Smokescreen

by Anne Mather

  Olivia had dressed with care, the demureness of her high-necked blouse and ankle-length skirt a deliberate attempt to maintain the distance of their relationship.

  But she need not have bothered. Alex was morose, remote; eating what was put before him without really noticing it, and offering no more in the way of conversation than the perfunctory exchanges necessary to the task. He was evidently involved with some inner conflict, and Olivia had plenty of time to admire the elegant cut of his dark green velvet dinner jacket, which contrasted so attractively with his light hair and tanned skin. She didn’t want to look at him; she didn’t want to find anything attractive in his indolent appearance; but the fact remained that her eyes did linger on the bleached hair that brushed his collar at the back of his neck, and on the brown skin of his wrists emerging from his cuffs.

  When the meal was over he excused himself abruptly, and when Mrs Winters served her coffee in the library she did so with the information that Master Alex had taken himself off.

  ‘I thought he might have stayed in this evening, seeing as how it’s your first evening downstairs, Mrs Gantry,’ she declared, in mild admonition, and then qualified this statement by saying that he had said something about seeing Mr Cosgrove, and that she supposed his father’s solicitor would be glad to see him.

  Olivia absorbed this information sceptically. She doubted Alex had taken himself off so eagerly just to see Adam Cosgrove. But she didn’t argue with Mrs Winters, and when the housekeeper had left her, she determinedly found herself a book and tried to read.

  The following day she was left very much to her own devices. Alex disappeared after breakfast, and although Olivia told herself she was glad when the Maserati roared off down the drive, human nature being what it is, she was intently curious as to his destination. Had he gone to see the mysterious Miss Eve? Or had he arranged to meet Adam Cosgrove again? She had no way of knowing, and when bedtime came, and he still had not returned, curiosity gave way to resentment.

  The telephone rang next morning while she was having a solitary breakfast, and answering it, she heard Adam Cosgrove’s voice.

  ‘Mrs Gantry?’ He sounded relieved. ‘Oh, Olivia, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Olivia was curious. She couldn’t imagine why Adam Cosgrove might be calling her. Unless it had something to do with Alex! ‘Er—is something wrong?’

  ‘No, nothing. Nothing at all. I—just wondered if we could arrange a meeting, Olivia. There are one or two things we have to discuss.’

  ‘Of course.’ In the upheaval of Alex’s arrival and her subsequent illness, Olivia had forgotten her promise to the older man. ‘Whenever you say. This afternoon, if you like.’

  ‘That would be fine.’ Adam sounded pleased. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, so will I.’ Olivia made her farewells, but she returned the receiver to its rest with a troubled frown. Somehow she had the feeling that Adam’s call was more than just an invitation to discuss the administration of Henry’s will, and she couldn’t help associating it with Mrs Winters’ information of two nights ago. Had Alex really gone to see Adam Cosgrove, and if so, why? Was it just because they were old friends, or had he had more personal matters on his mind? Somehow, the idea of Alex confiding in Adam Cosgrove without her knowledge filled her with an unreasoning resentment that she did not try to analyse. So these were the terms he had spoken of! How much more was she expected to take?

  Deciding she would prefer to avoid Alex until after this interview, Olivia left the study and went up to her room to change. She had decided she would have lunch in Chalcott, and after arranging with Forsyth to have the car at the door in fifteen minutes, she took off the skirt and sweater she had been wearing, and replaced them with a purple suede trouser suit. A fur jacket completed the ensemble, and she was about to leave the room to go downstairs, when Mary knocked at the door.

  ‘You’re going out?’ she exclaimed, pausing to view Olivia’s appearance with approving eyes. ‘Master Alex asked me to find you. He wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Then he’ll have to wait, won’t he?’ replied Olivia tautly, picking up her handbag. ‘Forsyth is waiting for me, Mary. I—er—I have an appointment in Chalcott. Tell Mr Gantry I’ll speak to him when I get back.’

  ‘And when will you be back, Mrs Gantry?’ Mary asked bewilderedly. ‘I mean—couldn’t you just spare a minute—’

  ‘No, I couldn’t.’ Olivia was waiting for the other girl to move out of the doorway, and when Mary unwillingly did so, she passed her with a tight smile. ‘Tell Mrs Winters I won’t be in to lunch, will you?’ she added crisply, and walked away along the corridor before any further protest was forthcoming.

  It was a chilly March day, but Chalcott was busy with people shopping for the weekend ahead, and Olivia welcomed the comforting anonymity of crowds of people. Telling Forsyth she would ring when she wanted him to come back for her, she dismissed the chauffeur, and spent the rest of the morning wandering round the shopping precinct. Occasionally she was recognised, she knew that, from the furtive glances she received from shop assistants, who whispered to their colleagues behind hastily erected barriers. It was an experience she had been forced to get used to since her marriage to Henry Gantry, her youth and beauty providing more than enough interest for the avid gossip columnists. However, since Henry’s last illness, she had spent little time in public places, and it was rather unnerving to find his death had not changed her image as his widow.

  The idea of lunching in some public restaurant therefore became less appealing. Wherever she went, someone was bound to recognise her, and rather than find herself the cynosure of so many curious eyes, she bought herself a sandwich and a can of coke, and took them to the park.

  Fortunately the weather meant that few people ventured into the park on such an afternoon. There was only one other adult there, a girl of perhaps her own age or a little older, accompanied by a toddler wearing a fleecy red jump-suit. They were playing a game with a ball, and Olivia idly watched their antics, enjoying the sense of freedom they evoked. The baby, for he was little more, was quite adorable, and noticing how brown his skin was, Olivia was reminded of Alex. Like Alex, the baby had evidently spent some time in a warmer climate. No one could look so rudely healthy after a damp winter in England, and she guessed the girl’s husband must be employed overseas.

  The girl herself was slim and attractive, with burnished brown hair and an alert pointed face. She was not at all tanned, but her skin was of that pale, magnolia fairness that seldom gains any colour, and Olivia had little doubt that she was the baby’s mother. She found herself envying the girl’s happiness, the simple pleasure she obviously gained from playing with her little son—or daughter, Olivia was not sure which—and the irony of her own position struck her with a painful intensity. That she should find herself attracted to a man who not only despised her and everything she stood for, but who was forbidden to her by the very vows she had taken so unwillingly. She and her mother were the same: they were both destined to suffer at the hands of the Gantrys.

  Adam Cosgrove was awaiting her when she arrived at his office a little after two o’clock. His secretary greeted her sympathetically, offering her own condolences over Henry’s death, and then showed her into Adam’s office with the deference afforded to her position.

  ‘Olivia!’ Adam took her hand warmly before ushering her into the chair opposite his. ‘You’re looking much better. I was sorry to hear you’d been taken ill so soon after the funeral.’

  Olivia subsided into the seat and managed a faint smile. ‘Just a cold, Mr Cosgrove,’ she assured him evenly. ‘I’m sorry, too. I should have rung you sooner. I forgot all about our previous arrangement.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Adam seated himself behind his desk and viewed her understandingly. ‘I expect you’ve had other things on your mind.’

  Olivia bit her lip. ‘You know that Alex is back.’

  Adam’s hesitation w
as barely perceptible. ‘Yes. Yes, I know.’

  ‘Of course, he came to see you, didn’t he?’ Olivia was not finding this easy, and nor, she hazarded, was he. ‘You wrote to him. You should have told me.’

  Adam’s lips twisted. ‘Yes. Yes, perhaps I should. But, as Henry knew where he was and made no effort to get in touch with him…’

  ‘Henry knew!’ Olivia’s dark brows arched.

  ‘I did inform him of Alex’s whereabouts, from time to time.’

  ‘I see.’ Olivia realised she had leant forward in her chair and deliberately forced herself to relax again. ‘Henry didn’t mention that to me.’

  ‘He wouldn’t,’ Adam shrugged. ‘But it’s all water under the bridge now—’

  ‘What is?’ Olivia met his wry gaze. ‘Mr Cosgrove, isn’t it about time I was told why Henry chose to cut Alex out of his will?’

  Adam frowned. ‘If he didn’t tell you—’

  ‘But as Henry’s dead now, the information can’t hurt him, can it? And—and it might help me.’

  ‘Help you?’ Adam looked curious. ‘How?’

  Olivia sighed. ‘To get to know Alex better. He—well, as you can imagine, he and I are not exactly on the best of terms at present, and it’s very difficult to put your point of view if you don’t understand the situation.’

  Adam studied her animated features for a few moments, then got heavily up from his chair. ‘Olivia, I’m not sure—I’m not sure getting to know—this young man will serve any useful purpose.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Olivia looked up at him. ‘Surely it would serve a very useful purpose?’

  ‘Olivia, you mustn’t let anyone force you into doing something you might later regret!’

  ‘Regret?’ Olivia was confused. ‘How—regret?’

  Adam sighed now, pacing across the room with slow deliberation. ‘I realise you might feel—obligated,’ he said, after some consideration, ‘but really, it’s not something you should rush into.’

  Olivia looked down at her hands, trying to make some sense of what he was trying to say. She had come here, prepared to defend her rights as Henry’s heir, and instead Adam seemed to be trying to warn her. But warn her about what?

  ‘I thought—I assumed you were Alex’s friend,’ she ventured at last, and Adam made a sound of impatience before resuming his seat.

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘I—am Alex’s friend. But I’m your friend, Olivia, and I was H.R.’s friend, too.’

  Olivia licked her lips. ‘You’re saying you don’t trust Alex, is that it?’

  Adam expelled his breath wearily. ‘I’m saying that perhaps there are circumstances here that you should consider very seriously before doing anything.’

  Olivia was completely mystified, and she looked it. ‘Mr Cosgrove, has Francis Kennedy spoken to you?’

  ‘Francis?’ Adam looked puzzled. ‘No. At least, not since the evening after the funeral. We had dinner together.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he told me. But you didn’t mention to him that Alex was back.’

  ‘I saw no reason to do so. Not at that time.’

  ‘No,’ Olivia nodded. ‘So Francis hasn’t said anything to you about—about the corporation?’

  ‘No.’ Adam shook his head. ‘But I understand that you have asked for a full report before you announce any new appointments.’

  Alex! thought Olivia caustically. So he had been here two nights ago.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said now, toying with the strap of her handbag. ‘I think that’s fair, don’t you?’

  ‘It was my intention to advise you to tread carefully before making any commitment,’ Adam agreed. ‘And it gives you time to consider all options.’

  ‘Yes.’ Olivia’s smile was tight, but Adam didn’t seem to notice. ‘Tell me,’ she went on, ‘what would you do, in my position? About Alex, I mean.’

  This was evidently a question he was not prepared for, and the nervous way his fingers fiddled with the inkstand on the desk revealed his agitation. ‘I?’ he said, to gain some time. ‘My dear Olivia, I think you know H.R.’s wishes as well as I do. Perhaps my best advice to you is to remember that you were his wife, and he left the corporation in your hands.’

  Olivia uttered an aggravated sound. ‘You said yourself you’d tried to change Henry’s mind!’

  ‘Without success.’

  ‘But Alex is here?’

  ‘He chose to walk out on his father,’ Adam replied quietly. ‘And the way things have turned out, he hasn’t exactly covered himself with glory, has he?’

  ‘Why not? Why did he walk out on his father? Mr Cosgrove, you must tell me. He—he’s my stepson. How can I be objective about something I don’t know?’

  Adam rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘What do you really know about Alex? What did H.R. tell you?’

  ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Adam was thoughtful. ‘And what about his first wife? Alex’s mother. Did H.R. tell you how she died?’

  ‘No.’ Olivia frowned. ‘I assumed she had some illness…’

  ‘She was drowned.’ Adam’s lips jutted. ‘Elise was drowned. She was found in the river, not far from the house.’

  ‘Oh, how awful!’ Olivia was appalled. ‘Was there an accident?’ She was remembering what Alex had said about a boat sinking. ‘Poor Henry!’

  ‘Yes.’ Adam sounded less sympathetic. ‘It was terrible. But it was no accident, I’m afraid.’

  Olivia stared at him. ‘You mean—she was murdered!’

  ‘Nothing so dramatic, my dear. She committed suicide. She couldn’t swim, you see, so she took Alex’s dinghy out into midstream and sank it.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘But—but why?’

  ‘It’s a long story…’

  ‘I’d still like to hear it.’

  Adam bent his head to rest his chin on the tips of his fingers. ‘You may not like what you hear.’

  ‘I’m prepared to risk it.’

  ‘Very well.’ Adam drew a deep breath. ‘She killed herself because she found out H.R. was having an affair with another woman.’

  Olivia stiffened. ‘Another woman?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Adam’s nostrils flared. ‘I told you you might not like it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Olivia was impatient. ‘Please—go on.’

  ‘Well, let me see, it must be all of twenty years ago now, maybe longer. H.R. was in the process of building his empire.’ His tone was wry. ‘Some woman—the wife of a man he was doing business with—attracted his attention. I don’t know all the details. I only know Elise found out and when H.R. refused to give up this woman, she took her own life.’

  Olivia was trembling now. The connotations were too precise. There had to be a connection between what Adam was relating and what her mother had told her.

  ‘Anyway, it was all hushed up,’ Adam said tersely. ‘Alex was only a child, not much more than eight years old, I suppose, and H.R. didn’t want a scandal. Unfortunately, as it turned out, H.R. was not the only one to suffer from that tragic affair.’

  ‘You mean—Alex?’

  ‘The boy blamed himself, you see.’ Adam spoke flatly. ‘It was his dinghy. He didn’t understand what had happened, of course, and in his eyes his mother’s death was due to him.’

  ‘Olivia’s fingers were curled into tight balls. ‘But surely—Henry explained—’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Adam’s hands fell heavily to the arms of his chair. ‘It was easier, you see, to let the boy believe—’

  ‘—that he was his mother’s murderer!’

  ‘Not that.’ Adam was evidently trying to be objective. ‘Olivia, H.R. thought it would be healthier for the boy not to learn why his mother died. At least, not then.’

  Olivia felt sick. She could imagine how Alex must have felt, lost and alone, deprived of the mother he had known and loved. He must have blamed himself utterly for everything that had happened, and how that guilt would weigh on a boy o
f eight!

  ‘I—I suppose—he found out,’ she ventured, and Adam nodded.

  ‘Eventually. Someone must have told him—H.R. never found out who. I think he suspected Sean Barrett, but he could never prove anything, and besides, what could he say? It was the truth.’ He sighed. ‘Alex never forgave his father.’

  Olivia tried to absorb this new information. It certainly explained Alex’s feelings towards his father. To allow a boy to shoulder a burden that should not have been his in the first place was an intolerable crime, and it made Henry’s reasons for cutting his son out of his will even less acceptable. Olivia shook her head. She had thought she had reasons for hating Henry Gantry, but compared to Alex’s experience, her own seemed insignificant. After all, without her mother’s involvement Alex’s mother might still be alive. It would be asking too much of coincidence to believe that some other woman had been around at the same time, and it was irony indeed that that woman’s daughter should now stand between him and his inheritance. Or had that been Henry’s plan? Had marrying her been the final denunciation? She doubted she would ever know, but at least her own course of action seemed clear to her now.

  ‘Mr Cosgrove.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous tongue before continuing: ‘Mr Cosgrove, do you remember, just after the funeral, when we discussed Henry’s will?’

  ‘Of course.’ Adam inclined his head.

  ‘And do you remember I expressed some disappointment at the terms of the will?’

  ‘I think you were distraught, Olivia. It’s difficult for someone without the experience to understand how an organisation like the Gantry corporation works.’

  ‘Yes.’ Olivia was prepared to let that go. ‘Well, I—I’ve had some time to think about this, and—and after considering all the facts, I think I’d like to propose Alex as chairman.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  Adam’s denial was firm and compelling, and Olivia stared at him blankly, bewildered by his reaction. She had expected he, of all of them, would approve her recommendation, and his brusque negation was both disappointing and baffling.