by Sharon Booth
She laughed and held out her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Carroll."
"Likewise, Mrs McCoy."
She released his hand and threw her arms around him. "It's been lovely to see you again, Kit. I have missed you. You must let me know how it goes with Marley. I really do hope it all works out."
"Thanks, Seffy." He smiled and showed her to the front door.
"Don't forget," she said, "any problems, just call me." She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Take care."
"See you soon," he promised, and waved as she rushed over to her car, clearly keen to get out of the freezing evening air and into the warmth again. He stood on the step, waving until her car cleared the drive and disappeared from view, then turned to go back inside.
"Kit?"
He spun around, shocked. "Marley? What the hell are you doing here?" God, she looked frozen, and so pale. She was standing by the wall, just staring at him. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Great Uncle Charles." She swallowed. "He died a couple of hours ago."
Kit slumped against the door. "Oh, my God. Marley, I'm so sorry." He shook himself, realising suddenly that he was freezing, so she must’ve been even colder. "Come in. It's like ice out here."
She didn't move, still staring at him. "Who was that?"
"What? Oh, you mean ..." His voice trailed off. She was looking at him most peculiarly. "Her name's Serafina. We're old friends. Known each other since we were teenagers."
"I don't remember you mentioning her before," she said, teeth chattering.
He frowned. "You wouldn't. We met in our gap year. She was in Africa with me, working on the project I told you about."
"And you're still in touch?"
He shifted, feeling in the wrong, but not knowing why. "She became a good friend. We got on well."
"Clearly."
Her eyes were boring into him, and Kit felt a spark of annoyance. What was she insinuating? And did it matter, given that she'd just lost her great-uncle? Surely, she had better things to think about? "Are you coming in?"
She turned and started to walk towards the gate.
Kit glared at her. "I said, are you coming in?" he called.
"No thanks. I just wanted you to know about Great Uncle Charles. Goodnight."
Kit was about to run after her, to stop her from leaving, to make her listen, but a growing weariness stopped him. Why was it always so difficult with her? Why did she always seem to believe the worst of him? Obviously, she'd seen Serafina kiss him, put two and two together, and made a million out of the scenario. That was Marley, all over. How much had she really changed?
He walked into the house and slammed the door behind him. Maybe Seffy was right. Maybe he was being stupid trusting her, after the way she'd behaved. And, being honest with himself, how much did he trust her anyway?
Wasn't the truth of it that he'd just been waiting for her to revert to type? Didn't he know, deep down, that when she found out how broke he was, she'd run a mile?
Kit sank into the sofa and stared with unseeing eyes at the contract on the coffee table. Why the hell had he ever got involved with Marley Jacobs again?
More importantly, how could he ever stop loving her?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mum offered to have the wake at her house. I had thought to prepare something at Fox Lodge, but I didn't have the heart. Besides, the large rooms in that house would only emphasise how few people attended Great Uncle Charles's funeral. I had no doubt that, apart from immediate family, there would be no one, and in the end, I was proved almost entirely correct.
Mum, Olivia, David and Don had been granted the day off work to attend, and we stood in solemn silence as the coffin was carried into the crematorium. Great Uncle Charles wasn't religious and had requested a humanist service, which seemed fitting.
As we filed indoors, following the pall bearers, I couldn't help but remember Grandad's funeral and contrast the two. The church had been packed with all Grandad's friends and acquaintances, and I'd felt so proud to know how loved he'd been, and how popular. This room was tiny, but it was still practically empty. I felt an unbearable sadness for Great Uncle Charles. How different things could have been, if only he'd never loved a Carroll.
There was, I thought bitterly, a great lesson to be learned there. You couldn't trust them. They would always abandon you in the end. Here I was again, all alone and let down by Kit Carroll. I deserved all I got.
Hearing the door open and close behind me, I glanced around and noticed, to my surprise, that there were a couple of other people sitting in the pews behind me. I had no idea who they were.
My eyes widened when I realised it had been Kit who'd just entered the chapel. Dressed in a black suit and tie, he looked very serious and—I couldn't deny it—devastatingly handsome. My heart thumped, and I turned away, furious with myself. What was he doing there, anyway? It had nothing to do with him.
The ceremony went by in a blur. There were a couple of readings by the humanist official, and two of Great Uncle Charles's favourite pieces of music were played. I wouldn't have known what to choose, but he'd left instructions. The funeral was to be carried out exactly as he requested, and who would dare to disobey Great Uncle Charles?
I watched through blurry eyes, as the coffin disappeared behind the curtain. His last journey. I'd never got the chance to tell him how sorry I was for all that he'd been through, how much I wished we'd had the chance to really talk, how much he meant to me, and how much I regretted that I hadn't realised that until it was too late.
Afterwards, we filed outside, and the two men who'd been sitting behind us came up to us and shook our hands. They commiserated with us, and explained that they used to work for Great Uncle Charles in Leeds, and that he'd been a well-respected boss who treated his workers well, and ran a tight, but fair, ship. "He was well thought of," they said, "and he'll be sadly missed by those who remember him."
"Who'd have thought it?" said Mum, shaking her head in astonishment, when they wandered off, having politely declined her offer to come back to the house for a glass of something alcoholic and a bite to eat.
"Just shows you," Olivia mused. "There's good in everyone, after all."
I glanced over at Kit, who was talking to Don. He looked pale and was shivering. He wasn't the only one. The air was bitterly cold, a coating of frost covered the ground. Mum had slipped and almost fallen over on her way into the chapel.
Christmas was just days away. Olivia was hopeful that there would be snow in time for the big day, but I doubted it. A white Christmas was the stuff of fairy tales and soppy songs, and real life had a habit of being a massive let-down, after all.
Mum looked at me, then at Kit, then back at me again. "What's gone on between you two?" she whispered.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do. You were all over each other at the hospital, now it looks as if you're not even speaking. What have you done?"
"Well, I like that! Why do you assume it's me that's done something? For your information, he's an absolute dickhead, and I should have known better than to get involved with him."
"He's a tight git," admitted Olivia. "I'm struggling to forgive him for cutting our bonus. Made things very difficult for us, this year. I must say, I thought you'd have gone for someone flashier. Can't imagine him putting his hand in his pocket for a Jenny Kingston handbag for you."
That reminded me. He must have gone over to Moreland Hall to take Ethan Rochester and his wife the chocolate samples. I wondered how that had gone? Was there any news on the contract?
I wanted to ask him, but had no intention of doing so. I supposed I'd find out at some point, along with everyone else at the factory.
I remembered the present he'd left for me at the flat. It was a sealed envelope with a bow stuck to the front. Hardly a handbag. Unless it was a gift voucher? Maybe he'd thought I would prefer to choose my own gift?
I wondered if I should give it
back to him. Not that I wanted my own present back. I'd given him the parcel containing the tie at the weekend, and he'd taken it home with him, promising to put it under the Christmas tree.
When I'd laughed and pointed out that he didn't have a Christmas tree up, he'd sworn he would decorate the house especially. Somehow, I doubted he'd bothered. There had been no sign of twinkling lights through the windows of Fell House the other night, when I'd stood outside, watching him kiss that woman. Or rather, watching that woman kiss him. So, he knew her from Africa? Hadn't I feared that he'd meet someone over there? How involved had they been? Had he forgotten me so quickly? I'd bet, as soon as he arrived there, he'd not given me a second thought.
I blinked when Kit suddenly loomed over me. As my eyes met his, all my blood pooled in my feet.
"I'm really sorry, Marley."
Was he? For what, exactly?
"I know he was all you had left of your grandad. I wish you'd had more time together, really I do. I want you to take the rest of the week off. Come back after the Christmas break."
"There's no need—"
"Yes, there is. Compassionate leave. Everyone's entitled to it, and you're no different. You've been through a lot, and you need some time to deal with it."
I nodded. "Thanks."
"Marley …" His voice was appealing, as if he wanted me to just forget about everything that had happened. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
My teeth clattered together. "I have the wake to go to. I can't just abandon that."
He glanced around, his expression clearly pointing out that there was hardly anyone there who would object. "I just think we should discuss things, don't you?"
Those soft, dark eyes seemed to stare into my very soul, and I wanted suddenly to launch myself against him and sob my heart out—for Grandad, for Dad, for Great Uncle Charles, for us, for ... everything. "I suppose we should," I murmured eventually, swallowing down the huge lump in my throat. "Fox Lodge, tomorrow night?"
After a small pause, he nodded. "Fox Lodge, tomorrow night. Around seven?"
"Fine."
"I'll see you there," he promised, then moved away to give his condolences to my family, and to make his excuses that he was going straight back to work.
Watching him walk away, I just didn't know what to think anymore.
Don appeared beside me and draped his arm around my shoulder. "Don't know what's gone wrong between you two, love, but remember what your uncle wanted, eh?" he whispered. "Don't throw everything away again. Don't be alone. Give him a chance, Marley."
"Come on, you two," called Mum. "Back to ours. There's a table full of food to be eaten, and I expect you all to do your bit and clear the lot. I didn't spend twenty-four quid at the freezer shop for nothing."
Chapter Twenty-Six
With the heating on full at Fox Lodge, I wandered into the kitchen and filled the kettle, thinking sadly that I could make the tea as strong as I wanted—there was no one to stop me, anymore. There was no one to stop me doing anything. I was, in the words of Great Uncle Charles's solicitor, a very wealthy young woman.
Despite all his threats, my uncle had left me Fox Lodge, after all, along with the fairly substantial sum of money from the sale of his construction company that hadn't gone on his house. He hadn't exactly been a big spender, so there was plenty of it. I could do anything I liked, really. Take a year off work and go travelling. Spend next Christmas in New York. Certainly, there was more than enough to turn Fox Lodge into the home of my dreams.
I heaped three spoonfuls of tea into the teapot and sighed. It seemed wrong to even be thinking about doing anything to Fox Lodge, right then, with Great Uncle Charles so recently gone. He must have cared about me, after all. Apart from small sums to my mother and Olivia, I'd inherited everything.
My sister hadn't seemed in the slightest bit surprised, and had shrugged it off when I told her I was sorry.
"What for? You went to see him all the time. I barely saw him from one year to the next. Who else was he going to leave it to? Besides, I'm chuffed to bits that he left me and Mum five grand each. That was a real surprise. We're going to have a smashing Christmas, after all. Kit Carroll can stuff his Christmas bonus up his turkey's arse."
She'd laughed and hugged me, and I knew things were all right between us. There was no bitterness, no resentment. I was very lucky to have my family. After all, they were all I had in the world.
Glancing around that crematorium yesterday, I'd realised that, like Great Uncle Charles, I would barely have anyone who'd want to say a final goodbye to me. The dismal funeral had been a glimpse of my future, and it’d filled me with a dread that no amount of money could shift.
I poured two mugs of tea, and had just carried them into the sitting room, when there was a knock on the door. Kit was bang on time.
He followed me into the room and sat down, when I indicated the sofa.
I took the chair opposite—Great Uncle Charles's chair—and eyed him suspiciously. "Your tea," I said, nodding at the mug on the coffee table between us.
"Thanks." He reached over and picked up the mug, cradling it in his hands and making no attempt to drink it. "Lovely and warm in here," he said, sounding nervous. "Absolutely bitter out there." He glanced around. "So, this was your uncle's house?"
"It was," I said. "It's mine now."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yours? He left it to you? Wow."
"There's a lot to do to it, of course," I said hurriedly. "It's not as classy as Fell House, but it will be beautiful when I've renovated and furnished it. It's a lot of work, but I'm looking forward to it."
"Right. Right. It's not far from my old home—where me and Jack lived with Mum and Dad before Grandad died, and we moved into Fell House." He glanced down at his tea for a moment, then back up at me. "There's nothing between me and Seffy, Marley."
I felt my throat tighten. "Who said there was?"
"I saw it in your face, and in your actions, ever since you saw us that night. You've pulled away from me again. She's just a friend."
"A friend you made after you abandoned me."
He stared at me. "I didn't abandon you! How can you say that?"
"Because it's true." There, it was out in the open, this huge thing that had been between us the whole time. "You said you loved me, but you left, anyway, even though you knew I didn't want you to go."
"But I wanted you to come with me! I begged you to come with me! I didn't want to leave you, but you knew I had to go. The way things were between me and my father ..."
"Which you never mentioned before then," I pointed out. "As far as I knew, you were one big happy family."
"Jesus, if you couldn't pick up the clues about our relationship from the things I'd said, or the way I'd kept you away from him for two years, there was something wrong with you. Maybe if you'd actually cared enough about me to pay attention to me, instead of plotting and scheming to become Lady of Fell House, you'd have realised how bad things were, and how desperate I was to get away from him."
I couldn't believe it! "Lady of Fell House? What the hell do you mean by that?"
"You," he said, sounding bitter. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? That's the reason you went out with me. Money. You thought I was your ticket to a posh house and that sodding sports car you always wanted."
"Bloody hell, not the sports car again! I was eleven years old! Are you insane? If you really believed I only went out with you for the money, why go out with me, at all?"
"I've often asked myself that very question," he snapped.
We glared at each other. Well, this was going well.
"Maybe I should just—" he began, then broke off at a loud banging on the front door.
I stood up. "I don't know who that would be," I said, a bit nervous.
It was dark outside, after all, and everyone local knew Great Uncle Charles had passed away. Did they also know I was the new owner? It could be anyone.
"Do you want me to get it?" Kit asked, as if reading the an
xiety in my face.
I drew myself up, determined not to show him I needed him. "It's fine. I'll go," I assured him, but added, "You wait there," as an insurance policy. I didn't want him clearing off home and leaving me with God knows who.
As I pulled open the front door, it was as if someone had pressed rewind on my life. I stared in shock at my father, who stood on the doorstep, a cheery smile on his face, as if he'd just popped round for a cup of tea and hadn't been missing from my life for the last sixteen years.
"Marley, love. Don't you look all grown up!"
Considering I'd only been fourteen the last time he saw me, it was no wonder that I looked grown up to him. I was grown up. I was thirty years old. For some annoying reason, though, I no longer felt it. As I looked into his eyes, I was fourteen again, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. I just stared at him, completely tongue-tied.
He grinned at me. "Bit of a shock, eh? Look, are you going to invite me in? Only, it's bloody freezing out here."
I blinked and stepped aside. "Yeah, yes, of course. Come in."
Kit half stood, as I led my father into the sitting room. Dad stopped, eyeing Kit warily. "Have I interrupted something?"
"Not at all," I said firmly. "Dad, this is Christopher Carroll. Kit, this—this is my dad."
The two men gaped at each other, and it was hard to say who looked most surprised.
"Christopher Carroll? Well, there's a turn up for the books," Dad said eventually. He turned to me, clearly puzzled. "Are you two together, then?"
Kit and I shuffled awkwardly. "Perhaps I should leave you both to it," Kit said. "You must have a lot to talk about."
I'd been about to say that was probably a good idea, but my father got there first. "That's right. Me and Marley have things to discuss in private, so if you don't mind."
Something snapped inside me. Who the hell did he think he was, acting all high-handed like that? He couldn't just waltz back into my life and take over. As Kit moved towards the door, I put my hand on his arm. He looked at me, surprised.