he doesn’t pour any for Anise.
‘A toast,’ he says. ‘To family.’ He holds his glass in the air, but no one joins him. Then he downs his champagne and slaps the glass on the table. ‘More,’ he shouts at Louise.
Louise looks to Patrick.
Patrick gives a curt nod, so she refills Regan’s glass.
‘Well, well, well, isn’t this nice?’ says Regan. ‘All the family together. Except for my brothers, of course. But don’t worry. They’re on their way up.’
Oh no.
Patrick looks furious. ‘It’s lucky for you, Regan, that tradition welcomes you to this table. Because believe me, I’d take great pleasure in throwing you out.’
‘And your sister too?’ Regan asks.
‘I’d never throw Anise out,’ says Patrick. ‘She knows that. She’ll always be my sister. No matter who cons her into marrying them.’
‘I didn’t con anyone,’ says Regan. ‘She wanted to marry me.’
‘Where’s Bertie?’ Anise asks me quietly.
‘He went to bed already,’ I tell her. ‘Daphne took him up. Hopefully he’ll be asleep by now. But we could go check on him. Would you like to do that?’
‘I would,’ says Anise, standing.
‘Wait!’ Regan holds a hand up. ‘Anise, sit yourself down.’
‘But—’
‘Sit down,’ Regan roars.
Patrick grips a fork so hard I think he might snap it in two. ‘You want to watch your manners at this table Regan,’ he says. ‘Because tradition or no tradition, even I have my limits. Louise. Clear the rest of the plates away please. And serve the first course.’
74
The first course is a whole side of salmon, poached in butter and lemon. There are side dishes of roast, mashed and new potatoes, beetroot and spring greens.
It’s an enormous course – big enough to be a meal in itself.
‘Crikey,’ says Dad. ‘This really is a feast, isn’t it?’
‘Wait until you see the main,’ says Vicky.
‘So.’ Regan waves a fork at my father. ‘You’re Seraphina’s Dad, right?’
‘That’s right,’ says Dad, glancing at Patrick.
‘So tell us about Seraphina then,’ says Regan, forking a pile of roast potatoes onto his plate. ‘Has she always been so pretty?’
Patrick slams the handle of his knife hard against the table.
‘What?’ Regan asks. ‘She is pretty. Prettier than this one.’ He throws a thumb at Anise. ‘She’s getting plainer by the day.’
‘Oh I wouldn’t say that,’ says Danny.
Regan piles more food onto his plate. ‘If I could swap Anise for Seraphina I would. Any day of the week.’
Anise stares intently at her plate.
‘Mind you, Anise’s Dad does own half a castle.’ He throws back his head and laughs. ‘Wait. Owned, I should say. Because now it’s mine.’
‘Ours,’ says Anise quietly.
‘What was that?’ says Regan.
‘Nothing,’ says Anise.
‘More wine mate?’ Danny tops up Regan’s glass.
I try to catch Danny’s eye. What is he up to?
Regan looks surprised. ‘Yeah all right. Why not?’
Danny pours him a generous measure. ‘People are a lot more fun when they’ve had a few drinks, don’t you reckon? A lot more honest.’
Danny winks at me.
I give him a little shake of my head, willing him not to start any trouble.
75
When our plates are finished, the half-eaten salmon is taken away. Then we’re treated to the main course: roast grouse, pheasant and partridge, with roast vegetable chips, cauliflower cheese, sprouts with bacon and mini haggises.
‘I think I’m going to like having you as a brother-in-law,’ Danny tells Patrick. ‘You really know how to eat.’
Danny tops up Regan’s glass. ‘So. What are we then, Regan? Relative-wise? You married Patrick’s sister. So what does that make us?’
Uh oh.
To anyone else, this might look like an innocent question. But I know my brother. He’s fishing. Looking to start some trouble.
‘Dunno mate,’ says Regan, shrugging his shoulders. He really is pretty drunk now. His eyes are all out of focus.
‘Never much bothered with all that family tree bullshit,’ Regan goes on. ‘As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got my brothers and that’s it. I couldn’t give a shit about this lot.’
‘Not even your wife?’ Danny asks.
Regan shrugs. ‘She’s all right I suppose. Serves a purpose. But it’s not like me and my brothers. They’re real family.’
Danny’s right. Alcohol really does make people honest. An
d I’m beginning to see what he’s trying to do.
‘I’m not your real family?’ asks Anise, her eyes wide and hurt. ‘But … I thought … we’re married. You said … you always said we were family. That I had a family now …’
Regan looks a bit wrong-footed. ‘Hey, hey. Calm down, all right. Let’s not go getting upset. I didn’t mean …’ He frowns. ‘Wait. What did I mean?’
‘Have a drop more wine,’ says Danny, filling up Regan’s glass. ‘That always helps me think clearer.’
‘Cheers mate,’ says Regan. ‘You know, I’m beginning to like you. Maybe I’ll let you borrow my wife one day after all.’ He roars with laughter.
‘With pleasure,’ Danny whispers, fixing Anise with his brown eyes.
Anise smiles. Just a little. Then she takes a sip of water.
76
By the time dessert arrives, Regan is completely drunk.
He’s swaying and singing to himself and can’t string a sentence together.
A mountain of profiteroles under spun sugar and chocolate sauce is brought to the table. Then a huge bowl of Cranachan, which I learn is a Scottish trifle of raspberries, double cream, oats, honey and whisky. And apple pie.
‘Regan,’ Danny shouts. ‘Pudding for you, mate?’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Regan slurs, waving his wineglass around.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ says Danny, motioning for Louise to serve Regan a bowl of Cranachan. ‘Let’s make it extra special, shall we? Scottish dessert. Why not put an extra slug of whisky in it?’
‘Why not?’ says Regan.
Anise shakes her head, but Regan ignores her. ‘It’s all right, wifey. I can handle my booze.’
‘Course you can,’ says Danny, grabbing the table whisky and pouring a huge measure into Regan’s dessert bowl. ‘You’re a real man. You get stuck in.’ He pushes the bowl towards Regan.
Louise serves the rest of us dessert, although I can only manage two profiteroles. I’m so stuffed.
Dad, Vicky and Danny have small portions too, but Patrick and Grey have huge helpings of all three puddings.
‘You two boys really can eat,’ says Dad.
‘It’s the Scottish in us,’ says Grey. ‘We can’t stand to see food going to waste. Plus, my lovely girlfriend here did some the cooking. It would be a crying shame not to taste all of it.’
Vicky smiles. I get the feeling it’s the first time Grey has called her his girlfriend.
‘So you two really are an item,’ I say.
‘We really are,’ says Grey. ‘And there’s no need to look so surprised, Miss Seraphina. Just because I like to flirt, doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart.’
‘I never doubted you had a heart,’ I say.
‘You did for a little while,’ says Grey.
‘All right. Maybe for a little while.’
‘Did you try it on with Seraphina?’ Regan slurs, waving a fork in Grey’s direction. ‘I wouldn’t blame you. She’d be dynamite that one, wouldn’t she? Don’t you think?’
Grey glares at Regan. ‘That’s my brothers fiancée you’re talking about.’
Anise puts her knife and fork carefully on the table. ‘Regan,’ she says. ‘You’re drunk. We should go.’ She tries to take his arm.
‘No, no, no,’ he slurs, snatching his arm away.
‘Regan, tell me again about family,’ says Danny. ‘So your brothers are your family. But not your wife. Is that right?’
‘She’s not my family,’ says Regan, waving his fork around. He’s so drunk, it’s like he’s forgotten there’s anyone else in the room. ‘Never has been, never will be. She’s just some girl I might have got pregnant years ago. I didn’t even want to marry her to tell the truth. But …’ He waves his hand around. ‘See what I got for it. Half a castle. Not bad for a man my age.’
Anise’s hands are trembling. ‘Regan,’ she says, close to tears. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘So?’ Regan barks. He looks confused for a moment. ‘I need a cigarette.’
He staggers out of the dining hall.
Anise stands up. Then she sees Danny and hesitates. ‘I suppose … I mean there’s no sense going after him right now. When he’s in this state.’
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Danny asks.
Anise looks at the table. ‘Regan doesn’t like me drinking.’
‘He’ll never know,’ says Danny.
There’s a roar of a quad bike outside, and Anise’s eyes go wide. ‘Oh no. He’s racing again. He’s going to kill himself.’
‘Good riddance,’ says Patrick.
‘No. No.’ Anise fiddles with her napkin. ‘He’s my husband. I should stop him …’
‘Let him blow off some steam,’ says Danny. ‘He’ll only get angry if you try and stop him.’
Anise puts a hand on her chair. ‘Maybe you’re right. I just don’t want him to get hurt.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ says Danny. ‘I bet he’s ridden a bike a hundred times. Right?’
‘Yes, but—’ Anise looks at the window, her face tight and anxious.
‘Forgive me for saying this,’ says Danny. ‘But you could do much better than that guy.’
Anise shakes her head. ‘I love him. He’s my husband … I should go.’ She hurries out of the room.
Dad puts his spoon in his bowl. ‘Why on earth was that young lady with a man like that?’
‘She thinks she loves him,’ I say.
‘Very sad,’ says Dad.
‘I agree with you,’ says Patrick. ‘Unfortunately, my sister has to live her own life. And there’s not much anyone can do about it.’
‘Maybe I can help,’ says Danny.
‘Unlikely.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ says Danny. ‘She wasn’t happy with that guy tonight. Couldn’t you tell? That crack he made about family. It really upset her.’
‘She wants a family for Bertie,’ I say. ‘That’s part of the hold he has over her.’
‘Ah,’ says Dad. ‘Families, eh? Always so complicated.’
‘And I thought ours was bad,’ says Danny.
77
When we go to bed, Patrick is brooding.
I watch him unlace his shoes and place them neatly by the bed. Then he takes off his tuxedo and folds it, ready for housekeeping to clean.
He sits naked on the end of the bed, head in his hands.
I climb behind him, putting my arms around his shoulders.
‘You look serious,’ I say. ‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Anise.’
‘You know, I saw something tonight – when I asked her about Bertie. And when Danny was talking to her. She’s not totally lost. Not yet.’
Patrick sighs. ‘Maybe. Never give up hope. That’s what my grandfather used to say. Without hope you have nothing.’
‘It must have been hard for you at dinner,’ I say, resting my chin on his bare shoulder. ‘To stay calm.’
‘I wanted to rip Regan’s throat out.’
‘Then your really would lose Anise forever.’
‘Maybe. But then again maybe she’s already lost.’
‘I don’t think so.’
I climb around to sit on his lap, pulling my dress up around my thighs.
I move a strand of blond hair from Patrick’s eyes. ‘So Lord Mansfield. What did you think of my family?’
‘I liked them. Although I’m keeping a close eye on your brother.’
I laugh. ‘You’re not the first person to say that.’
‘But I haven’t met all your family yet,’ says Patrick, wrapping his arms around me. ‘What about your mother?’
My smile leaves my face. ‘What about her?’
‘I should meet her. The wedding is two days away.’
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘Seraphina—’
‘Look, she might not even be coming to the wedding. I haven’t asked her yet—’
‘You haven’t asked her?’
‘No. And I might not. I mean … it might be better if she’s not there.’
‘Why?’
‘You’d have to meet her to understand.’
‘I’m going to have to meet her at some point.’
‘Why?’
Patrick laughs. ‘Because she’s your mother. She’s part of you. I want to meet all your family.’
‘She is absolutely not part of me.’
‘Temper, temper.’ Patrick grins. ‘God, I love seeing you angry.’
I laugh. ‘Why?’
‘I like your toughness. That you’re a challenge for me. You can stand up to me. Not many women can.’
‘Or many men either,’ I say.
Patrick looks down at my dress. ‘I’m curious,’ he says, running his hands down my thighs. ‘What made you choose this dress tonight? Do you take pleasure in driving me crazy?’
‘Yes,’ I tease. ‘Great, great pleasure.’
He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me, hard. His tongue pushes into my mouth and I melt against him, letting him work and probe.
Then he stands, picking me as he does so.
My thighs grip his hips and I cling to him as he kisses me.
He turns and lowers me to the bed, onto the soft duvet. His strong fingers stroke my neck, down over my breasts, naval and end up on my hips, where he grips the dress and pulls it up over my ribs.
I sit up a little to help him pull the dress over my head. Then I lie back naked on the duvet.
Patrick hesitates, gazing at my naked body for a moment. ‘You are so, so beautiful Seraphina Harper. I am a lucky man.’
‘You certainly are,’ I murmur. ‘Not many girls would agree to marry such a sexist caveman.’
‘I would never ask any other girl,’ says Patrick, dropping his hand to stroke my breast. ‘Only you. You, you, you.’
He presses his lips between my legs, his tongue darting around.
‘Mmmm.’ I lie back on the bed as his tongue circles and moves.
His fingers run up and down my body, leaving little electric shock trails.
My face is feeling flushed and my body temperature is rising.
‘Oh Patrick. Patrick. Don’t stop.’
He doesn’t. His tongue circles and circles and my thighs clamp either side of his head as the tension builds up.