And Now You're Back

by Jill Mansell

  ‘He’s pretty weak nowadays, not able to do a great deal.’ Shay waved away a large moth that was fluttering in front of him. After a pause, he said, ‘He wants to come home. Spend whatever time he has left here in Elliscombe. In his house.’

  The white solar lights strung through the branches of the trees were still glowing like stars. Didi’s eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and she could see his features more clearly now. ‘So that’s why you’re back, to get the place ready for him?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you seen the state of it lately?’

  Of course she had. Hillcrest, the Masons’ old family home, was situated on the outskirts of the town, on the road to Moreton-in-Marsh, which meant it was hard to miss. ‘The garden’s a bit . . . overgrown.’

  ‘It’s a jungle.’ Shay’s tone was curt. ‘And if you think it looks bad from the outside, you should see what it’s like on the inside. Absolute carnage.’

  ‘There was a bunch of people living there, about ten of them.’ Didi wrinkled her nose. ‘They looked a bit . . .’

  ‘That’s because they were squatters. Any other property owner would use a letting agency. But not Dad, oh no, that wasn’t his way. All he wanted was tenants who would pay rent each month via his mate Baz. But when they left and Baz went to Spain, the squatters moved in. He’s only just told me about this, by the way. I had no idea about any of it.’

  ‘And no one knew where your dad was. If they had, they’d have told him what was going on. The squatters left a few months ago.’

  ‘It’s in a hell of a state. I mean, I know it was hardly a palace before, but now . . .’ Shay grimaced. ‘I thought I was coming here to give the place a quick tidy-up, maybe mow the lawn and put the hoover around. I called Dad this afternoon to tell him what’s happened, and that was when the story came out. Then he asked me if I’d stay and sort it out.’

  Didi said, ‘No wonder you can’t get to sleep. What did you say? Are you going to?’

  He looked at her. ‘I told him it’d take months. Easier to put the place up for auction and find somewhere else for him to live.’

  ‘So is that what’s happening?’

  ‘You’d think it would make the most sense, wouldn’t you? But he doesn’t want to do that. The only place he wants to live is in the house where we grew up together as a family.’

  ‘People do that, though, don’t they? Go back to their roots, because that’s where their memories are.’ Didi nodded; she could understand the longing to return. She watched Shay’s gaze follow the silhouette of the rooftops against the sky. ‘Does it feel strange, being here again?’

  ‘Strange and familiar at the same time.’ He indicated the hotel in front of them. ‘This place smells exactly the same as it always did.’

  She nodded. ‘I know. Woodsmoke, old stone, beeswax polish and fresh laundry. It’s my favourite smell in the world.’

  ‘I’m going to have another drink. Can I get you one?’ Shay emptied his tumbler and rose to his feet.

  ‘I’ll have a red wine. Thanks.’

  Waiting for him to return, Didi stretched her legs out in front of her and studied the stars overhead. Beneath her clasped hands resting on her ribcage, she could feel her heart thudding slightly faster than usual. Why had she come down here? Professional concern for a guest at the hotel? Or was she bursting with curiosity, longing to learn more about Shay and the man he’d become? She already knew the answer to that. It was an unnerving sensation, being thirty-one and feeling like an eighteen-year-old again.

  Through the open side door, she heard the clink of a bottle, followed by the discreet sound of the lid being opened and closed on the wooden honesty box. When he returned, Shay leaned over her shoulder to place her glass of Montepulciano on the table.

  ‘This might sound weird,’ he said, ‘but you smell just the same too.’

  Her stomach flipped, but she said lightly, ‘Am I supposed to say thank you for that?’

  He smiled. ‘I’m talking about in a good way. Just saying, if I was blindfolded in a crowded room, I’d still recognise you.’

  Didi took a sip of wine, then a bigger sip to give herself a moment to calm down. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t been back before now.’

  ‘It was easier to stay away.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Did you ever ask my dad?’

  ‘Yes! He wouldn’t tell me.’

  ‘Amazing. He said he hadn’t, but I never really knew for sure. I went to Australia.’

  ‘Australia!’ She’d imagined a lot of destinations, but never that one.

  ‘I applied for a working holiday visa. Worked in Melbourne for six months, then Sydney for another six. When I came back to the UK, I took jobs in construction around the country.’

  ‘Construction.’ Didi digested this. Out of everyone in their year at school, he’d ended up with the best A-level grades, and had received unconditional offers from three of the top universities in the country.

  Shay shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with that. It taught me a lot. I also set up an IT consultancy in my spare time, which did well. I moved to London and carried on with that for a few years, building up the business. Then I developed an idea for a dating app, which took off.’

  A new surprise at every turn; she’d definitely never imagined him doing anything like that. ‘But I searched for you online . . . really searched. And you aren’t anywhere.’

  He nodded patiently. ‘You searched for Shay Mason. And what did you find?’

  ‘Just loads of results in local newspapers about your dad getting arrested, going to court, going to prison again. But it was always him, never you.’ Shay’s ancestors might have left Ireland a century ago, but the name had been faithfully passed down through the generations.

  ‘And any potential business clients looking me up would have found exactly the same thing. So call me a pessimist, but I did feel it might put them off the idea of dealing with me. Can you remember my middle name?’

  What a stupid question. She’d spent months silently saying his full name to herself, doodling it in the margins of exercise books and on notepads. ‘Stefan.’ At the risk of sounding like a complete stalker, she said, ‘I looked up Stefan Mason too.’

  ‘I changed it to Steven. Kept it simple.’

  Didi nodded. ‘OK. So do we call you Steven now?’

  ‘No need. Shay’s fine.’

  She had to know. ‘Did you ever look me up?’

  Another glimmer of a smile. ‘I looked up this hotel. And there you were.’

  Didi spread her hands, ta-daaa. ‘Here I am.’

  ‘Looking good.’

  Only good? Not great? Or incredible?

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a drink. ‘I still can’t believe you started a dating app. Do you use it yourself?’

  Shay shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘But it’s going well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s it called?’

  ‘Fait.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’ A small electric shock zapped down her spine. Fait was an app everyone knew. It was an app she’d used herself. It worked on the premise that although looks were obviously important when you wanted to meet someone new, how they sounded played a significant part too, so along with submitting a photo, users were invited to upload a ten-second audio file of their voice. If another subscriber then liked what they’d seen and heard, they shared their interest with you.

  ‘I was on Fait for a while, a couple of years ago,’ she said.

  ‘Were you?’ His innocent eyebrows made her wonder if he’d already been aware of this. ‘And how did that work out for you?’

  ‘OK. I mean, I didn’t meet the love of my life, but I met a couple of nice guys. Hang on, though, didn’t I see something recently about it being taken over by You-Me?’

  ‘You did. I sold the company to them. The deal went through a fortnight ago.’

  You-Me was the biggest dating app on the planet. Didi took another
gulp of red wine as what Shay was telling her began to sink in.

  ‘So did they pay you . . . a fair amount?’

  The laughter in his eyes was the same as it ever was. ‘I think we can safely call it a fair amount.’

  Blimey.

  ‘Could you buy this hotel outright if you wanted to?’

  ‘I could.’

  ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘Feels great,’ said Shay.

  It must do. She felt compelled to say it. ‘Mum and Dad never really thought you had anything to do with what happened.’

  He looked sceptical. ‘I don’t think that’s quite true, is it?’

  ‘It is!’

  ‘They were never completely sure. There was always that niggle of doubt. Be honest.’

  ‘But they liked you, they employed you.’

  ‘That’s what your father told me when he called me into his office.’ Shay paused. ‘Then he said, “And now this happens.”’

  Oh God. Didi winced at the implied betrayal of trust; she remembered that terrible afternoon as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Obviously he did too. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘And if you’re honest,’ Shay went on, ‘you’ll admit that a tiny part of you wondered if I was lying to cover myself too.’

  She wouldn’t admit it. Then again, there was no need to.

  They both knew it was true.

  ‘Right.’ Having made his point, Shay rose to his feet and raised his hand in farewell. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  She’d thought they’d been sharing a friendly catch-up chat, whereas in reality, Didi realised, he’d been teaching her a lesson for ever having doubted him.

  Well, in all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. Revenge was sweet. And who could resist it, being in his position now?

  I’m Shay Mason, I’m back and I’m richer than any of you. And don’t go thinking I’ve forgotten what you thought of me, because I haven’t, and I never will.

  Chapter 5

  Benny Colette had just surreptitiously made himself a mug of instant coffee in the large silver and marble kitchen of Compton House when Bill the gardener tapped on the side door and let himself in.

  ‘I was shifting a load of earth and almost ran this over with my wheelbarrow.’ He held up a fine silver bracelet studded with charms. ‘Just managed to spot it in time. Your wife’s, I’m guessing. She’ll be pleased to have it back.’

  Benny took the bracelet from him; it was a pretty thing, the charms catching the light as they swung from the narrow chain. It was also the kind of jewellery that Ingrid wouldn’t be seen dead wearing.

  ‘What’s this?’ High heels came clicking across the marble floor and Ingrid appeared behind him. ‘Eww, tacky. Not mine. Where did you find it?’

  ‘Just at the edge of the lawn, by the flower bed against the south wall.’ Bill looked disappointed; clearly he’d been hoping for cries of gratitude and relief, maybe even a finder’s fee. ‘Next to the lupins and hollyhocks.’

  She grimaced. ‘Well, it’s cheap. I expect someone was so horrified at having been given such an awful bracelet that they threw it over the wall into our garden to get rid of it.’

  ‘It might belong to Birgitte,’ said Benny. ‘Or one of her friends.’ He turned apologetically to Bill. ‘Thanks for bringing it in, anyway.’

  ‘Hot out there. Finished my water,’ said Bill. ‘Could I refill my bottle?’

  ‘Let me do it for you.’ Ingrid’s glance had taken in the state of his work boots. ‘We don’t want mess all over the kitchen floor, do we, like last time? Oh Benny, not again.’ Her eagle eye had landed on the jar of Nescafé he hadn’t had time to put away. ‘The Gaggia’s right here.’ She was pointing at the complicated machine that hissed and snorted like a dragon before finally conceding the world’s tiniest dribble of espresso.

  ‘I prefer instant,’ said Benny for possibly the thousandth time. He couldn’t be doing with faffing about with those beans.

  ‘Come on, come on, where are you?’ Fragments of feathers flew up into the air as Rosa energetically stripped the bed, whipping off first the pillowcases then the duvet cover and checking every last corner. She’d already searched the rest of the cottage, retraced her steps from last night’s party at the hotel and checked with Sylvia on reception that the bracelet hadn’t been found and handed in.

  This meant it had either fallen off whilst she’d been visiting Joe last night and was now lying in the garden of Compton House, or it was gone forever.

  Which in turn meant she was going to have to either find or replace it before Layla discovered that the lovely thoughtful birthday present she’d chosen for her mother had lasted twelve whole hours on her wrist before getting lost.

  No, no, it couldn’t happen again, not after last year and the debacle with the turquoise pendant.

  An hour later, by a great stroke of luck, as Rosa was leaving the corner shop with a new jar of coffee, she saw Benny and Ingrid go past in their gleaming grey Mercedes, heading away from Compton House and out of town.

  For once, fate was on her side. Seizing the moment and hurrying back along the high street, she reached the side of the property within minutes. She was forced to linger on the pavement pretending to be busy on her phone, but at last the coast was clear. She stuffed the jar of Gold Blend down the front of her T-shirt and clambered like lightning up and over the wall before dropping down to the other side. Oof, the glass was cold against her skin; she retrieved the jar and placed it on the grass, then spent five minutes methodically searching the flower bed, the lawn and the area around the base of Joe’s beloved Japanese maple.

  But no, fate had had enough and abandoned her. There was no sign anywhere of the charm bracelet. Of course there wasn’t; that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Having given the grass one last sweeping search, she made her way back to the wall, double-checked that the coast was clear, then climbed back over and headed for home.

  It wasn’t until she went to switch on the kettle in the tiny blue and white kitchen that she realised she’d left the unopened jar of coffee on the lawn of Compton House.

  OK, she definitely couldn’t risk going back again to collect a jar of Gold Blend, even if it had just cost her four pounds thirty.

  Karma’s way of telling her she should have settled for a cup of tea in the first place.

  Shay had left Elliscombe early to drive up to Birmingham airport, and by 10.30 he was waiting at Arrivals. He watched as a small boy of maybe three or four broke free from his mother and came hurtling through the gate, throwing himself into his father’s arms with a whoop of delight.

  He wondered if he himself had ever done that. He must have, surely? He loved his own father and had happy childhood memories of playing in the garden, being driven in the car with all the windows down, wild games of hide-and-seek around the house. He remembered being taken by his mum to visit his dad in prison on several occasions but knew there hadn’t been any throwing-himself-into-his-arms allowed there. He also remembered his mum first becoming ill, and feeling the need to pretend to everyone that he was fine, convincing himself that everything would be OK and there was nothing to worry about.

  Well, he’d been wrong about that, but during the years of her worsening illness he’d been able to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable, and had also learned how to cook, clean and generally become more capable than the average child. By the time his mum died, when he was twelve, he’d felt more like an adult.

  And to his grieving dad’s credit, he’d also made a concerted effort to step up and carry out his fatherly duties. For almost eighteen months, possibly more by luck than judgement, he’d managed to stay out of trouble before, inevitably, giving in to the temptation to make some easy money and getting caught offloading a lorryload of fake designer leather jackets for a fake friend.

  This was when Shay had really needed to learn how to think on his feet and take care of himself. Having persuaded a local family to reassure the authorities that he’d be living with th
em, he had returned to his own home and looked after himself. It had become a matter of pride to make a good job of this and not let the side down. On the first occasion, eking out the money from the tin kept under the floorboards, he’d eaten mainly burgers, Pot Noodles, oven chips and toast. After that, chiefly out of sheer boredom, he’d begun to cook properly, as his mum had taught him. He’d also honed his skills at fixing and mending things around the house, whilst also taking care of the cats and still maintaining excellent grades at school. The tin under the floorboards probably contained stolen money, which wasn’t ideal, obviously, but what alternative had there been? Shay had reminded himself that as soon as he was allowed to work, he’d be earning his own money, but until that time came, he’d just do what he had to do in order to get by.

  And now a girl in her twenties was rushing towards him with her arms outstretched, shouting, ‘Yay, you’re here!’ Still lost in his memories, it took Shay a moment to realise she wasn’t coming for him. He took a step to one side as she swerved past him and began enthusiastically kissing her boyfriend.

  Enthusiastically and noisily. As he moved further away to escape the assault on his ears, he spotted a familiar figure emerging from the corridor, held up behind a family of holidaymakers battling with oversized cases.

  ‘Dad.’ It was finally Shay’s turn to embrace his father, and he was glad of the excuse to hide the shock on his face. Red had always been a fine figure of a man, glowing with health, tall and rangy, with glittering dark eyes and a killer smile. Now, in the few weeks since Shay had last seen him, he was visibly thinner, moved more slowly and there were violet shadows beneath his eyes, more lines creasing his once handsome face.

  ‘Good to see you, boy.’ Red held Shay at arm’s length and broke into that old familiar smile. ‘Where’s the car?’