Contents
Cover
Also by Anthea Fraser from Severn House
Title Page
Copyright
Character List
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Also by Anthea Fraser from Severn House
The Rona Parish mysteries (in order of appearance)
BROUGHT TO BOOK
JIGSAW
PERSON OR PERSONS UNKNOWN
A FAMILY CONCERN
ROGUE IN PORCELAIN
NEXT DOOR TO MURDER
UNFINISHED PORTRAIT
A QUESTION OF IDENTITY
JUSTICE POSTPONED
RETRIBUTION
Other titles
BREATH OF BRIMSTONE
PRESENCE OF MIND
THE MACBETH PROPHECY
MOTIVE FOR MURDER
DANGEROUS DECEPTION
PAST SHADOWS
FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS
THICKER THAN WATER
SHIFTING SANDS
THE UNBURIED PAST
A TANGLED THREAD
SINS OF THE FATHERS
THE TIES THAT BIND
Anthea Fraser
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2021
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,
14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.
Trade paperback edition first published in Great Britain and the USA in 2022
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.
This eBook edition first published in 2021 by Severn House,
an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.
severnhouse.com
Copyright © Anthea Fraser, 2021
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Catriona McPherson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-5058-4 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-794-1 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0533-9 (e-book)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
This eBook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland
CHARACTER LIST
Rose Linscott
Fleur Tempest, her daughter
Owen Tempest, Fleur’s husband
Jess Tempest, their daughter
Cassie Tempest, their daughter
Verity Tempest, their daughter
Justin Linscott, Rose’s son
Kathryn Linscott, his wife
Patrick Linscott, their son
Amy Linscott, their daughter
Henry Parsons, Rose’s friend
Hilary Grant, Justin’s girlfriend
Dr Roger Price, Jess’s ex-boyfriend
Tasha Crombie, Patrick’s girlfriend
Rachel Firth, Jess’s friend
Jenny Barlow, a family friend
Ron Barlow, her husband
Freddie Barlow, their son
Gemma Barlow, their daughter
Tony and Lynn Dawson, Cassie’s godparents
Sue (Cassie’s godmother) and David Davenport
Stephen (Cassie’s godfather) and Holly Penrose
Maggie Haig, Jess’s flatmate
Maggie’s friends: Sarah, Di, Dominic, Connor and Laurence
ONE
Having removed dead blooms from the flower vase, Rose Linscott paused, as she often did, to glance through the window at her back garden and, beyond it, the roof of her previous home. It had been a wise decision, she reflected, turning it over to Fleur and Owen. Until three years ago they’d been living in Kent and she’d regretted missing the major part of her granddaughters’ childhoods. The eldest, Jessica, had already been in her late teens and Verity, the youngest, approaching hers.
Then, to her delighted surprise, Owen was appointed Deputy Head at St Catherine’s College, and they were faced with finding a home in this area. She had rattled around in her house since Malcolm’s death, so the obvious solution was to hand it over to them and find somewhere smaller for herself close by. Sandstone was always meant to be a family home and they’d been extremely grateful, both for the offer of the house and for the generously low price she’d asked for it. St Catherine’s-on-Sea was an expensive place to live.
Admittedly, it had not been her intention to be quite so close; she’d been looking at property a little farther down the coast when this bungalow in the next road came on the market, its garden actually backing on to hers, and she’d been unable to resist. Ironically, the houses themselves were screened from each other by a stand of tall evergreens that Malcolm had planted years ago to safeguard their privacy. It had been Fleur who’d suggested inserting a gate between the two gardens, ensuring that it was high enough to retain that privacy and with a bolt on Rose’s side. Though grateful for the thought, she’d elected not to use it till physically incapable of making her way by road – though she might claim the odd dispensation, such as for this evening. The longer route would prove challenging in her new shoes, and she was determined to wear them to Cassandra’s eighteenth. Justin and his family were coming up from Taunton and Jessica would be back from Bristol, where, partly to escape the attentions of an ex-suitor, she’d moved two months ago. It would be good to have the whole family together, a rare enough occasion these days. And, of course – sting in the tail – Jenny Barlow and her husband would be there.
Rose clicked her tongue, abandoned her musings and carried the watering can back to the kitchen. Enough of this wool-gathering; she must wrap her present and check all the creases had dropped out of her new dress.
Jess Tempest walked rapidly over the sand, its ridges digging unnoticed into her bare feet as her mind skittered helplessly in search of a solution. What should she do? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Oh God, what could she do, without – incredible thought – putting herself in danger? Why had she gone back to the flat after work? Might someone have seen her, or were they confident she had, as expected, already left for home?
The obvious course was to phone the police, but what could she tell them? The entire incident seemed ludicrous even to herself, and any evidence that might have supported her story had been removed with startling efficiency
. What was more, if by any remote chance the police did decide to investigate, it would be obvious to those involved who must have blown the whistle.
She came to a halt, gazing over the receding water, her sandals dangling from her hand. As always there was a strong breeze down here, lifting her hair and winding her thin skirt round her legs. She’d always loved this place, looking forward all year to summer holidays spent with her grandparents, and had been overjoyed when Dad’s appointment to the college led to their moving here. It had made her Bristol decision a difficult one, but the combination of eliminating the daily commute – which would be perilous in winter fogs – and removing herself from Roger’s importunities had won the day.
Even before today’s horror, though, she’d been having second thoughts about her living arrangements: Maggie wasn’t the easiest of flatmates and her lifestyle was very different from Jess’s own. She’d been looking on this weekend and the holiday that was to follow as a welcome break, possibly an opportunity to rethink her position, but now everything would be overshadowed by this gnawing fear. Why had she gone back? What did it matter if she’d forgotten her paperback? She could have bought another, for heaven’s sake, and spared herself this agonizing predicament.
She drew a deep breath, thankful that at least she wouldn’t be returning to Bristol for another two weeks. Tomorrow she and her friend Rachel were flying to Italy for a long-anticipated holiday and she’d have to rely on her news app to learn of any developments. Should anything emerge, it might at least indicate what, if any, action she should take.
Somewhere in the town a church clock chimed five. They’d be wondering where she was, and she still had to wash her hair before the party. No nearer a solution to her worries, Jess set off for home.
It was a warm June evening and the French windows were open to the garden, where most of the guests had drifted, glasses in hand, to stand in small groups exchanging news. Cassie, the centre of attention, looked lovely, Jenny Barlow thought fondly. Her dark hair was caught up on top of her head, pinned in place by a pink rose that, by either luck or design, exactly matched the fabric of her dress, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Eighteen! Jenny marvelled. Where had all those years gone?
She turned to share the thought with Ron but he’d disappeared, doubtless to refresh his drink, and, temporarily alone, she realized with a mild feeling of panic that apart from the Tempest family the only people she knew here were Lynn and Tony, whom at the moment she couldn’t see and who anyway, as Cassie’s godparents, were in a semi-official capacity. She had, of course, been introduced to everyone on arrival, but now couldn’t put a name to any of them. She should have paid more attention but she’d been too flustered. Was that tall, thin woman Fleur’s sister-in-law from Taunton or Cassie’s other godmother, whom she’d not seen since the christening and who’d apparently been Fleur’s bridesmaid? She recalled that for some reason Cassie also had two godfathers, so one of the men by the pond might be the other. But who was the young couple talking to Verity? Someone’s offspring?
Everyone except herself, it seemed, was engaged in conversation, and her sudden dread of being conspicuous triggered one of her wretched flushes, which began to scald her neck and creep up her face. Oh God, where was Ron? Why didn’t he come and rescue her?
Deliverance, however, arrived from another quarter. ‘Can I top you up, Auntie Jen?’
She turned gratefully to see Jess beside her, a jug of Pimm’s in her hand, and hastily recovered herself. ‘Thanks, love.’ She held out her glass and the evening sun struck prisms in the crystal. ‘I hear you’ve flown the coop,’ she went on, making an effort to appear at ease. ‘I don’t know Bristol; is it a good place to live?’
Jess’s hand jerked, splashing some liquid on her dress, but, brushing aside Jenny’s murmur of concern, she answered quickly, ‘It is, yes, and much more convenient for work.’ She smiled. ‘And after being away at uni, it seemed odd to be living at home again.’
‘I suppose it must have. Are you sharing?’
‘Yes, with another girl.’
‘A friend?’
‘No, I just answered an ad in the paper. It’s in a nice part of town and we get along OK.’
It didn’t sound a ringing endorsement, but before Jenny could question her further Jess had moved on to refresh someone else’s glass and a moment later her husband materialized at her side.
‘Think we’ll be eating soon?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘I’m famished!’
As if in answer, Fleur appeared in the doorway behind them and clapped her hands. ‘Supper’s ready in the dining room, if you’d like to come through and help yourselves.’
‘A buffet!’ Ron Barlow said disgustedly. ‘Fine for people with six hands!’
Jenny laughed, and, confidence restored, tucked her hand under his arm as they followed the others inside.
The evening seemed to be going well, Owen Tempest thought with satisfaction as he retrieved the bottles of champagne from the fridge. This was in fact the first of two celebrations, for family, godparents and a few close friends. Tomorrow there’d be a disco for Cassie’s contemporaries, a much less civilized affair, he suspected, to be held at the tennis club. No doubt it would provide a welcome break from the gruelling round of A-levels. The summer term was always fraught, since exams unfailingly coincided with attacks of hay fever, as well as any hot weather they were to be blessed with that year. And this was one of the hot ones.
Fleur came into the kitchen as he removed the last bottle. ‘I was about to take the cake through, but should they have the champagne first?’
‘We’ll synchronize. Is Tony ready with his speech?’
‘I hope so. Lynn said he hardly slept last night!’
‘As a barrister he should be used to public speaking.’ The Dawsons had been their next-door neighbours in Bromley and, though several years older than themselves, had become close friends. With no children of their own, they’d been delighted when asked to be Cassie’s godparents.
Fleur was silent as she watched her husband fill the flutes lined up on a tray. ‘Ma thinks Jess is looking pale,’ she observed then.
Owen bit back a retort. The one downside of his appointment at St Cat’s was that they’d moved into what he wryly thought of as his mother-in-law’s territory, open to her frequently expressed and often unwelcome opinions. Yet, he upbraided himself, she’d been more than generous in housing them.
‘Well, the Italian sun will soon cure that,’ he replied, deliberately taking the remark at face value.
‘Perhaps she’s having second thoughts about splitting with Roger,’ Fleur mused. ‘They’d been together a long time.’
‘And outgrown each other,’ Owen replied briskly. ‘Now, if you’re ready with the cake, darling, we can make our joint entrance.’
‘How’s my favourite cousin?’ Patrick Linscott enquired, carefully balancing the cake on his plate as he seated himself beside Jess on the staircase.
‘Hi, Patrick.’
‘I hear you’ve given that handsome young doctor his marching orders and left home?’
‘True on both counts but not, as you imply, cause and effect.’
Patrick raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Well, not entirely,’ Jess conceded. ‘Roger was being a bit of a pain, but, let’s face it, I’m too old to be living at home like a schoolgirl. It was time I spread my wings.’
‘And are you enjoying your independence?’ He took a bite of cake, clearly expecting an affirmative, and turned to look at her when it didn’t immediately come. Jess was staring reflectively into her wine glass. She and Patrick had always been close, exchanging childhood then teenage confidences, and she regarded him as the brother she’d never had. This was neither the time nor the place, but …
‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Not having second thoughts already?’
She straightened her shoulders and turned to face him. ‘Patrick, suppose someone happened to see something they weren’t
supposed to, something really worrying, but which could have serious repercussions if they reported it. What should they do?’
‘I trust this question is hypothetical?’
‘Of course,’ she answered steadily, holding his gaze.
‘Can you be a bit more specific about the something worrying?’
She hesitated, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Involving someone … dying.’
‘Whoa!’ His teasing smile vanished and he reached for her hand. ‘Jessie, what is this? You don’t …?’
‘Jess!’ a voice called. ‘Patrick! Where are you? Time for the family photo!’
Jess quickly freed her hand and stood up. ‘Our presence is required,’ she said, and ran down the remaining stairs and into the sitting room. Patrick sat staring after her for a moment before slowly coming to his feet and following her.
Ron Barlow glanced sideways at his wife as they joined the coast road.
‘Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’
Jenny smiled ruefully. ‘Bad enough! Danielle in the lions’ den!’
‘Oh, come on! Granted it was a challenge having to face them en masse, but Fleur was fine this evening, wasn’t she?’
‘She tried, I’ll grant her that, and it helped having Tony and Lynn there, but Mrs Linscott barely acknowledged me, the old battleaxe!’
‘Then let her stew!’ He drew a deep breath. ‘And now we can put it behind us and enjoy the rest of our holiday, which we’re both in need of.’
Since the Tempest family moved to Somerset three years ago, Jenny and Ron had spent their summer holidays at a resort just along the coast and had usually managed to see the family two or three times during their visit. Jenny still lamented the move; when they’d all lived in Bromley it had been easy to arrange seemingly accidental meetings, and the change in holiday plans had given rise to comments from their own children. It was many years since Freddie and Gemma had been on family holidays, but they still seemed to resent what they referred to as their parents’ ‘annual pilgrimage’ to see the Tempests.
‘It’s not as if Fleur and Owen were close friends,’ Gemma had flung at her. ‘It’s the girls you’re so hell-bent on seeing, isn’t it? Why, for God’s sake? Aren’t we enough for you?’ The query had lodged in Jenny’s memory, an ever-present hurt, and despite her guilty protestations the exchange hadn’t improved her always difficult relationship with her daughter. But nor had it stopped the Somerset ‘pilgrimage’.
The Ties That Bind Page 1