NOT ON THE GUEST LIST
Pearl was in a better frame of mind when Mia dropped her back at the hotel, amusing herself by repeating Sister Agnes’s story over and over throughout the journey.
“Ross will be impressed, he didn’t learn anything about treasure and the Pope being kidnapped in his boring old business school.”
“I bet he didn’t,” Mia agreed, pulling up to the entrance.
Pearl opened the car door. “Is there a safe in Galty House?”
Mia thought for a moment. There was, Archie had one installed when he won the Oscar, although Oscar had always resided on Archie’s bathroom shelf, where he could see him.
“Why?” Mia wondered what was coming.
“Can you put my project there, please?”
“Aren’t there safety deposit boxes in the hotel?”
“Things seem to be breaking down a lot, what if I couldn’t get it open again?” She handed her folder over. “I can trust you?”
Mia nodded gravely. Now she was going to have to locate the safe and if she could open it, heaven knows what she might find.
Ross was sealing off the elevators. He was wearing an old shirt, sleeves rolled up, jeans and trucker boots. One of the subterranean suites had sprung a leak, structural engineers were working frantically to remedy the problem but it was getting worse, Ross was beginning to despair.
“Hey!” He lifted Pearl into his arms, twirling her round. “I was about to send out a search party.”
“I was at an appointment.” Pearl replied, her mother’s usual excuse for being AWOL.
“With whom?” He scowled.
“Personal.”
Another of her mother’s favourites.
“Ross!”
They looked up as Christie Power strode into reception.
“Uncle Christie! I didn’t know you’d be back so soon?”
Ross quickly placed Pearl back on terra firma.
“Surprise visit, figured you needed a hand. Brought a few of the guys with me, see if we can help?” Three men in sharp suits appeared behind him.
Great, Ross thought, the heavy mob.
“You’ve made a report?” Christie asked, smiling at Pearl who was wearing a typical Ross scowl.
“Just about to,” Ross confirmed.
“Okay, we’ll check in, grab some lunch and meet you in the boardroom, say about two o’clock?” Staff magically appeared. “Now, young lady, how about you wash up and come join your old uncle for lunch? I need your take on the place, what are the facilities like for someone your age?”
“Do I get ice cream?” Pearl was no pushover.
“Of course,” Christie laughed.
“Extra chocolate sauce?”
“We’ll have to see about that.” Christie was no pushover either.
Ross turned towards his office, reception seemed suddenly full of people.
“Mia Flanagan? Lives nearby, silly of me, lost the exact address.” Cut-glass English accent, tall good-looking guy, perfectly turned out in retro tweed and a too new Barbour. Ross swung back, crossing the marble floor, hand extended.
“Good afternoon sir, checking in?”
“Not quite sure, flying visit and all that.” The man gave Ross a disparaging look.
“I’m Ross Power, CEO, a hands on role today.” Ross replied warmly, indicating his attire.
“Then you’ll definitely know who I mean, I’m looking for Mia Flanagan, staying close by, Archie Fitzgerald’s place, I believe?”
Ross considered him; high cheekbones, aquiline nose; an actor, he had to be. He felt his stomach twist.
“Friend of hers?” he asked, loathing his accent; he sounded like a cowboy.
“My fiancée, actually.” The man gave a slight smile. “I’m Rupert Boniver, you may have heard of me.” He handed Ross a card, mainly a photograph of himself, looking fabulous.
“Can’t say I have.” Ross handed him one of his own business cards. “That’s me. Is Miss Flanagan expecting you?” For some reason Ross was defensive.
“Surprise visit.” Rupert put a finger to his lips. “Strictly on the QT.”
“I bet,” Ross said, walking away. “Can someone look after this gentleman please?”
Mia looked everywhere but could not find the safe. Was it in an outbuilding? The summerhouse maybe, the old stables? She remembered it was made of metal, must have weighed a tonne … she was just about to give up, when she noticed the cellar door slightly ajar.
Pushing it open, she scrabbled for the light switch, waiting for her eyes to adjust before tackling steep steps leading down. It smelled musty and damp. Another thing for my list, she thought, focusing on the practical and not how much this place used to scare her.
A flickering strip light barely illuminated the shadowy space but she could see it was a total tip, piled high with battered boxes and broken furniture. Pools of water gathered in corners and the walls were covered in slime. Dismayed Mia was about to retreat when she noticed a large cupboard. She walked towards it, feet squelching and there half-hidden behind stacks of newspaper was the safe, a neat oblong of solid steel.
Crouched in front of the cabinet, black with a gold plate bearing the manufacturer’s name, Mia saw a combination lock and two keyholes, one top, one bottom. She tried the handle, locked. She tried again. Waste of time. She looked around, she really did not like it here.
What was that? A rustle. Rats? She hated rats … time to go.
Starting for the steps, something shifted close by. She tried not to look. Something definitely moved again. She squawked and running for the stairs slipped and cracked her knee. She grabbed the handrail, climbing as fast as she could, trying not to fall. Nearly there, nearly at the top. She was sure she had left the door open but the door was closed and a tall dark figure stood in front of it.
Her heart leapt to her mouth.
“There you are, darling.” The eloquent voice. He grinned down at her, eyes piercing the gloom.
Her skin prickled.
Something ran up the steps behind her; furry, damp, brushing her leg. She screamed and pushed past him, flying through the door into the hall, collapsing on the floor.
“Jesus, Rupert you scared me half to death!” she clutched her chest. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at!?”
Rupert stood, glaring down at her.
“I might well ask you the same fucking question,” he replied.
Something splashed her leg. She jumped. It was the cat, shaking water from its paws, water from the cellar.
“You should have called.” Mia handed Rupert a mug. He was at the window, looking out across the garden, down to the beach.
“Nice spot,” he said. “And you’ve inherited all this?”
“It’s complicated.”
“But it is yours.” He strode the length of the kitchen, looking at pictures, eyeing the silver, lifting crystal off shelves.
“Do you mind!” She took a Georgian ladle from him.
“Just curious,” he shrugged. “Well, you have fallen on your feet haven’t you? From barely able to afford to live, to this. Nice one. Who was the old guy? I mean I know who he was, but what was he to you? Your father?”
“None of your business.” She was uncomfortable.
“That’s what everyone’s saying.”
“Everyone?”
“In the business. Saying they always thought it was the case but now he’s left everything to you, proves the point.” He had abandoned his coffee.
“Actually, Rupert, someone very close to me has just died, it’s not just some old guy who’s left me stuff.” She was cross now. “What do you want anyway?”
He raised an eyebrow. This was a new Mia. He had not seen this one before; the meek-mannered, ‘grateful for everything’ girl he knew seemed to have disappeared. He quite liked this new feisty one; she would be good in bed. He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine and poured himself a drink.
“Help yourself, why don’t you?” M
ia said, putting the bottle back. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here. But I’m tired, so finish your wine and go, okay?”
“I came to be with my girl. Find out why she abandoned me, why she locked me out of my apartment, threw all my worldly goods away and pissed off leaving me with absolutely, fucking nothing. That’s why I’m here, you stupid bitch.” He smiled at her over his glass. Mia opened the door.
“Go. I’ve heard enough.”
“Really? Well, think again.” Rupert drained his glass. “You owe me. You made a right fool of me, carrying on like some wounded Victorian virgin left at the altar. You knew where you stood, we both did. Free agents, no commitments. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is I came home, and you were in bed with another woman.”
“So?” Rupert lifted his eyebrows.
“What do you mean so, with another woman, in my bed … so?” She was not going to be riled, it was over but she could feel the heat rising from her throat.
“You totally overreacted. No reason to change the locks, throw my stuff away. What were you thinking? I’d no money, nowhere to stay, didn’t even have a change of underwear for fuck’s sake.”
He was angry with her. She could not believe it.
“Rupert, we were engaged!”
“Mia, we were not!”
It was as if she had been slapped. She clung to the table to steady herself.
“But … you proposed, made the rings, we talked about our wedding in Tuscany?”
“Oh, please. Pissed-up on location, yeah of course. Grow up, Mia for God’s sake.” He went back to the fridge. She stood in front of it.
“I want you to go, now.” She folded her arms.
“Not until you give me what you owe me, including compensation. I know I didn’t get that part because your stupid mother told the director she wouldn’t work with me. You owe me big time. And now you have plenty.” He indicated the house. “Well, you can put some of it my way.”
“No chance.” She eyeballed him, brazening it out, her heart was thumping. This was lunacy. She was alone in the house with her crazy ex-boyfriend and she was frightened. If she called for help, no one would hear her. No one would come. Her brain went into overdrive.
“Look, Rupert, I get where you’re coming from but if we’re going to sort something out it needs doing properly. A formal arrangement, binding, that kind of thing.” She kept talking, she needed time to think, get this madman out of her house and out of her life, once and for all.
Rupert gave her a slow smile. “That’s more like it, I knew you’d see sense.”
She went to the sink, filled a glass with water and drank.
“It’s just a bit of a shock seeing you here with all that’s been going on. I need some air, do you mind?” She went to the door.
“No, not at all, a walk on the beach, good idea. We can talk things through, I can tell you how much you need to transfer from your bank account into mine.” His eyes had softened a little, the way they did when he knew he was getting his own way.
As they went through the door into the garden, Mia quickly slid the key from the ledge and locked it, running to catch up with Rupert. She was not going to let him back in under any circumstances.
“All this,” he kept saying. “You own all this.”
Mia kept her eyes fixed ahead, the beach was grey, the sea flat.
“I don’t need to stay at that expensive hotel then.” Rupert stood looking back at Galty House. “Plenty of room here, bet you have a nice big double bed too, don’t you, lovely girl.”
Mia pushed her hands into her pockets, desperate to hide the fact that she was trembling and scared; very scared indeed.
CHAMPIONS AWAIT
Ross was not sure why he felt the urgent need to go to Galty House but something was bothering him. Rupert Boniver was bothering him, probably none of his business but he would call by just in case.
The hire car was in the drive and the hall door was ajar. Ross called out. No response. Closing the door he went quickly through the gate to the garden. No one there. Jogging along the path he checked the summerhouse. Deserted.
At the top of the steps, he stopped. Mia was on the beach with the English guy, they were in a clinch. He had his arms around her, mouth at her throat. Ross turned away.
If he had arrived minutes earlier he might have overheard the conversation.
“So how much did you get? This lot must be worth an absolute bloody fortune.” Rupert had been standing at the water’s edge looking back at the house.
“Like I said, it’s complicated. Nothing settled yet.”
“Well, when you find a calculator big enough to add it all up, I’d be very interested, very interested indeed.” Rupert’s barely disguised greed made her nauseous. “You know, Mia, I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us. A stupid misunderstanding, that’s all it was, you got the wrong end of the stick and now look at us.” He raised his hands despairingly.
“It was a bit more than that,” she told him.
“It wasn’t.” He stood beside her. “It was a mistake, it meant nothing and you chose to call it a day, no discussion, explanation. Not even a hint of a second chance.” He gave her a soulful look. “And that’s what hurts the most, Mia, you just threw what we had away.”
Here we go, she thought. Mia had lived around actors all her life, she knew when they were turning it on.
“What we had was special.” He took her fingers in his hands. “I’ve been out of my mind since you left. You never returned my calls, anything could have happened to you.”
“I lost my phone.”
“A second chance, surely I’m worth that, we’re worth that?” He tilted her chin upwards, brushing her mouth with his lips. She stepped away. He placed his hand in the small of her back, drawing her to him.
“Rupert … I …”
“Don’t, my darling, don’t say another word. I’ve missed you so much, want you so much.” His mouth was at her throat.
“Stop!” she cried, pushing him away.
“Not playing hard to get are you?”
He lunged at her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight.
“You know how that turns me on.”
He pushed his tongue into her ear, nipped at her lobe. She struggled. He was hurting her. She struggled again. He was holding her so tightly, her arm was about to break.
Mia did not see where the punch came from. She just saw a fist fly through the air and land Rupert an almighty crack on the jaw. He released her. She watched wide eyed as he staggered backwards, while Ross pushed her to one side and in the same movement flung another jab at Rupert’s perfect nose. It spliced. Blood spurted everywhere. Rupert gave an almighty yelp as almost in slow motion he fell into the cold, dark sea. He yelped again as he hit the water and a gentle wave washed over him and his nice new clothes.
“Now.” Ross was calm. “Get up and get out.”
Rupert pulled himself up and stood there swaying.
“You’ve broken my fucking nose,” he spluttered, his now not so handsome face covered in blood and sand.
“Get out before I break your fucking neck.” Ross did a perfect imitation of Rupert’s accent.
“You’d better go, Rupert,” Mia said, her voice trembling.
“You fucking bitch!” Rupert snarled, lurching towards her.
Ross moved swiftly to stand between them, his arms folded.
Rupert tried another lunge at Mia. Ross slapped his hands away. Rupert tried again, gagging on blood from his nose. Ross pushed him away, spinning him round.
“Now go! Get out of here, I won’t tell you again.”
“You’ve not heard the last of this,” Rupert tried.
“GO!” Ross roared.
Rupert started to walk away. He turned back.
“I’ll have you for this, this is grievous bodily harm.” He wagged a bloodied finger. “You see if I don’t, you bastard.”
“Yeah, and I’ll have y
ou for breaking and entering and attempted rape, you see if I don’t,” Ross called back, watching until Rupert staggered out of sight. Finally he turned to Mia. “You okay?”
She looked totally drained but weirdly was about to laugh.
“What?” He was trying not to smile. “What’s so funny?” He rubbed his throbbing hand.
“That sounded like Dick Van Dyke.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Ross asked. “Your American accent’s hardly authentic.”
“You’ve never heard my American accent.” She laughed.
“I don’t have to.” He was grinning at her.
“Well, excuse me for interrupting all this beach buddiness,” boomed a craggy voice. “But I haven’t got all day, Irish dancing on Thursday, you should know that.”
It was Sister Agnes, incongruous in slacks and her favourite Fleadh Cheoil festival sweatshirt.
Minutes later they were standing in the hall at Galty House.
Sister Agnes had refused a glass of whiskey, she was clearly on a mission.
“Much as I’d love to, I can’t stay but something you said the other day, Maeve, has been bothering me.”
“Maeve?” Ross mouthed, pulling a face, she tried to ignore him.
Sister Agnes dragged her saddlebag off her shoulder.
“I kept thinking about those love beads, the sort the girls used to make in Arts and Crafts, before fecking computers sucked all the creativity out of the place. Anyway, I remembered the photos. And I remembered who had them.”
Mia was intrigued. “Who?”
“Archie and Humphrey. They stole them, actually. But I’ve a soft spot for Humphrey and Archie’s family, so I said nothing. When Sister Simeon died sure, no one cared about the seminary, been closed for over thirty years.” She pulled a bunch of keys from her bag, handing them to Mia. “And then I remembered these, I haven’t a clue what they open, but Archie gave them to me around the time you were born, well, at your baptism actually …”
That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel Page 31