Victoria stiffened. She wasn’t prepared to find out his reaction to the news she was the head of EweSpeak. Or that she’d followed his every move from the moment he signed up to the network, and been responsible for creating publicity surrounding the death of Lacey and Todd.
‘I run my own business,’ she said, directing her attention to the bar. ‘Oh, look. We can go up to the carvery. I’ll get the boys.’ Relieved to have been called by the chef, she left the table and approached the two young pool players. ‘You look like you’re having fun.’ She smiled and offered Seth her hand. He thrust his cue in it and walked off.
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Noble.’ Rick took the cue and returned it to its rack. ‘He’s a bright kid. You know, for a four-year-old. He loves his technology.’
‘He does?’ It was news to her, but hearing the surprise in her voice, Victoria altered her intonation. ‘He does.’
‘He says you’re pretty good with computers. That you’re the boss in a big building in London and he isn’t sure, but he thinks you might work with sheep. His words.’ Rick’s smile was partnered with one of his shrugs. ‘Dad’s rubbish at all that stuff. We’re still not online. We need Tommy to come home and sort it.’
Victoria was quickly processing Rick’s stream of information: Seth had spoken about her. He understood her role at work, and EweSpeak was lodged in his memory banks. Thank goodness it had stayed there. Mental images of her dressed as Bo Peep were welcome, if it meant her role in her company was kept from Chris. At least until she’d worked out how to tell him without making herself sound like Annabel’s crazed stalker.
‘Tommy’s away?’ That surprised Victoria. She’d formed the impression the Framptons’ manager never left Chris’s side – his bleats suggested as much, and it was rare to catch footage without the two men standing cheek by jowl. He was certainly visible during the aftermath of the motorbike tragedy.
Victoria put her hand on Rick’s shoulder, and guided him to the food bar.
‘Yeah. He’s seeing friends,’ Rick said. ‘It’s a bummer. Dad can’t cook.’
‘No? I’m not much of one either.’
The conversation paused as they joined the queue for the carvery.
‘Looks like Dad’s getting along with Seth.’ Rick smiled and pointed to the front of the line.
Victoria raised her head and saw Chris settling Seth on to his hip. He nestled her son’s back in the crook of his arm, and pulled him in. Seth responded by resting his fingers on the back of Chris’s tanned neck.
They were pointing at the meats on the pass.
It looked so natural. Two pieces of Victoria’s puzzle she would never have put together, fitting so perfectly. It was a beautiful sight.
Not knowing if she was about to laugh or cry, Victoria covered her mouth.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Noble?’
‘Hiccups,’ she said, faking one for good measure. ‘Empty stomach.’
She collected two plates and passed one to Rick. ‘Seth will have the turkey,’ she whispered. ‘With carrots and potatoes, and he’ll drown it in gravy.’
‘Dad will go for the beef. With everything. Apart from broccoli.’ Rick shuffled along the line.
‘What’s wrong with broccoli?’
‘We hate it. Mom used to make us eat it. When she wasn’t looking, Todd would scrape his onto Dad’s plate. He got away with it every time.’
‘What did your dad do?’
‘He ate it.’ Rick laughed, causing Chris to turn round and raise a questioning eyebrow.
Victoria smiled and waved for him to concentrate on collecting his food. ‘That was sweet of him. And what about you? Did you pass yours to your dad, too?’
‘No. I couldn’t do that to him. Anyway, it pleased Mom to see us eat well. It made her happy.’
On the occasions Victoria was in charge of mealtimes, there was always a battle; always a refusal from Seth to eat what was put in front of him. She’d be happy too, if he ate well. He devoured everything Cerys dished up. Victoria sighed. ‘Can you pass on your good habits to Seth?’
‘I’ll try, Ma’am.’
The wild wind of earlier had settled into a brisk breeze, and the sea presented nothing more than a few trotting ponies, rather than herds of charging white horses. Despite her initial reluctance, Victoria allowed Chris to talk her into a walk along the beach. The boys, being boys, ran ahead. They were seen disappearing through the hedge into the Hope Cove grounds.
‘Who’d have thought?’ said Chris, pulling his jacket tight. ‘There’s a what? Eight … nine year age gap between them? They’ve totally hit it off. Mind you, Seth’s a cracking little lad. He says the funniest things. I can see why Rick likes him.’
‘I think that’s more to do with Rick being a kind and thoughtful young man,’ Victoria said. ‘He’s considerate of other’s feelings.’ Did that sound bitter? She hadn’t meant it to. Chris wasn’t acting offended, but she wasn’t sure she could tell if he was. Their past was a long time ago, and they were different people now.
What she knew about Chris Frampton, actor, was either made up by the press, or presented by Chris’s PR team. She knew what he wanted her and three million others to know, like all the celebrities on EweSpeak’s books.
He used to be spontaneous, vibrant, exciting – everything Victoria wasn’t. He injected energy and enthusiasm into life. ‘If it’s not worth doing properly, it’s not worth doing at all,’ he used to say, adding, ‘and if you do a good job, expect appreciation and success to follow.’ He was so sure of himself. So certain he’d achieve. He allowed nothing to get in the way of what he wanted. Including Victoria.
Yes. Her comment was bitter. Chris had used her and then dumped her for a life of fame and fortune in LA. Before he hit thirty, he was seen as a perfect husband, a wonderful father, and one of the most influential stunt actors in Hollywood. At eighteen, Victoria had been discarded like litter, thrown on the pebbles, and washed underneath. Shortly after she hit thirty, she was a deserted island.
‘Vicky? Victoria? I was saying, I worry about Rick. He stores stuff up, you know. He rarely mentions Lacey or Todd. I’ve done everything in my power to get him to come to terms with the accident, but I can’t get through. I thought I was making some headway when we first arrived here, but it was a one-off. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t cry. I’d forgotten what his laugh sounds like until today. Can you imagine that? He must be hurting. I’m his father, and I should be able to help. I feel so inadequate.’
Inadequate was Victoria’s area of expertise, first as a lover, then as a wife, and now as a mother; a state to which she had grown accustomed. But Chris, inadequate? She hadn’t expected to hear that.
‘These last two years have been so hard on him. He withdrew from his friends, he stopped going to school, and he shut himself away in his room. He wasn’t living. I decided to move back once the inquest was through. I had to do something. Anything to break the cycle, you know? It’s early days, but this needs to work. Has to work. Otherwise …’ Chris froze, casting his eyes and his words out to sea.
Victoria stood beside him not knowing what to say. His body language indicated inadequate didn’t cover all he was experiencing. His hunched shoulders and bowed head suggested useless, helpless, and worthless were nearer the mark, but Victoria kept the thought to herself; saying it out loud would convince Chris he was right, and he was anything but.
In that moment who he used to be became irrelevant. Who he was now was all that mattered, and Victoria discovered he was alone and lost. Desperate. He was a grieving widower who’d outlived one son, and was searching for ways to fix his surviving boy, no matter what the personal cost. He was a man to whom failure was not an option, and Victoria understood that. It made Chris a hundred times the hero portrayed by the media. It made Chris a man she wanted to help. If she was to succeed, she had to
let the past go. All of it.
She swallowed the bitter pill of betrayal, accepting that given time it would work its way out of her system, and she could flush it away with all the other rubbish she’d fermented over the years.
She had consumed, rather than continue to be consumed.
She edged closer to Chris, and with her heart pounding in her head, wrapped a conciliatory arm around him.
Chapter Fourteen
With a violent jerk, Chris freed himself and stepped aside. ‘What are you doing?’ He glared at Victoria, clenched a hand where hers had been, and gritted his teeth, blocking the surge of anger from overflowing. He should yell at her, ask her who the hell she thought she was; demand to know what right she had to touch him, but the look of sheer horror plastered across her face was preventing him. As was his prickling conscience.
He had overreacted and scared her, and for that he was sorry, but the last woman to lay hands on him was Lacey. He’d carried that feeling for two years, cherishing it, sustaining it, remembering the warmth of her embrace and the depth of her kiss. It was a perfect memory of a perfect moment; the final time he’d set her free. The final time she’d loved him.
And now it was gone.
But there were other reasons for his anger: Lacey would never forgive him if she knew he’d welcomed Victoria’s hold, and he was cross with himself for wanting to be cared for, because that meant he was betraying his wife. He couldn’t explain that to Victoria.
He removed his hand and studied his palm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t come back for this. For you.’ He shoved both hands in his pockets. ‘And I don’t want anything from you. Not for me.’ He chanced a look at Victoria. Her horror had been replaced with wide-eyed astonishment. So extreme was her expression, Chris faltered. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I should have kept my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t asking for comfort. No one can give me that.’
He lowered his head, turned into the wind, and headed up the beach, praying Victoria wouldn’t follow. He released a forceful breath when he heard the hollow scuffling of pebbles. ‘I’ll get Rick to bring Seth home later,’ he said, hoping to cut Victoria off at the pass.
‘I prefer to collect him now.’
Her concise words and terse tone informed Chris there was no point arguing. He motioned for her to go ahead, but she pulled alongside and maintained his pace. He braced himself for what was bound to be a bollocking.
‘Is this what Hollywood does to a man? Turns him into an arrogant, narcissistic prat? I was offering you support. Showing you you’re not alone. Nothing else.’
An elderly couple walking towards them, watched with fascination as they passed by.
Chris scraped his fingers through his hair. ‘Vicky, seriously, I can’t deal with this now.’ Her hug had set in motion a huge ball of confusion; memories of their past, how good it was to be loved by her; thoughts of Lacey and how much he loved her. Shame. Duplicity. It was one enormous mass, rolling around his head.
Victoria steamed on. ‘Ten minutes ago I was prepared to forgive because I saw a different man to the one who deceived me seventeen years ago. I saw a loving father whose sole purpose in life was to help his son live again. I believed that was who you’d grown into. But you’ve not changed one bit. It’s all about you, isn’t it? And once again, you tricked me. Well, congratulations. You are truly a great actor.’
Chris snorted. Tricked her? Deceived her? He drew breath to ask what the hell she was on about, and then decided against it. He needed to be away from her, not engage with her. Life was complicated enough. ‘Get your boy and go home.’
‘My boy? My cracking little lad who was happier in your arms than mine? You think he’ll come willingly? He doesn’t listen to a word I say. He kicks and spits at me, he swears and throws apples in my face, and he can’t even call me mum. And do you know why? Because you damaged me. You battered my emotions, and screwed them into the ground. And I couldn’t bear it. I took refuge in my work, and disconnected from the real world. I threw everything into making my business a success, and because of that, I have a failed marriage and a son who hates me.’
She came to a sudden standstill, bent double and threw up. It splashed off the shingle and onto Chris’s trousers. As she straightened up, Victoria cuffed her mouth, and closed her eyes. ‘You know what? If I could go home, I would, but in case you’d forgotten, the bloody ceiling’s collapsed.’ She looked at Chris. ‘I’m going to the craft shop. Ask Rick to bring Seth there before it’s dark.’ She kicked some loose stones over her sick, apologised for catching Chris’s legs, and took off.
He watched her leave the beach, the mad, passionate, turning-his-world-upside-down-woman, who had more issues than The Beano. He’d heard everything she’d said, but it knocked about inside his head like an iron clapper. ‘This is going to take some sorting,’ he muttered.
Now back at the castle, the boys were camped out in Rick’s room, and Chris was sitting in his uncomfortable porter’s chair in the conservatory, seeking answers from the trees. They weren’t held accountable for anything. Except for when a gale knocked them over and they crashed through someone’s roof.
That’s how he was feeling – as if he’d been tossed around in a tornado and spat into a whole new world. Dorothy, he wasn’t. Tin man, maybe. At least he understood the value of a heart. As for the Wicked Witch of the West … He couldn’t tell if Vicky held him responsible for her failings, or if she was knee-jerking at his rebuff. Telling him he was a selfish father hurt, but he realised that was the point. She was biting back, with the jaws of a lion.
He fidgeted, first by pushing his spine into the chair and then by crossing and uncrossing his legs. Everything was uncomfortable; his position, his situation, and his conscience. Among a whole list of misdemeanours, Vicky … Victoria accused him of deception and self-absorption. And somewhere in her tangled web of words, she’d declared he was responsible for everything bad in her life. That wasn’t possible. He’d lived in America for the past seventeen years, and he’d left Vicky in a good place. And anyway, it had been her decision to cut off all communication. His dad was very clear on that.
‘She said she’s not interested in a long-distance relationship,’ his dad had said during Chris’s first phone call home. ‘And staying in touch would be pointless, especially since you two have run your course.’
Chris had been shocked by Vicky’s response, convinced she’d spoken the words in bitterness, but his father said not. ‘Hurt women are never that blasé about love. And to think she was the reason you almost gave up your dream. Lucky I sent your forms off.’
‘Yeah. Would seem so.’ Love had changed everything for Chris. He’d set aside his application for summer work in the US. He’d set aside his dream to study acting in an American university. He’d set aside his future. All to stay with Vicky Paveley.
‘You’re destined for great things, my son,’ his dad added. ‘And you’ll find true love, like your mum and I did. And it’ll be with someone worthy of you.’
Chris thought Vicky was that woman, so to be disposed of with a verbal wave of the hand was heartbreaking.
Vicky … Victoria accusing him of deception and self-absorption didn’t make sense. The only deception he was guilty of was pretending to forget her.
‘Hey, Dad. I’m going to take Seth home.’
Chris rose from the chair, stretched his back, and smiled at the boys, who were lingering in the doorway. ‘You ready?’
‘Yes,’ said Seth. ‘I’m going to Livia’s.’
‘Should I come too?’ Chris directed the question at Rick.
‘You’re okay, Dad. I can manage. I’ll wait until Seth’s gone in before I head back.’
‘Go on then. Get a move on. Your mum will be waiting.’
‘Yes, but I’m going to see Livia. Livia’s nice,’ said Seth. ‘She likes me.’
Choosing to ignore the implication that Victoria didn’t, Chris said, ‘That’s good. I like you too. If your mum says you can come and visit again, that’s fine by me. You’re very welcome here.’
He crouched down and offered his hand, expecting Seth to shake it. Instead, he was almost knocked off his feet as the four-year-old launched himself at him. ‘Wow. Good hug,’ Chris said, squeezing Seth to him. ‘You are the man.’ As they broke apart, Chris raised a palm for a high five. Seth stared at him.
Rick stepped forward. ‘Like this.’ He indicated for Chris to stand. Both men put their arms in the air and smacked their hands together, ending the ritual with a firm grip of each other’s fingers. ‘It’s called a high five.’
Seth glanced from Chris to Rick, and back to Chris, put his hands in his pockets, and smiled. ‘You’re funny.’
‘Oh, yeah? Well, you’re funnier.’ Chris pulled a face and ruffled Seth’s hair. ‘Go on. Off you go. See you later, buddy.’
He nodded at Rick, who guided Seth from the room.
There was constant chatter between the boys from leaving the conservatory, to the front door slamming shut, and it lightened Chris’s heart. The change in Rick was astounding. His four-year-old friend possessed a quality the highly-paid, highly-qualified professionals lacked. Chris couldn’t identify what it was, but he wanted Seth to visit, if Victoria allowed. Chances were slim.
But it wasn’t only Seth that Rick got along with; Chris had seen his son deep in conversation with Victoria too, and they’d shared a joke. A joke! It remained to be seen if it was a one-off, or if Rick related to her in some way.
Chris leaned against the door frame and drummed his fingers on the jamb. What would he have to do to get Victoria on board? That was the question he was leading to before he was forced to take cover from her verbal Gatling gun. He doubted Victoria would respond to the waving of a white flag right now. The mood she was in, she’d shoot holes in it until it resembled a second-hand paper doily.
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