Double Cheque

by Heather MacQuarrie

  Heather MacQuarrie lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland, but also spends a good deal of her time in the Algarve region of Portugal. Happily married to Ross, she is a mother, grandmother and former teacher. Since leaving the classroom behind in 2012 Heather has enjoyed reinventing herself as a writer of contemporary romance and mystery fiction.

  Double Cheque is her fifth novel.

  Also by Heather MacQuarrie

  A Voice from the Past

  In the Greater Scheme of Things

  Blood is Thicker

  Broken Cups

  www.heathermacquarrie.com

  Thank you to the team at Matador, especially Heidi, Emily and Andrea, for their professional services and friendly advice in managing the production of this book.

  Thank you to my husband, Ross, and to the rest of my family, for their unwavering support and encouragement and for their guidance in all things technical.

  And thank you to all those who continue to buy and read my books. I hope you enjoy this one.

  Heather xx

  Copyright © 2018 Heather MacQuarrie

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Matador

  9 Priory Business Park,

  Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,

  Leicestershire. LE8 0RX

  Tel: 0116 279 2299

  Email: books@troubador.co.uk

  Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador

  Twitter: @matadorbooks

  ISBN 978 1789011 166

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  Contents

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Two

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Part Three

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Jasmine remained in her hiding place behind the coat-stand in the darkened hallway until her mother went back upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind her. Only then did she dare to breathe as the horror of what she had just overheard began to sink in. She slipped furtively into the now empty kitchen and slouched down into the nearest chair, holding her head in her hands as she went over it again in her mind. Dougie. Who on earth was Dougie? And Grant Cartwright. She recognised that name. She just couldn’t place it but it was definitely familiar. Something from her childhood. Yes, it was slowly coming back to her. Visits to Mum’s friend, Cathy. A girl called Rebecca and a baby. A baby with a boy’s name even though it was a girl. Robyn; that was it. The baby was called Robyn. And they had a big brother about the same age as her own brother, Sam. Grant. Grant Cartwright. Jasmine knew that her mother had remained friends with Cathy but it had ceased to be a family thing once they were all old enough to forge their own friendships outside the family circle. She hadn’t seen any of them for years.

  Several minutes passed while Jasmine tried to digest the information that was now flooding her brain. Why was her mum speaking to this man, Dougie, in secret? Who was Mr Ferguson? One thing was for sure; she didn’t want her mum to know that she had overheard her phone call so she tiptoed out to the front door, opened it as quietly as she could and then slammed it shut quite noisily, hoping that her parents would hear her and think that she was just arriving home. She was pretty sure that they hadn’t heard her clocking in for real twenty minutes earlier. Her plan worked perfectly. As Jasmine mounted the stairs and made her way to her own room, she heard the muffled greeting from her parents’ bedroom.

  “Is that you, Sweetheart? Night night! Sleep well.”

  “Night Mum,” she answered as though on autopilot. “Night Dad.”

  It felt surreal. She was just exchanging pleasantries as normal. But things were not normal. They were anything but normal. She had heard enough to know that her mum was having an affair with someone called Dougie. She was cheating on her dad.

  Jasmine lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t know what to do. And she couldn’t believe that this was happening. Phenomenons like this presented themselves in other families, not in hers. Her parents’ marriage was rock solid and always had been. She missed her brother and her sister. Sam was living with his girlfriend, Tania, at Tania’s parents’ house until they could afford somewhere of their own. They had a little baby, Stevie, just nine months old. It wouldn’t be fair to burden Sam with this disclosure; he had enough problems of his own. And Molly was in Australia, probably arranging her next sky dive or parachute drop to add to her gap year experiences; she wouldn’t be able to help either. With a heavy heart Jasmine realised that she had no allies. She alone was aware that her parents’ marriage was in jeopardy. But what could she do about it? She closed her eyes in an attempt to stem the tears but with little effect. Maybe it would all turn out to be a bad dream.

  ***

  Breakfast on a Monday morning never was the cheeriest of occasions in the Campbell household so nothing appeared to be amiss until Patricia dropped the bombshell that she might have to work over the coming weekend. Her boss wanted her to attend an exhibition in Scotland, she announced; it was apparently an excellent PR opportunity for the company. Jasmine froze, her coffee cup suspended half-way between the table and her lips, a piece of toast wedged in her throat.

  “You didn’t mention it yesterday,” Kenneth said, a look of puzzlement on his face.

  “Do you know, it completely slipped my mind,” his wife replied nonchalantly. “It was only mentioned briefly as a possibility but I just had a text message confirming it. While you were in the shower.”

  Jasmine coughed to dislodge the toast and took a sip of her coffee. She would have to think quickly. She could not let this happen. She had only heard one side of that conversation last night but she had definitely witnessed her mother arranging to spend the weekend with someone called Dougie and admitting to being in a relationship with him. And her mother’s phone had been sitting on the shelf behind them, plugged into the socket in the wall, the whole time that her dad
had been in the shower. She hadn’t been near it.

  “Can you take an early flight out and get back the same day?” Kenneth was asking.

  “I’m afraid not,” Patricia answered without batting an eyelid. “The exhibition runs for two days. I’ll need to stay over.”

  Kenneth gave her a funny look, which started Jasmine thinking.

  He knows. I’m sure he suspects something. This isn’t the first time Mum has gone off on her own for the weekend but she usually says it has something to do with her friend, Cathy. She doesn’t often use work as an excuse. But Dad knows that things have cooled a bit between Mum and Cathy in recent weeks so she has had to come up with something else. But that look he gave her. I think he’s beginning to catch on. Surely it isn’t too late to stop her. I have to do something.

  “Why don’t you go too, Dad,” she blurted out on an impulse. “Mum won’t be working the whole time. You could have a romantic mini-break in a nice hotel and you’d have time to do a bit of sightseeing while she’s at the exhibition. I know how you love your museums and art galleries.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, Jasmine,” Kenneth agreed, nodding his head.

  Jasmine almost found it funny as she watched her mother squirm at this response until she remembered the seriousness of the situation. She complimented herself on her resourcefulness and breathed a sigh of relief. If she could at least thwart her plans for this weekend, there would be more time to come up with a permanent solution. But then Patricia spoke again.

  “I’d rather do that another time when I’d be free to go sightseeing with you,” she said. “Your birthday is just a couple of weeks away. We could do it then. Have a real mini-break together.”

  “Or you could do both,” Jasmine put in, desperately.

  Patricia glared at her daughter. “Stop telling your dad what to do, Jasmine,” she bristled. “He can make up his own mind. What’s it got to do with you anyway?”

  “The birthday treat sounds good to me,” Kenneth affirmed, bringing the conversation to a close. “Now look at the time. We’re all going to be late for work if we don’t get a move on.” He finished his coffee in one gulp and left the table.

  Jasmine wasn’t so sure now that her father had twigged what was going on. But she had no doubt about her mother’s guilty secret; the look of self-satisfied smugness on Patricia’s face said it all. Well, it wasn’t over yet; she still had four days to stop this rendezvous from taking place.

  ***

  The Cartwright children hadn’t entered Jasmine’s thoughts for many years but hearing Grant’s name mentioned last night had evoked memories from her childhood which refused to go away during her day at work. Jasmine was a dental receptionist in a large modern practice. She spent her working hours checking patients in and out as they arrived for appointments, sending reminder emails to cut down on the number of people who fail to turn up at the given time and answering the phone. Today was particularly busy and she hardly had time to breathe or dwell on her parents’ problems until her coffee break at eleven o’clock. As she sat in the small staff room and poured hot water onto the spoonful of instant coffee in her blue mug, her mind reverted to those far off days when she had played in Auntie Cathy’s garden. She wasn’t really an aunt but that was how she had been taught to address the woman. She was her mum’s best friend. Sometimes her real nephew was there too as well as her own children. There had been a big party to celebrate the millennium but after that Jasmine couldn’t recall seeing much of the Cartwrights or their cousin. She would have been about eight at that time.

  One of the hygienists came in for her break and started chatting to Jasmine about her holiday. Emily had just returned from a fortnight in Lanzarote and was sporting a healthy tan. She proceeded to display pictures on her phone, everything from busy and colourful beaches and swimming pools to lively bars and restaurants and cycle rides on lonely country roads. Jasmine enjoyed the distraction but her mind returned to the past as soon as her colleague left.

  The millennium party was held at Cathy’s parents’ house. There was the baby, Robyn, and the girl, Rebecca, who would have been about six, same as Molly. Sam and Grant would have been teenagers and there were two other boys about their age. One of them couldn’t walk very well and could hardly speak. What was his name? Alastair. That was it, Alastair. He was Grant’s cousin. And his friend was called Bradley. Molly and I thought he was gorgeous! And Rebecca’s grandfather organised all sorts of games for us to play. Gosh, that was sixteen years ago! I wonder where they all are now.

  Jasmine shook herself from her reverie. Her break was over and she would be needed back at the desk. Those people weren’t in her life anymore; it didn’t matter where they were today. Except for Grant. Her mother had said something in that phone call last night about passing on a message to Grant Cartwright and something about someone called Ferguson. She couldn’t remember exactly what had been said but it was clear that there was some kind of connection between Grant Cartwright and her mother’s lover, Dougie, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She would have to enlist the help of her brother, Sam, after all.

  Chapter 2

  Tania Hopkins was at her wits’ end. Here she was still living with her parents at the age of twenty-five, complete with a nine month old baby and a boyfriend who didn’t really love her and didn’t really want to be there. His discomfort with their living arrangements was tangible and it was getting worse by the day. Tania was well aware that Sam still hankered after his first love, still held a torch for her, a girl called Imogen. She was convinced that he still regretted not opening up to Imogen when she phoned him one evening last November, shortly before Stevie was born. Tania had witnessed the conversation and much as she respected him for his loyalty to her, she understood that it came at a price. Sam didn’t love her. They had only stayed together because of the pregnancy. And she had to be honest. She wasn’t sure whether she loved him either. He was a nice enough guy, good fun to be around in a casual manner. But she couldn’t imagine marrying him, not that he had proposed to her anyway. So why was she still with him? Especially when he was obviously so unhappy.

  The doorbell rang. Tania was annoyed. It was one of the rare occasions when she had the house to herself. Her parents were at the cinema, Sam had gone to the pub for a few pints with his golfing friends and Stevie was fast asleep. She considered ignoring the interruption but the caller was persistent, ringing the bell for a second time. Tania went out into the hallway and opened the door.

  “Hi Tania.” It was Sam’s sister, Jasmine. “Is my brother at home?”

  Tania shook her head sadly and then suddenly, without warning, she burst into tears. Jasmine was alarmed.

  “Whatever is the matter?” she asked, as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Have the two of you had a row?”

  Jasmine gently shepherded the young mother back into the lounge and sat down with her on the sofa. Tania hadn’t yet answered her question. She repeated it.

  “Is everything all right between the two of you? Where is Sam?”

  “He hates living here,” Tania now disclosed. “He feels trapped.”

  Jasmine was shocked. “Has he moved out?” she faltered. “Where has he gone?”

  Tania shook her head. “Not yet,” she sighed, “but it’s coming to that. He’s just gone out for a drink with some friends but he’s doing that more and more and staying away longer each time. We’re coming to the end of the road.”

  “Oh no! I can’t believe it. What about Stevie?” The baby wasn’t even a year old yet.

  “Stevie’s fine,” Tania reassured her. “We both love him to bits but we don’t have anything else in common and my parents are driving Sam round the twist.”

  Jasmine had forgotten her reason for calling by now. She could fully understand that living with Tania’s parents was not an ideal situation for her brother by any means. He had a
strong independent streak, liked to do things his own way. “Don’t let it get you down,” she soothed. “Surely you’ll be fine once you have a place of your own.”

  “He doesn’t love me,” Tania said resignedly. “He’s only ever loved one person.”

  Jasmine stared at her. Surely not. Surely not after all this time. But deep down she sensed that it might be true.

  “Imogen,” they both said together.

  The door opened and Sam himself materialised in front of them. “Hi Sis,” he slurred, evidently a bit intoxicated. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, thanks for the warm welcome,” Jasmine answered with a scowl, hoping that he hadn’t overheard them. “At least Tania was pleased to see me.”

  “It’s a fair enough question. You don’t often come to visit in the evenings.”

  “How would you know?” Tania retorted. “You’re hardly ever in.”

  “Well I’m in now. And it’s only nine o’clock. Give me a break, Tania!”

  Jasmine stood up and tried to pretend that she hadn’t detected the animosity between them. “Well I’ll be off and give you some time to yourselves,” she said as cheerily as she could muster. “I just thought I’d pop in because I was in the area.”

  “Everything all right at home then?” quipped Sam. “Have you heard from Molly?”

  “She’s having the time of her life,” Jasmine replied. “I don’t know how she’ll settle down to study next year after all this excitement.”

  “And is Mum behaving herself?”

  Jasmine was momentarily confused by the question. “What do you mean by that?” she quizzed her brother.

  “I just wonder sometimes about all those weekends away with Cathy. Do you never think that there might be something more to it than meets the eye?”