by Marie Laval
‘Don’t you dare!’ Her face heating up, she cast her grandfather a warning glance, but he carried on, ‘We call her Trifle.’
Stefan looked at her and arched his eyebrows. ‘Trifle?’
‘It’s a pudding,’ her granddad explained. ‘Layers of sponge soaked in sherry, custard cream, jelly and whipped cream. It’s pretty, soft, and sweet, like our Cassie.’
Cassie’s face now burnt so much it hurt. What was wrong with her grandfather today? Why was he hell-bent on humiliating her in front of their guest?
‘Oh. Hmm… Right. I know what it is, but I can’t say I’ve ever eaten any.’ Stefan Lambert’s expression was unfathomable.
While everybody was busy fussing, getting him a plate, a glass and some cutlery, he turned to her and asked in a low voice, ‘What did Mason say about the tyres?’
‘That I had been very unlucky and promised to order new ones tomorrow. In the meantime he lent me his old Land Rover.’
Stefan looked puzzled. ‘Bad luck had nothing to do with it. Didn’t you tell him it was Darren Morse who—’
‘I know that’s what you think.’ She remembered that he had called her naïve the night before – but she knew he meant ‘stupid’. ‘But you’re wrong about Darren. I didn’t tell Mason anything. I didn’t tell my granddad either, so please don’t mention it. He would only worry.’
Stefan’s eyes turned dark and stormy, but before he could speak, Tim placed a glass of brandy in front of him, Rachel put a large slab of cake onto his plate, and her granddad asked him if he had enjoyed his walk.
‘Very much so,’ he replied. ‘The paths from Belthorn are in good condition, and well signposted.’
That sparked a general conversation about the erosion of tracks, the unpredictability of the weather, and dangers run by ill-equipped walkers who set off in flimsy clothes and flip-flops to climb the fells, or relied on apps on their mobile phones to find their way instead of planning their walk using ‘good, old-fashioned common sense,’ Tim said, shaking his head.
‘You wouldn’t believe the number of folks who call here, weak and exhausted because they misjudged the distance or the terrain, didn’t look at the weather forecast, and don’t even have a map or a compass.’
He turned to Stefan and smiled. ‘I bet you set off well prepared for your walk this morning.’
‘Charlie’s sister gave me several maps of the area when I picked up the keys to Belthorn Manor at Charlie’s London flat.’
‘You know the family well, then?’ Rachel asked.
Stefan nodded. ‘I can’t say I know Gabrielle very well, but Charlie’s a good friend.’
‘Gabrielle Ashville always thought she was too good for us lowly peasants,’ Rachel remarked with a shrug, ‘but Charles is nice. Cassie said you worked with him in Africa.’
Something flashed in his eyes – regret or pain, it was hard to tell – but his face remained stony. ‘That’s right.’
Cassie burned to ask him what exactly had happened, but the tone of his voice didn’t invite any questions.
‘It’s a shame he rarely comes here,’ Tim remarked. ‘It would be good to see a member of the Ashville family at Belthorn Manor from time to time. At the very least, it would stop Piers Hardy behaving like he owns the estate. That man is a bully and it’s high time he was put down a peg or two.’ He clenched his fingers around his glass and shook his head.
‘Last time we saw Charles and his sister was at their father’s funeral,’ Rachel said. ‘They both looked as if they couldn’t wait to get away, which is understandable given the circumstances, I suppose. And of course there is the small matter of the curse.’
Stefan frowned. ‘What curse?’
Cassie turned to Rachel and rolled her eyes. ‘Please don’t start with this old story.’
But Rachel ignored her and said in a gloomy voice, ‘The curse of the Grey Friar pursuing his terrible revenge on the Ashville family.’
She turned to Cassie. ‘You saw the Grey Friar, didn’t you? You should tell us about your nightmare Christmas party. It’s a long time since I heard the tale.’
Cassie’s throat tightened. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.’
‘Come on, Cassie. It’s a good story, and surely you want Stefan to know about the strange things that may happen while he is all alone at Belthorn?’ Rachel’s cheeks were flushed, probably because of the three glasses of sparkly wine she had enjoyed at lunchtime.
‘No, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Cassie warned, but her cousin only giggled and turned to Stefan. ‘Cassie and her friends made a campfire near Wolf Tarn, and while the others were enjoying themselves Cassie wandered off and some horrible spectre of doom appeared on the—’
‘Rachel, please,’ Cassie cried out. Why was everyone in her family trying to annoy her and make her look stupid today?
Rachel glanced at her and shrugged. ‘As you wish, but it’s a good story.’
‘It wasn’t a story. It was real.’
Rachel shrugged. ‘You may say so, but the police didn’t find anything.’
‘Cassie always had way too much imagination where Belthorn was concerned,’ her grandfather cut in. ‘Cassie’s grandma – my Elsie – was exactly the same. She was always claiming some lost spirit or other was talking to her. When it wasn’t her aunt Ruth, it was some long-forgotten Ashville lass pining away for her sweetheart, or that grey-cloaked friar that lurks in the ruined abbey to cause mischief.’
Cassie noticed that Stefan frowned when her granddad mentioned Ruth, as if he recognised the name, but she immediately dismissed the thought. How could he know about Ruth Merriweather?
Her granddad sighed and a wistful smile stretched his lips. ‘My Elsie sure kept me awake many a night with her silly tales.’
‘They weren’t all silly tales, Granddad,’ Cassie protested. ‘Grandma used to say places keep imprints of the past, and I for one believe she was right. I don’t care if you all think I’m crazy, or stupid, or both. I know what I saw, heard and felt that night. And before you say anything, no, I didn’t have too much to drink.’
Her granddad raised his hands in a calming gesture. ‘Don’t get yourself all upset, pet. Nobody is calling you crazy.’
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He looked old and tired suddenly.
‘Are you not feeling well?’ Cassie asked, concern replacing her bad mood.
He yawned again. ‘I’m a little sleepy, that’s all. It must be Rachel’s good food and that sparkly wine I drank at lunchtime.’
‘Then why don’t you have a rest while Rachel and I make some coffee?’ Cassie stood up, picked up a cushion from the sofa and put it on the armchair near the fireplace. ‘Come and sit here, you’ll be nice and warm.’
Rachel grumbled that she’d rather have another glass of Prosecco than coffee but dutifully got up and went into the kitchen to make a pot, and Cassie followed to help as soon as her grandfather was settled in his armchair.
‘I’m sorry I upset you before,’ Rachel said after she closed the door. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
Cassie sighed. ‘It’s all right, but I don’t want you to ever mention that night again, especially in front of guests.’
Rachel measured scoops of ground coffee for the coffee machine. ‘Talking about guests, once you get used to the scars on his face, I find Stefan Lambert very attractive, in a rough and rugged kind of way.’
‘You think so too?’ Cassie said without thinking, and immediately her cheeks started burning.
Rachel wagged her index finger at her. ‘Oh, oh! I see… You fancy him, don’t you?’
Cassie’s cheeks burned harder. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you acting all coy around our guest, and now turning red like a tomato when I mentioned that he is a bit of a hunk.’ Rachel lowered her voice. ‘I also noticed his gorgeous hazel eyes – or are they golden brown? And by the way, he looks at you like he’d rather gobble you up instead of my choco
late cake.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong, he thinks I’m ugly and stupid, he said as much yesterday.’
‘I may be a little tipsy, but I know what I see.’
Cassie couldn’t help it. She couldn’t understand it, and certainly didn’t want to feel that way, but she loved the thought that Stefan might find her pretty. It was utterly ridiculous since she’d only just met the man and he wasn’t even nice to her. What’s more, he wasn’t her type at all. She preferred trendy, dark-haired and moody interior designers… didn’t she?
Rachel pointed at Cassie’s new top. ‘That top really suits you, you know. It clings to all your good bits. You should wear things like that more often, instead of your baggy dungarees. It’s no wonder you’ve ended up an old spinster.’
Cassie finished slotting dirty plates in the dishwasher and curled her fists on her hips. ‘I’m not that old! I’m only twenty-eight. And I can hardly wear nice clothes to clean houses, can I?’
She paused, and lowered her voice. ‘But seriously, do you really think that Stefan finds me attractive?’ It was like being sixteen all over again, and whispering about boys from the local college or the farm hands Rachel’s father used to hire for the summer. Rachel may be a few years older but she had been her friend long before she married Cassie’s cousin Tim. In fact, she was the one who had asked Cassie to sing backup vocals in the Bananarama tribute band she and two other friends had formed. Why Bananarama, Cassie had never understood. There were more up-to-date bands they could have copied from, but the tribute band had been a laugh, if not a success.
‘I wouldn’t have said so if I thought otherwise.’ Rachel laughed and pecked a kiss on Cassie’s cheek. ‘Now go back there and charm him with your witty conversation, your lovely smile and sexy cleavage while I make the coffee and finish tidying up in here.’
Cassie went back to the dining room to find that Louis’s two younger brothers had come back indoors after playing with the new metal detector. Their cheeks were bright red with the cold and their fine blond hair crackled with static electricity as they pulled their woolly scarves and hats off.
‘We didn’t find any gold,’ Ollie complained, ‘only a few coins and some old bolts and nails. We’ll have to look somewhere else if we want real treasure.’
‘The quarry is out of bounds, is that clear?’ Tim warned. ‘It’s a dangerous place, and if I ever find out you’ve been there, you will be grounded, like your brother. It was lucky Mr Lambert brought him home or he might have been seriously injured.’
The boys stared at Stefan, and William, the youngest, said, ‘Who is he? He looks weird.’
His brother elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Shut up. You’re being rude.’
Will elbowed him back and said in a loud whisper. ‘Why? It’s the truth. He has scars on his face, and his nose is all bent. Maybe he’s a wrestler like on the telly, or a boxer.’
Tim stood up, a stern look on his face. ‘That’s enough, you two. Go up and wash your hands.’
‘Sorry about that,’ he told Stefan when the boys had disappeared upstairs.
‘Don’t worry about it. Children are always curious about strangers,’ Stefan replied, ‘especially ones who look like me.’
‘Still, they should know better than to be rude to a guest. I’ll go and check on them before they flood the bathroom,’ Tim said and left the room.
Stefan looked at Cassie, then at the window. ‘I’d better make a move.’
He winced as he rose to his feet. He may not like to admit it, but he was probably in pain, like the day before.
‘I’ll drive you back after we’ve had some coffee,’ Cassie decided.
He frowned. ‘Thanks, but that’s not necessary. Besides, it looks like your grandfather won’t be ready to leave for some time.’ He gestured towards the rocking chair where her granddad was asleep and snoring softly, his feet resting on the padded stool in front of the fire.
‘Don’t worry about him. He’s staying here for a few days. He claims he wants to help out at the farm, but what he really wants is to spend time with the children. He dotes on the boys.’
Evening shadows now filled the lounge, so Cassie switched on a couple of lamps. A layer of frost already coated the outside edges of the windows, drawing delicate lace-like patterns on the glass. Inside the farmhouse, however, it felt warm and cosy, as always. It wasn’t just because of the flames dancing in the fireplace and reflecting on the polished copper plates on the walls; the mismatched plates on the dresser; or the maroon sofa and chairs that seemed to have been there forever. It was the warmth from Rachel’s family, and the love that was woven into the very fabric of the house. Perhaps one day she too would have a house filled with joy and children’s laughter.
Stefan Lambert was looking at her. The flames from the fireplace cast trembling shadows on his face and reflected into his eyes, giving them the depth and the colour of summer dusk. Any coherent thought immediately evaporated from her mind like mist under the sun. It was the same pull of attraction as the night before in the Range Rover, only ten times stronger.
They didn’t move, didn’t talk. The only sounds in the room were the tick-tock of the clock, the crackling of the fire, her granddad’s snoring, and the pounding of her heart.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Sorry it took so long.’ Rachel walked in, carrying a tray with steaming cups of coffee, a jug of milk and a pot filled with sugar. ‘Where is Tim?’
Cassie turned to her cousin, with soft, faraway eyes. ‘He went upstairs with the boys to make sure they washed their hands.’
In need of a few seconds to catch his breath, Stefan grabbed hold of the poker and bent down to stab it at the logs. Ribbons of red sparks flew up into the chimney like fireflies.
What had just happened?
It had been different from the dizzy rush of attraction of the previous night. This time it had felt as if Cassie and he were alone in the same dream, and he had seen something in her eyes, something like…
He clenched his fingers around the poker. No, he wouldn’t go down that route. It was crazy to imagine, even for one second, that Cassie could be attracted to him, and have feelings for him. They had only just met. She didn’t know anything about him or his past, didn’t know what he had done, or hadn’t done, and what he was capable – or incapable – of…
He put the poker back and straightened up, clenching his jaw against the worsening ache in his back and shoulders. He was tired from his walk, the brandy had gone to his head, and the warmth of the farmhouse had done the rest, mellowing him and blurring the distinction between reality and wishful thinking.
And, of course, he was drawn to her. How could he not be when her lips were smooth and pink, and always ready to stretch into a smile, and her grey eyes sparkled with kindness and intelligence? He wanted to kiss the adorable dimples in her soft, round cheeks, nuzzle the side of her neck, savour the taste of her skin and breathe in her fresh, feminine scent. He wanted to touch her, linger on the curves on her hips and pull her against him, and…
This was madness! He couldn’t even remember when he had last been that attracted to a woman. He’d better pull himself together. At least the walk back in the freezing cold would take care of the fiery need in his body even if it would do nothing to cool the arousing images his feverish imagination kept conjuring.
Tim came back downstairs, Cassie’s grandfather woke up from his nap, and suddenly everybody was talking about someone’s forthcoming wedding. Stefan tore himself from his heated thoughts, sat at the table with the others and tried to focus on the conversation.
‘Kerry is driving us crazy,’ Rachel said. ‘Only last week she was happy with a no-fuss reception at the campsite with only a few friends and family and asked that guests give money to an orangutans sanctuary in Malaysia in lieu of wedding presents, and now she’s complaining that it’s going to be a disaster and has us all tearing our hair out.’
‘But the wedding is in a fortnight’s time. Surely it’s
too late to organise anything,’ Cassie’s grandfather objected.
Rachel shook her head. ‘Try telling her that.’
Tim patted his wife’s shoulder. ‘I’m glad you weren’t as fussy as your sister.’ He looked at Stefan and explained, ‘We got married at the church in the village and had our reception at the Eagle and Child.’
‘Then we came back here, got changed and put in a few hours’ work,’ Rachel interrupted, her eyes twinkling with laughter. ‘I had to feed the animals and shovel muck on my wedding night.’
‘Your Kerry isn’t marrying a farmer, but a solicitor from John Hartley’s firm,’ Tim remarked. ‘Mind you, Alastair is so work-obsessed I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t get her to type a few reports on his wedding night.’
‘That’s a lot of fuss for what should be a happy day,’ Joseph Bell said. ‘You should tell Kerry that what matters isn’t the fancy reception but the life she’s going to make with her young man afterwards.’
‘She’s worried Alastair’s London friends and family find her rough and uneducated, and think we’re all peasants,’ Rachel said.
‘But we are peasants, my love,’ Tim told his wife.
She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Speak for yourself. I am a part-time secretary at the village school! But seriously, I feel for my sister. I know she’s a pain, but most of Alastair’s relatives and friends are quite posh and snooty, and she is desperate to impress them.’
Rachel and Tim carried on talking, but Cassie didn’t join in the conversation. She sipped her coffee, her fingers fiddling restlessly with her spoon, and seemed to take great pains to avoid looking at him. It wasn’t surprising. She must be terribly embarrassed and perhaps a little scared of him after the way he had stared at her – like a starving man at a feast…
‘By the way, Joseph,’ Tim said, ‘I hope you have a few new jokes for Comedy Night. Not long to go now.’
The elderly man stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. ‘I have indeed been working on my new repertoire, although I still intend to perform some of my old classics or else people will be disappointed.’