‘His mother’s son. Contaminated by her. Tainted through and through.’
‘You’re saying he was no good because of his mother.'
‘No escaping the genes.’
Joe whispered, ‘You have to be joking,’ though everything in Mr Chetwood’s manner suggested otherwise.
‘It’s a known fact! You city people haven’t a clue. What d’you think bloodstock’s all about? What d’you think farming’s all about? It’s about genes. Good genes, bad genes.’ He stabbed a forefinger into the air. ‘And the bad will always out.’
‘I have to say that words completely fail me.’
‘In which case we have nothing more to discuss, do we?’
With a final lift of his chin, he marched out into the passage.
The anger raced through Joe’s veins like a drug. He felt hot and sick and close to violence. Following hard on the other man’s heels, it was all he could do not to shout out. No chance this bad blood came from your side of the family? No stray relatives who don’t quite match up? Instead, he said in a voice that was all over the place, ‘What about Jamie’s mother, Mr Chetwood? Perhaps you could tell me where to find her family?’
The older man strode on into the hall, heels tapping a furious tattoo on the flags.
‘His mother’s family?’ Joe demanded at something approaching full volume, not caring if the entire house, the entire world, could hear him.
The front door was flung open. ‘Good day, Mr McCarthy.’
‘It’s McGrath with a G and no y. Okay? McGrath. And I was asking about his mother’s family.’
‘Get out!’
‘Just a simple question.’
The mouth quivered, the eyes bulged. ‘Try the sink holes of South America. That’s where she came from. And doubtless that’s where she returned.’
Abruptly, Mr Chetwood’s focus shifted, his eyes fixed on a point beyond Joe’s right ear. Following his gaze, Joe saw a girl standing in the dining-room doorway, a tray of glasses in her hands. She was a grown-up version of one of the pony-riding girls in the photographs. Utterly motionless, she was staring at her father with an expression of exasperation.
When Joe got into the car he found he was still trembling.
He gripped the wheel so hard he might have been trying to wrench it off. ‘You bastard!’ He tried the words at different pitches and in different voices, roaring them, hissing them, growling them. ‘You absolute bastard!’ Then, starting the car with a violent twist of the key, he muttered, ‘You poor damn bastard,’ and this time he was talking about Chetwood.
Reversing out, he left plenty of gravel on the flowerbeds and was already touching a stupid speed by the time he shot through the cone of a floodlight fixed high on the corner of the stable yard. He caught a flicker of movement somewhere beyond the light, but in the heavy dusk he couldn’t make it out until he looked in the driver’s mirror and saw a figure running out onto the track and staring after him.
It was the girl.
He stopped and reversed back to her.
She came to the passenger window and said simply, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her face was in shadow.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it.’
‘No - it’s his blind spot.’
‘That’s fairly obvious.’
‘Look, there’s tea and coffee in the tack room, if you’d like some.’
Joe drove into the yard, catching the eyes of the ancient labrador in his headlights.
‘My mother told me who you were,’ the girl announced as he climbed out. ‘And why you’d come.’
The labrador lumbered alongside her as she set a cracking pace along a line of looseboxes. Joe caught the smell of horses and the rustle of shifting hooves. The girl opened a door and turned on a bright overhead light to reveal a neat tack room, with bridles and reins and various other horse apparel hanging in orderly rows around the walls. With a bubbly laugh, she called, ‘The coffee’s disgusting, I’m afraid.’ Striding across the room at the same determined pace, she crashed a kettle into the sink. ‘Unless you want tea - workman’s grunge.’ Turning, she bounded back with an apologetic grin. ‘I’m Kate. Jamie’s sister, in case you hadn’t guessed.’
He had guessed all right; what he had failed to appreciate was how pretty she was in a china-doll-like way. She had smooth clear skin, a small upturned nose, wavy golden hair cut short, and a bow-shaped mouth, while her big blue eyes rolled with fun and gaiety.
She laughed, ‘He used to talk about you.’
‘Good, bad or indifferent?’
She giggled infectiously, and he had the feeling she giggled a lot. ‘Certainly not bad, anyway.’
Joe said, ‘I have to say he never told me anything about you. Any of you.’
Matching his mood instantly, she made a troubled face.
‘That doesn’t entirely surprise me. He had a miserable time of it here, I’m afraid. He and Pa were always getting on each other’s nerves. They were always having rows.’
‘But your father - he was so utterly scathing.’
‘I know! He’s completely off the planet about it, just won’t listen. I did try to talk to him about it once, I did try and tell him how much we hated having Jamie banned from the house, but he absolutely refused to talk about it. He just got into the most terrible state. Shivering and shaking. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Mummy did try to warn me. She said the subject was dynamite.’
‘But this talk of genes and bad blood - I thought that went out with the Third Reich.’
The big blue eyes widened further, the eyelids fluttered uncertainly. ‘Absolutely. Coffee all right?’ She went back to the sink and took some mugs off a shelf. ‘Look, I’m not making any apologies for Pa. No way. But for him it’s all hopelessly wrapped up with Jamie’s mother and their breakup. Milk? It’s only powdered.’
‘Black, thanks.’
‘Look, I don’t know the full story. Only what I’ve picked up over the years. The one thing Mummy told me - apart from saying I must never ever talk about it - was that Pa’s heart had been broken very badly. That it took him years to get over it.
But then someone else told me it was Pa who’d behaved badly.
Well, she said “like an idiot” - which boils down to the same thing, doesn’t it?’ Kate brought the mugs over to a workbench under the window and, pulling out two stools, waited for Joe to climb up next to her. ‘But if I believe anyone, it’s my godmother Rosie. She’s a writer, you see. About plants. But she’s terribly clever with people too.’
Watching her in profile, Joe thought how strange it was that Chetwood should resemble his father, while Kate, in all her china-doll prettiness, bore not the slightest likeness.
Kate turned her huge eyes back on him. ‘Evidently Pa adored her, was absolutely besotted by her. Her name was Catarina. He met her when he was nineteen, working on a ranch in Brazil.’ From the awe and enchantment in her voice, it might have been a fairy-tale, and for an instant, imagining the pampas, it almost was for him as well.
‘She was very beautiful,’ Kate continued breathlessly.
‘Warm and passionate and outgoing. Quite dazzling, according to Rosie. It was love at first sight for Pa. He pursued her, absolutely wouldn’t let her go, and they married when Pa was twenty-one. Grandpa still ran the farm in those days, so Pa and Catarina went and managed a farm near Gloucester. Then when Jamie was only one it all went wrong.’ Two tiny furrows sprang up between her eyebrows, her voice sank to a sigh.
‘Rosie says that Pa put Catarina on this pedestal and he couldn’t forgive her for not living up to this impossible dream he had of her. She was very quick and funny, Rosie says, but she used to tease Pa, and he couldn’t take it. She used to tell him he was being silly and laugh at him, and he went and turned against her. And ended up hating her.’
‘What happened to Catarina?’
‘She went back to South America. Rosie thinks Grandpa gave her money on the condition she never came b
ack. She ended up marrying some incredibly rich guy anyway, with lots of houses and yachts.’
‘And Chetwood - why didn’t she take him with her?’
‘Is that what you call him - ChetwoodY The laughter threatened to bubble up again.
‘Always have.’
She shook her head and giggled.
‘So he was left behind?’ Joe prompted.
Instantly, Kate was serious again. ‘I think it was part of the deal, that she should leave him behind. Poor Jamie - it would have been far better if he’d gone. Look, I have no idea how true this is,’ she said with elaborate caution. ‘I was told by someone who isn’t always totally reliable, but’ - the luminous eyes came up to meet Joe’s again - ‘this person said that everything was fine between Pa and Jamie at the beginning, after Catarina left, that Pa was really sweet with him, but when he reached three or four and got rather cheeky and began to look like Catarina, then Pa couldn’t stand it. He saw it as the worst of Catarina coming back to haunt him. And, well…’
Her eyes grew rounder still. ‘According to this friend. Pa began to tell everyone that Jamie wasn’t even his.’
‘But the likeness - you can’t miss it.’
‘I’m afraid Pa isn’t very logical on the subject of Jamie. All I remember when I was very young was this big cloud that seemed to hang over poor Jamie’s head. He always seemed to be in trouble.’
‘But he had you, at least.’
‘Oh, we were pretty useless, I’m afraid. For one thing, he was hardly ever here. He was away at boarding school. And in the summer holidays he used to go to an aunt’s in France. The only time we saw him was at Christmas and Easter. And of course there was quite an age gap - five years between him and me, more for the others - and that’s a huge difference when you’re young, isn’t it? Most of the time he just ignored us.
Went off with the local lads, or hiked off to see schoolfriends.
And when he was around, well’ - she bit her lip and made a rueful face - ‘I have to say we were rather terrified of him. He used to play tricks on us. Chase us and hurt us and scare us half to death. But, Joe, I can tell you all this now because when Bi I got to know Jamie properly, when I was grown up enough to H understand, I realised what a lovely sweet person he was. How under all that horrible older brother stuff he was just a sweet kind person who’d had a hard time.’
Preoccupied with the more distant past, Joe missed the significance of what she was saying. ‘This aunt in France - was he close to her?’
‘Oh, very. She was called Lucia. She was Catarina’s sister elder, I think. She lived somewhere near Nice. That’s where Jamie always used to fly to, anyway. But the last I heard, she was ill. Jamie said she had cancer. But I could probably find an address somewhere, if you want it.’
And still Joe failed to realise what she was saying. ‘I’m amazed your father let Jamie go to France, with the risk of genetic contamination.’
Kate blinked again. ‘Oh, it was a relief for both of them.
They got on each other’s nerves so much. And Lucia was very different to Catarina. That’s what Mummy used to say, anyway.
Much more practical.’
A car sounded in the distance and they glanced up in time to see lights passing the yard entrance.
‘So … France,’ Joe murmured. ‘I’m just trying to think of places Chetwood might have gone to live.’
‘The best person to ask is probably Ines.’ Catching his look, Kate explained, ‘That’s Jamie’s cousin - Lucia’s daughter. She was closer to Jamie than anyone.’
Ines’s name stirred a memory, though Joe couldn’t immediately remember when or in what context he’d heard Chetwood speak of her. ‘Where would I find her?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ve rather lost touch. The last I heard she was living in Rio. But I think she’s still working for the same bank she worked for in London. It was the Banco Popular of Brazil. Or should it be Banco Popul-an’?’ Her eyes danced with fun. ‘Spanish isn’t my thing.’
‘Portuguese, I think you’ll find.’
‘What?’ She hunched her shoulders, her hand shot up to her mouth to cover her giggles. ‘Oh my God} Hopeless!’
‘You met Ines in France?’
‘What? Oh, no, no. London.’
Finally, the fragments that Joe had missed began to resonate in his brain. When I got to know Jamie properly, when I was much older … the last I heard, Jamie said she had cancer…
‘You used to see Jamie quite a lot then? Before he disappeared?’
‘Not as much as I’d have liked. But yes, two or three times a year. When he was on his way to India or somewhere like that. I lived in South Kensington then. He used to phone, and we’d meet up before he went to catch his plane. It was just wonderful’.’ She clasped her hands close against her chest, like an excited child. ‘As though we were making up for lost time!
Like finding a brand new brother. Of course he only called me when Ines wasn’t free or was cross with him. But I didn’t mind a bit. Not a bit! I was just thrilled to see him.’
Joe didn’t hurry the thought that was forming slowly in his mind. ‘He saw a lot of Ines, then?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Could she still be in touch with him?’
Kate pouted her pretty mouth in concentration. ‘I don’t know. For a while after he disappeared I think she was still hoping … But then she finally gave up on him.’
‘Still hoping … what, to find him?’
Kate blinked.’ ‘Yes.’ Reaching for her coffee, the blinking accelerated to a nervous flutter. ‘And to win him back,’ she whispered, risking a glance at Joe. ‘I think she was sort of well, definitely - in love with him, you see.’
Joe said nothing, letting the silence carry her forward.
‘In fact, she adored him,’ Kate said, gaining momentum.
‘And you know something - I always thought he adored her too. He always seemed so happy when they were together. So unfrazzled. So funny.’
And still Joe kept silent.
‘Ines was sure that the relationship with Jenna wouldn’t last. Even after he moved in with her. Even after they married.
That’s what she told me. She was sure it wouldn’t last. And Ines is such a cool person, she always knows everything. She’s about the coolest person I know. I thought she must know something I didn’t. Even after they disappeared she didn’t give up hope, not for ages. She used to ring me and talk about it.
She was sure Jamie would come back to her.’
‘And this love affair - whatever it was - between Chetwood and Ines, how long had it been going on?’
Kate’s eyes grew large as saucers. ‘Since they were eighteen, Ines told me. For ever and ever.’
Chapter Four
‘What are you telling me, Joe? That he was being a pain the Ritch? Or should I say the filthy Pitch?’ Harry Galbraith, the senior Litigation partner, gave a satisfied smirk as he sifted through the papers on his desk. He was at his expansive Monday-morning best, fresh from overseeing the re-landscaping of his country garden, which, he liked to complain, was costing him arms and legs and parts of his anatomy he didn’t care to mention. He was a big man with a double chin and a large belly, which he concealed under expensive suits and bright ties. In a less original moment, the office wits had dubbed him Flash Harry.
‘He beefed about almost everything,’ Joe replied. ‘About what we were doing, why we were doing it, the costs. Oh, and not having a full team on the case.’
‘Well, he can hardly expect me to be involved in the nuts and bolts.’ Harry sat back in his chair to cast a more critical eye at Joe. ‘But he had you, and he had Anna and Ed?’
‘Until near the end, when I let Anna and Ed go.’
‘As in depart?’ said Harry, who liked to tie these things down. ‘Why did you do that, Joe?’
‘It was late. We’d been at it for two hours. We’d covered the ground at least twice. Anna and Ed were tired. And Ritch was starting to get difficul
t.’
‘Tired? I’m sorry, we all get tired, Joe. Part and parcel, isn’t it? And if they can’t take the heat at their age …’
‘It was my decision. Entirely mine. Ritch was getting offensive.
He implied we were trying to jack up our fees unnecessarily.’
‘Implied? How implied?’
‘Said straight out, actually. To one of his henchmen.’
‘You mean, as an aside?’
‘Oh, he meant us to hear. No doubt about that.’
‘But it wasn’t actually directed at us,’ Harry said briskly.
‘Well, no, but…’
‘Not an issue then.’
Harry Galbraith had several faces. There was the gung-ho team leader, disciple of the bonding and motivational techniques absorbed on expensive management courses, there was the astute lawyer, quick as they come, no dawdlers tolerated, and there was the senior partner of twenty years’ standing, the consummate corporate manoeuvrer and keen watcher of his back. He was in lawyer mode now, alert, canny, not in any mood to curb his natural impatience. ‘And?' he demanded.
‘Then Ritch and his guys started munching on hamburgers. Didn’t apologise, didn’t say a word, just turned their backs on us and started to eat.’
‘Hell, Joe, they’re the clients. They don’t have to apologise for getting hungry.’
‘It was just so incredibly rude.’
Harry started to drum his elegant fingers lightly and quickly on the desk, like a pianist polishing off a con brio section.
‘And?’
‘Ritch said he thought I was rubbish basically, so I ended the meeting and told him we’d reconvene when the rest of the team were available. I followed up with a fax this morning, asking them to name a day and a time.’
The drumming stopped, Harry’s expression hardened. ‘You didn’t include we? For God’s sake, Joe, what were you thinking of? I’ve got a hell of a week.’ He thrust a hand in the direction of his diary. ‘I may not be free.’
‘I think you should try and swing it.’
‘Hang on, hang on. What am I hearing, Joe? Am I hearing that Ritch is seriously angry with us? Am I hearing crisis? Or is he simply in need of TLC?’
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