by Kirsty Ferry
‘It makes me feel like it was my fault for being born. If I hadn’t come along, then you would have still had her.’
‘I don’t think so. I think the crazy schemes and the way Dad frittered money would have driven her away eventually. You’ve got no idea of the things that kept coming up when I took over.’ Alex stared at the gates, almost as if he wished he could have followed his mother out. ‘It’s just brought it all back. I needed some time-out to get my head straight. I think I’m going to have to make some calls – pull some favours in. There are certain things I need to know and it’s the only way I can do it. Sorry I ran out on you both when we got the letter. I don’t think I’ve apologised to you for it, have I?’
‘You haven’t, but it’s fine. You didn’t take a hip flask out with Hughie, did you?’ Cassie was only half-teasing. There’d been more than one occasion, years ago, when Alex had thought the answer to turning a profit on his appalling inheritance was to be found at the bottom of a bottle or two.
‘No. Certainly not.’ He flashed a smile at her, very briefly. ‘I’ve got a good reason to stay sober, and she’s sitting in the Tea Caravan as we speak.’
‘You need to talk to her about it, Alex. She’s so upset that she can’t help you.’
Alex looked contrite. ‘Point taken. She deserves more than me being a moody bastard.’
‘She definitely does. And I’ve told her about the secret room already. Do you want to have a look?’
‘Stupid question. What do you think?’
‘Come on then.’
He grinned and was about to answer, when his mobile phone rang.
He looked at the caller display and paled as he fumbled to answer it. ‘Elodie? Are you okay?’ This wasn’t good – she didn’t normally call him during work unless it was an emergency and, as Cassie might have suspected, panic crossed his face. ‘Okay, stay where you are. I’m coming straight over. Try to breathe – that’s it. Just steady. I’m coming, okay?’ He disconnected the call and looked at Cassie. He shook his head. ‘I’ve got to go. She’s having an attack. Tell me more later, yeah?’ He ran off in the direction of the Faerie Bridge and Cassie stared after him feeling helpless. She might have guessed what was going to happen though, having seen her earlier. Poor Elodie. Well, at least her brother was communicating with her again and not turning back into that raging, angry beast he’d been before.
But even so, what with the fallout from their mother’s letter and the doubts it had put into her mind, as well as the fact Aidan had left and he’d stirred up all sorts of feelings in her, but had a very-lovely-Petra in his life already, this was so turning into a shitty day.
Once Alex had called her and told her it was all under control, but he was taking Elodie to the hospital just to be sure, Cassie decided to cheer herself up by going back to the secret room in the Spa, but it didn’t seem to have the effect she was hoping for. This time, she wriggled half-heartedly through the opening and she had definitely felt more of a buzz when Aidan was with her.
She stood in the small space and it looked rather dingy and unloved, instead of quietly secretive and exciting. The chair was rotten and she decided she certainly wouldn’t want to sit on it. The trapdoor was still pushed to the side and she remembered the excitement as Aidan moved it carefully out of their way, and the way they had both left as quickly as possible without giving it another thought.
She reached out her foot and pushed the trapdoor lid back towards the hole. It was heavy, but not massively so and it scraped painfully along the floorboards. Cassie knelt down and moved it more carefully, sealing up the entrance to the steps. Then she leaned across and grasped one of the legs of the chair to pull it back over the trapdoor, just as Aidan had done earlier.
Unfortunately, as she took hold of it, it broke off in her hand.
Cassie swore and stood up. She picked the chair up, cursing herself and intending to lift what was left of it over the trapdoor. As she leaned over to get a proper hold of it, she saw the corner of something pale blue sticking up out of the threadbare old cushion.
Cassie let go of the chair and reached down to take the corner. She pulled it out and realised it was part of a rectangle – the rectangle was, she realised, as she unfolded it, a letter. Or, more to the point, a few lines scribbled angrily on a piece of paper.
Yes. I did it. And I’m sorry if you expected otherwise.
I’ve always loved you, but I find I cannot like the fact that you are acting so utterly spoiled and silly, and being so very selfish. You’ve always had your own way, and I’ve always done my utmost to give you every damn thing I can to keep you happy. But this time, in this situation – I can’t.
I’m going, and if that means I lose you in the process, then so be it.
I thank you, politely, for returning the token of my affection, although it cost me dearly to receive it in such a manner.
I remain,
Your Astrophel.
‘Good grief!’ Cassie re-read the lines. Someone was clearly having a bad day when they wrote that. ‘Talk about being dumped,’ she said to the empty room. ‘That’s either a letter dumping someone, or from someone who’s been dumped.’ She turned the paper this way and that, trying to work out a date from it. Nothing. It wasn’t even addressed to anyone. Just signed, bizarrely, by this crazy person called Astrophel. That wasn’t a name. It sounded more like something from a literacy lesson. ‘You might as well have called yourself Hyphenium or Semi-Colonicus,’ Cassie muttered. ‘Go for the whole raft of English grammar, why don’t you?’
She folded the letter up again along the creases. This was one of those moments when she could have just dashed off to find Elodie super-quickly to ask her opinion, but of course she couldn’t be bothering her or Alex with another Hartsford secret right now.
Cassie got a horrible sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered Alex’s face as he rushed across to the caravan. She was willing to bet they’d never bargained for that sort of excitement when they got pregnant. Not that it was exactly planned – but never mind. Roll on T-Day.
No. She wouldn’t bother them now. Instead, she decided to head back out of the room the way she’d come in. It was getting chilly in there – what little sun had crept in through the old glass had moved over towards the west and it was all shadowed and a little creepy.
She really didn’t fancy coming into contact with any more of her ancestors today, particularly any dead ones that may have decided to linger on the earthly plain for a while. She was pretty sure someone had been choosing a nice bottle of champagne from that cellar earlier. She shuddered and hurried as fast as she could, out into the woods behind the changing rooms. She didn’t even like the feeling around the woods or the Spa at the moment, and jogged into full sunlight.
She kept jogging all the way to the Hall and was so pleased to encounter life and tourists after all that secrecy and weirdness. Cassie waved at Delilah who was carrying a fresh basket of scones over to the kiosk for the afternoon customers and continued up to the wing of the Hall where Alex and Elodie lived.
The door wasn’t locked, thankfully, and she scurried in through the corridor and the kitchen and dashed up the two flights of stairs until she reached the little stairway to the attics – Elodie’s marvellous ‘archive’. She bypassed the attic she had her old dressing up trunk in and headed to the larger one at the end of the corridor beneath the eaves where the family paperwork was traditionally stored.
‘Okay Alphonsus or whatever you’re called. I’m looking for you.’ Cassie surveyed the piles of boxes and cabinets around her. ‘And I’m looking for evidence about Mr Edwards visiting as well.’ She homed in on an area that had been cleared recently. A chair had been put next to an old desk and there were a few boxes lying around.
This, then, was where Elodie had been working. She could see the whole project would have involved a lot of bending and stretching and couldn’t blame her for leaving it for now. However, this was a very good place to start.
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Aidan Edwards had said the changing rooms were Art Deco. That was around the twenties, thirties and forties. So this area would match date wise, if Elodie had been working here with a view to finding things for the Country House Weekend.
Aidan.
She liked him. She really liked him. And it wasn’t just because of the leathers or the dark hair or the lopsided smiled. Or the bike. Although they were all very good reasons to be attracted to him.
But she felt a sort of connection to him, as if Robert – Rob – was part of Hartsford’s history and Aidan should be part of it all too, and not just by repairing the pool.
She sighed. She needed to get on with the job in hand. She needed to forget Aidan Edwards – at least for now.
March 1941
‘Have you got a girl at home?’ One of Rob’s new flight companions asked him the question as they prepared for a training flight over the County Durham countryside. County Durham; a nice enough place, but Rob wished he could take a sharp turn south and land somewhere on the Hartsford estate. Now that would be bloody fantastic.
‘A girl?’ Rob smiled into the distance, a little sadly. ‘You know, I’m not quite sure. I did have a girl, and then we argued, and I joined up.’
‘Didn’t you clear that up before you left?’ The young man, Harry, was surprised. ‘God, I’m always arguing with my girl, but we make up pretty damn well.’
Rob laughed. ‘Stella and I were the same – only we didn’t really have many big arguments. We just liked the making-up part. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t handle a big fight.’
‘Did she scream and yell?’ Harry’s eyes glistened with mischief. ‘Shows a passionate nature that does.’
‘I don’t know.’ Rob smiled, wryly, at his companion. ‘We argued by letter.’
‘By bloody letter?’ Harry shook his head. ‘Good God, man. That’s not a proper argument.’
‘No, it’s not. There were only three letters involved. I may have over-reacted slightly, but I wanted to fight, and she wanted me to wait, so here I jolly well am. But you know, I still want to marry her. Nothing’s changed for me, in the end. God knows if she still wants me, but I doubt it, somehow. She’s probably forgotten all about me.’ His voice became bitter. ‘Her stuck-up father’ll have made sure of that one, if nothing else. Probably married her off to some titled fool by now.’
‘Bloody interfering chap, then.’ Harry nodded knowledgeably.
‘Bloody Earl of Bollocks,’ said Rob with feeling. ‘I’ve sent a couple of letters – haven’t had an answer, so my guess is either he’s intercepting them, or she’s ignoring me. I called her selfish and spoiled – not my finest hour. And it’s not like I can nip down and see her, is it? But I will – I’ll go down, just as soon as I can and take my flaming pitchfork with me to batter my way into the Hall.’
Harry gave a shout of good-natured laughter. ‘That’s the upper classes for you. Still, when we’re up there,’ he pointed to the sky, ‘we can look down on the whole damn lot of them.’
‘We can.’ Rob allowed himself a grin to think of it – he wasn’t that far removed from the upper classes himself, and he doubted that Harry was either – but the analogy was a good one. He looked across at Harry and his smile grew wider. ‘Stella’s a redhead. She’s got a bit of fire about her.’
‘Fee’s a blonde.’ Harry’s smile grew to match Rob’s as he paused before climbing aboard the Hawker Hurricane. ‘A natural one, as well.’
‘Fancy that!’
‘I bloody well do.’
And they clapped each other on the back and boarded the aircraft, still laughing as they prepared for take-off.
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
The countryside slipped past Aidan in a haze. He drove to the office on autopilot, forgetting the morning had started with a fairly ordinary commission quotation. As he drove, there was something that was nagging at him.
He almost swerved into the kerb as it suddenly struck him that he honestly did feel a lot more for Cassie Aldrich than he should for a client, Tom or no Tom. When he left Hartsford Hall, he had been determined he wouldn’t go back, as that was simply inviting trouble. But there was something more insistent pulling him back than simply wanting to work on a massively interesting restoration project. It was as if Rob Edwards himself was urging him not to let it go, quite so easily. Not to let her go without a fight.
It wasn’t something he had experienced before. And he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.
‘What on earth are you doing here in that state?’ Petra watched him as he crashed his way through the doors and stomped past her desk, the buckles on his boots rattling angrily. ‘You are hardly dressed for office work, my darling.’ Her Eastern European accent had dwindled over the years, but traces of it were still there, along with the physical evidence in her fair hair and long, cat-like green eyes. She was sporting a hard hat, Aidan vaguely noted, so she must have just come in from a site visit.
‘I’ve got an urgent commission. I need a job doing as soon as possible. Can we put the hotel on hold?’ He spun around and stared at her. ‘Actually, just so you know, that’s not a request.’
‘That is a direct order. Yes, Sir!’ Petra mockingly saluted him. She pulled the keyboard towards her and began studying the screen, clicking around to find the calendar. ‘Might I ask what the contract involves?’
‘It’s a renovation project. A 1930s leisure area. Tennis courts. Swimming pool. Changing rooms. Squash court. That sort of thing.’
Petra raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Very nice.’
‘It will be. It’s part of an estate, really. Hartsford Hall. Do you know it?’
Petra nodded, her eyes scanning the computer screen. ‘I’ve heard of it. Open to the public, yes? On one of Suffolk’s top ten attraction lists, I believe.’
‘Yes. And we need to get the job done for August. They’re having an event.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Something like that anyway.’
‘That won’t be easy, but we can try. Okay. What’s her name?’ Petra’s fingers hovered expectantly over the mouse and she looked up at him.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Petra smiled, a little, knowing, cat-like smile. ‘Aha. I mean nothing. What is your client’s name then?’
‘Cassandra. Cassandra Aldrich.’ He slapped his hands on the desk and turned his back on Petra, pushing his hands through his hair. ‘Cost price. Lower than cost price. As soon as we can. Please.’
‘Hmm.’ There was a smile in Petra’s voice. Aidan heard the soft click of the mouse. ‘We can start the week after next, I guess, if you can put the orders in for the materials super-quickly. Otherwise it all depends on our suppliers. It’s not a brilliant timescale, but I think it’s possible if we deal with the best people, yes?’
Aidan spun back towards her. ‘I can make things happen. Trust me. Yes. We’ll start the week after next. I’ll draw up the plans now.’ He strode off into his office.
‘Oh, Aidan! Not so fast.’
He turned and looked at Petra. ‘What?’
‘You have a visitor.’
‘A visitor?’ He frowned. ‘What, a client?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Aidan – I’ve been waiting ages for you.’
Aidan’s head snapped back towards his door, and his heart hit the bottom of his biker boots with a thud that he suspected was almost audible.
‘Kim. Good afternoon.’
All of a sudden, he was very, very reluctant to go into his office. Kim Barrett was not the woman he wanted to see today. Not any day, to be honest.
‘Gosh, Aidan. You’re very scruffy. What were you doing with this Cassandra Aldrich, exactly? And, more to the point, who is Cassandra Aldrich?’ Kim’s smile was falsely innocent and bright.
‘Oh, I don’t think you’d know her.’ Aidan’s smile was as false and bright as Kim’s was. ‘We’re closing soon, so is there anything I can help with quickly?’
‘Closing?’ Kim blinked wide, grey eyes. ‘But it’s barely mid-afternoon.’
‘Well, you see it’s like this,’ he improvised. ‘Petra’s little boy has a parents’ day at school, and as she’s my site manager and main office cover, and his father is my second-in-command, I’m afraid I can’t maintain the office without them. So I was going to work from home for the rest of the day. To avoid having to turn people away who come in on spec.’ His smile increased in its falsity. ‘I usually expect them to have appointments, you see.’
‘But I’ve got an emergency. And I’m hardly just a client, am I?’
Aidan decided, right there and then, that he needed to begin sending his brother, Iain, to Kim’s barn. Iain was Petra’s fiancé and the father of their child. He was also a far better actor than Aidan, and could project a much more surly and dour attitude if he had to.
However, today was too late for that to happen. Kim had obviously decided to come to the office where he would be a captive audience to her outlandish plans. And today, Kim was not to be deflected.
Aidan sighed. ‘What’s the emergency?’ He didn’t respond to her other comment.
‘I’m having a table crisis. Do you think I should extend out the back to fit more tables in? I was hoping we could get together and discuss it. Maybe over a drink?’ She smiled up at him, peeping coyly under her false eyelashes – which did nothing except unaccountably irritate him. Usually he just put up with her flirtatiousness, but today was different.
‘I don’t think so, Kim. If you want to send me some plans and measurements over email, I’m happy to take a look at them that way. I work better visually.’ He hurriedly amended that, as he saw a light go on in her eyes which probably translated as, ‘oh, you can come over to the barn then!’ ‘By visually, I mean I work better at the computer screen. When I’ve got access to my design software. Sorry.’ He tried to soften the rejection with a smile, but it felt incredibly forced and judging by the choking sound Petra made, it probably looked that way too.