Trust in Summer Madness

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Nice car.’ Sara looked shrewdly at the Porsche as the engine no longer purred but roared as Jarrett accelerated it out on to the main road and away from them.

  ‘Yes.’ Sian swung easily out of the car, ignoring Sara’s curious look and putting her hand in the crook of the other woman’s arm. ‘Chris said you wanted to talk to me about the cake.’

  ‘Yes, I do. But—’

  ‘Is it the icing?’ she prompted as they walked towards the house.

  ‘Yes. But—’

  ‘Tea in the garden—how lovely!’ Sian exclaimed with feigned pleasure as she saw the tray laid out on the garden table. ‘Hello, Gerald,’ she greeted Chris’s father as he sat on one of the gaily-coloured garden chairs.

  ‘Hello, love,’ he returned sleepily. ‘If you women are going to talk about the wedding again I’m going inside,’ he grimaced.

  ‘Gerald—’

  ‘Sara, this house has been full of talk about the wedding for weeks now,’ he sighed. ‘I just wanted to have a nice peaceful afternoon in the garden.’

  ‘Gerald!’ Sara gave Sian a pleading look at her husband’s bluntness.

  Sian gave a light laugh. ‘I understand exactly how he feels. Let’s just have some tea, shall we?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘For goodness’ sake stop saying “but” all the time, Sara,’ Gerald told his wife lazily. ‘And let’s enjoy the peace and quiet.’

  With a resigned shrug Sara poured the tea. Sian heaved an inward sigh of relief. The last thing she felt like talking about at the moment was the wedding.

  ‘Maybe we could go into the house and discuss the cake,’ Sara suggested a few minutes later. ‘As Gerald is feeling so unsociable,’ she added crossly.

  Her husband’s only reply was a sleepy grunt, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun.

  ‘There’s no need, Sara,’ Sian dismissed, having finished her tea. ‘I can come back some other time. There’s no rush. When are you expecting Chris back?’

  ‘He didn’t say,’ Sara shrugged. ‘He had to go and take another look at the Jacobs’ dog.’

  ‘Yes,’ she had known that. ‘I’ll see him tonight, then. I’d better be going now, I have some shopping to do.’

  The other woman looked annoyed by Sian’s avoidance of the subject she had supposedly come here to discuss, but she walked down to the car with her, waving goodbye as Sian left to drive home.

  Saturday was Bethany’s busy day at the salon, and she hurried into the house at six o’clock, refusing food before running up to her room.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ their father frowned.

  Sian shrugged, finishing her meal. ‘She probably has a date with Jarrett.’ In fact she knew her sister was seeing Jarrett, Bethany had seen him almost every night since he had been back in town.

  Her father sighed. ‘I don’t like her friendship with him,’ he shook his head.

  ‘I’m sure it won’t last,’ she consoled—not sure at all!

  ‘Couldn’t you talk to her?’

  ‘I have, Dad—’

  ‘Couldn’t you try just once more?’ he persuaded. ‘She’ll only end up getting hurt, like you were. The man intends staying here!’ he added disgustedly.

  Sian could see how worried her father really was, she agreed to go and talk to Bethany, although she knew it would do no good. Bethany was determined to continue seeing Jarrett, and wouldn’t hear a word said against him.

  Bethany had just finished washing her hair when Sian entered her room, intending to blow-dry it into its usual windswept style. ‘Hello,’ she greeted breathlessly. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit rushed.’

  ‘So I can see.’ Sian sat on the bed. ‘Going out?’

  Her sister gave her a derisive look. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  Sian smiled. ‘I suppose so. It’s just that Dad is—’

  ‘Worried,’ Bethany finished. ‘I know. But he has no need to be. Jarrett and I are just going to London—’

  ‘London?’ Sian echoed sharply. ‘That’s over fifty miles away!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So why do you have to go to London?’ Sian asked worriedly. ‘Darwich is much nearer, and—’

  ‘Not nearly as exciting,’ Bethany finished scornfully. ‘Jarrett’s going to take me to dinner and then a show.’

  She frowned. ‘But that’s going to make it so late.’

  ‘Oh, we’re going to stay over—’

  ‘You’re what?’ Sian stood up, her breathing shallow.

  Dull colour entered her sister’s cheeks, and she avoided Sian’s probing gaze. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Sian,’ she snapped. ‘As you said, it will be late when the show finishes. Jarrett suggested we stay overnight, and I—I agreed with him,’ she added defiantly.

  Sian chewed on her inner lip. ‘You didn’t mention this when you came home at lunchtime.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t know at lunchtime,’ Bethany mumbled.

  Sian’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘What did you say?’

  Bethany gave an impatient sigh, putting down the hair-dryer as she gave up the idea of drying her hair for the moment. ‘Why do you have to make such a fuss about one night spent in London? In this permissive day and age it’s a little old-fashioned, Sian,’ she mocked.

  ‘Why didn’t you know at lunchtime?’ Sian persisted.

  ‘Why?’ her sister frowned. ‘Because Jarrett only thought of it this afternoon,’ she explained. ‘He telephoned me at the salon. I thought it was a lovely idea.’

  Damn him to hell! He hit her where he knew it would hurt the most. And she was being made to feel every blow, being punished for every slight she might have given him.

  ‘Does Dad know?’ she queried quietly.

  ‘Not yet,’ once again her sister was evasive. ‘I’ll tell him before I go.’

  ‘What time is that?’

  Bethany shrugged. ‘Jarrett said he would be here about seven.’

  That gave her time to talk to him, to go to the hotel and plead with him not to do this, to give in to his demands if nothing else would stop his seduction of her sister. He had already taken her pride, she had nothing else to lose!

  She smiled tightly. ‘I’ll leave you to get ready, then.’

  ‘It really is only dinner and a show, Sian,’ Bethany’s pleading tone stopped her at the door. ‘I’m really attracted to Jarrett, but I’m not stupid enough to sleep with him on such short acquaintance.’

  ‘No,’ Sian agreed dully, knowing that if Jarrett set out to seduce her sister as he had threatened he would, Bethany wouldn’t stand a chance. Jarrett’s form of persuasion was lethal!

  ‘I’m really not,’ Bethany insisted. ‘Jarrett finds me amusing more than anything else.’

  ‘He would hardly turn down the opportunity to sleep with you!’ Sian scorned.

  ‘He isn’t being given the opportunity,’ her sister snapped. ‘Don’t be such a prude, Sian. Of course I like him to kiss me, but the first man I sleep with is not going to be Jarrett King, fantastic as that experience might be.’

  Sian knew Bethany believed what she was saying, and yet she couldn’t help feeling sceptical as to her sister’s ability to withstand Jarrett. If he wanted Bethany then he would take her. And he would make sure she didn’t regret it for a moment. Not at the time anyway. Later it would be a different story, as she had found out to her cost.

  ‘Have a good time,’ she told Bethany absently, already planning what she was going to say to Jarrett—after she had told him what a manipulating bastard he was!

  ‘Thanks. Er—you wouldn’t tell Dad for me, would you?’ Bethany gave her a hopeful look.

  Sian gave a rueful laugh and shook her head, seeing how much Bethany dreaded the argument there was sure to be when their father was told of her plans for the weekend. ‘I’ll leave that to you,’ she smiled wryly.

  ‘Thanks!’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s your weekend, Bethany.’

  ‘Yes,’ she scowled. ‘Okay, I’ll talk to
Dad myself.’

  ‘Well?’ Her father lowered the volume on the television as Sian rejoined him.

  ‘She won’t give him up, Dad. In fact—No, I’ll let her tell you herself.’ Sian bit her lower lip.

  ‘Tell me what?’ he frowned darkly.

  ‘Calm down, Dad,’ she soothed. ‘Bethany will be down soon. She’ll tell you then. I—I have to go out myself now.’

  ‘Go out? But—Sian?’ he questioned sharply, his frown deepening.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him quietly. ‘It will all work out for the best—for all of us.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Dad,’ her tone was sharp, ‘don’t question too deeply.’

  He swallowed down his next question, his face dark with concern, watching silently as Sian picked up his car keys and left.

  She didn’t allow herself time to think, to question, but drove straight to the Swan, intending to talk to Jarrett before he had time to leave to pick up Bethany. She hoped what she had to tell him would mean he didn’t go to Bethany at all. And maybe one day Bethany would even thank her for ending her relationship with Jarrett. But not yet she wouldn’t.

  The Swan was already starting to fill up for the evening when she walked in, a cabaret of a husband and wife singing duo coming on later, but in the meantime there was the bar and the mellow music filtering through the stereo system; the discotheque did not start until much later.

  Sian felt very conspicuous as she walked over to the bar that also did as a reception desk for the hotel quests. This was the scene of her humiliation, and it took all her will-power to cross the room in the face of a dozen or so curious stares. It would be all over town by tomorrow that the other Morrissey girl had been visiting Jarrett King at the hotel!

  ‘Sian!’ Ida Barlowe greeted her smugly, obviously speculating as to her reason for being here. Sian had rarely been back into the pub since the night of Jarrett’s stag party, and never alone, and the fact that she was here now must be food for thought. ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ the woman offered.

  ‘No, thanks. I—I’m looking for Jarrett.’ Sian cursed herself for sounding like a nervous fool.

  Ida frowned, and the music grew louder in that moment. ‘I’m sorry, love, what did you say?’ There was a vindictive light of satisfaction in the narrowed blue eyes. The Swan’s reputation had suffered for weeks from the repercussions of what had become a big scandal in Swannell, and as Sian had helped cause that scandal Ida wasn’t one to forgive easily.

  Neither was Sian, and she remembered this woman’s snubs from the past. ‘Is Jarrett King here?’ her voice had hardened firmly.

  ‘Mr King?’ Ida frowned with feigned puzzlement. ‘Wouldn’t your sister have a better idea of where he is?’

  Sian drew in a ragged breath as the barb hit home—as it had been meant to. ‘He isn’t here, then?’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Well now, I didn’t say that—’

  ‘Is he or isn’t he?’ Sian snapped, tired of this woman’s game. She simply didn’t have the time to waste on her pettiness.

  ‘No, he isn’t,’ Ida bit out. ‘He went out about a quarter of an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sian frowned, chewing on her inner lip. That meant he was already on his way to see Bethany. She was too late!

  ‘If you should happen to find him,’ Ida added softly, maliciously, ‘perhaps you could tell him Mrs King has arrived.’

  The colour left Sian’s face in a rush, looking at the other woman open-mouthed. ‘Mrs King?’ she repeated dazedly.

  ‘Yes,’ Ida confided with relish. ‘That’s her over there,’ she nodded behind Sian. ‘She arrived about five minutes ago. So if you should happen to see Mr King perhaps you could tell him his wife is here?’

  Sian wasn’t listening to that spiteful voice any more, but turning to stare at the woman sitting alone at a table a short distance away. The woman was staring back at her, her youthful face exquisitely beautiful, if a little hard, deep blue eyes surrounded by sooty lashes, the beautiful mouth a vivid slash of red, the ebony hair long and silky about her shoulders.

  This woman was beautiful—she was also Jarrett’s wife!

  CHAPTER SIX

  SIAN felt sick as she stared at the other woman, wondering what sort of monster Jarrett was that he could take Bethany out, could make love to her, when all the time he had a wife. He hadn’t changed, not at all; he was still the same selfish swine she had walked out on three years ago.

  ‘She’s American.’ Ida spoke again.

  Sian didn’t answer the woman, but watched in horror as Jarrett’s wife stood up to walk towards her. She was a tall woman, as tall as Sian, moving with a languid grace; the yellow dress she wore was obviously expensive, her legs long and slender, her bare feet thrust into sandals the same shade of yellow as her dress. As she neared Sian she could see that, despite expertly applied makeup, the woman was older than she at first appeared, possibly Jarrett’s own age, definitely not much younger.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the woman spoke with a softly attractive drawl, her smile friendly, although Sian couldn’t help but notice it didn’t reach the hard blue of her eyes. ‘My name is Arlette King. I couldn’t help but overhear you mentioning Jarrett just now. Do you know where I could find him?’

  Sian swallowed hard. Something about the woman grated on her nerves, although she couldn’t define the feelings. But even so, she couldn’t tell this woman Jarrett was out with her sister, she knew only too well how devastating such news could be.

  ‘Miss Morrissey was looking for him herself,’ Ida put in, determined not to be left out of what proved to be an interesting conversation.

  Shrewd blue eyes were turned on the landlady, and Ida flushed uncomfortably under that icy cold stare. Dark brows were raised as Arlette’s returned to Sian. ‘Would you like to join me at my table?’ she invited silkily.

  ‘I—’

  ‘I would like to talk to you,’ she gave Ida a pointed look. ‘Alone.’

  Sian could see that she wasn’t the only one to make an enemy of Ida Barlowe, that this woman had antagonised her without compunction. The Ida Barlowes of this world obviously meant little or nothing to Arlette King; her air of haughty sophistication demanded a certain standard even from this rural public house. And the ‘hired help’ interfering in a private conversation didn’t meet up to that rigid standard.

  ‘Join me for a drink,’ Arlette encouraged as she sensed Sian’s hesitation. ‘Scotch and soda for me,’ she requested coolly of Ida. ‘Miss Morrissey?’

  Sian felt badly in need of something to put the strength back into her limbs, still recoiling from the shock of this woman being Jarrett’s wife. He had acted completely without ties since his arrival here, had more than lied when he told her there had been no other woman for him in America, had omitted the fact that he was married, that he had a wife in America waiting for his return. Only she hadn’t waited, she had come looking for him! Arlette King looked as if she rarely waited for the things she wanted.

  ‘Sherry, please,’ she accepted jerkily. ‘Dry.’

  Arlette’s expression hardened once again as she looked at the woman behind the bar. ‘We will be at my table,’ she informed her coldly.

  Sian had to admire the way Arlette handled the malicious and inquisitive Ida. The other woman had looked quite deflated by this intended put-down. Although Sian felt uncomfortable as the same hard-eyed stare was directed at her once Ida had brought their drinks a few seconds later!

  ‘Morrissey?’ Arlette murmured thoughtfully. ‘Your name wouldn’t happen to be Sian, would it?’

  She gave a start of surprise that the other woman should know this. ‘Er—yes.’

  ‘I see,’ Arlette nodded.

  ‘Do you?’ Sian frowned, not ‘seeing’ at all herself.

  ‘You were going to marry Jarrett once, weren’t you?’

  ‘Was I?’ she evaded.

  Arlette nodded. ‘He told me all about you.’

  The sherry Sia
n had been idly sipping seemed to go the wrong way down her throat, choking her so that she couldn’t breathe, and she received a hearty thump on the back from Arlette King as she fought for her breath.

  The other woman handed her a tissue from her capacious leather handbag. ‘Better now?’ she drawled.

  Sian dried her tear-wet cheeks, swallowing hard as the choking threatened once again. ‘Yes,’ she managed to answer in a strangulated voice.

  ‘You don’t sound it,’ Arlette smiled at her obvious discomfort. ‘Didn’t you think Jarrett would have told me about you, the woman he had once been going to marry?’

  ‘I—I never even thought about it.’ How could she when she hadn’t even known he had a wife to tell! She tried sipping her sherry once again, and this time it passed down unobstructed. ‘Unfortunately, he didn’t give me—us—the the courtesy of telling us about you.’

  ‘That isn’t surprising,’ Arlette sounded bored. ‘I’m not really supposed to be here.’ She smiled. ‘Jarrett had this crazy idea of coming back here to see the little town he spent several years in, and as I had to stay in Florida to sell the beach-house he probably thought himself free of me for a few weeks.’ She looked questioningly at Sian.

  Sian couldn’t prevent the inevitable flooding of colour to her cheeks, giving her a guilty look when she had nothing to feel guilty about. ‘He certainly hasn’t given the impression of having any—commitments.’ She somehow couldn’t relate to this woman as Jarrett’s wife, although no doubt she suited him perfectly, not seeming in the least jealous, allowing him the sexual and emotional freedom he needed. But why bother to marry at all if that was the way you were going to act? It hardly seemed worth it to her, in fact, it hadn’t been worth it.

  Arlette gave a light laugh. ‘Jarrett is impossible, isn’t he?’ Her smile was indulgent, the rings on her fingers glittering brightly as she raised her glass of whisky to her lips.

  For the first time Sian noticed the amount of jewellery the other woman wore—rings on almost every finger, large jewelled rings that had cost a small fortune in themselves, the diamond necklace and matching earrings and bracelet just a bonus.