His mother had screamed. His nonna had asked for a replacement. The horrible old man had refused. His sisters had offered him some of theirs, and he had accepted, taking a lick from each. But they had chosen strawberry, lemon or vanilla. Not one of them had chosen chocolate. Vincent had craved chocolate ice cream all the way home, and for days afterwards.
That was how he felt right now. Admiring Grace in her sexy underwear, he knew he couldn’t have her. She had been snatched away from him, as surely as that chocolate ice cream, and he would crave her for days.
Grace said, ‘It’s fine. I understand. There will be other times. When your friend is better.’
‘I’d like that.’
She headed to the bathroom. Within a couple of minutes she appeared up top, wearing her day outfit. Vincent was preparing the yacht to return to Lynton Haven.
‘Will you need my help getting back?’ Grace asked. ‘Graham used to have a yacht. I know my knots.’
‘No. It’s fine. I can manage. But thank you.’ Vincent finished lowering the sails.
‘Are you going to use the motor?’
‘Yes. I think I ought to.’ Pressing a button, Vincent heard the motor spring to life. They’d be back in the marina in no time, and he would have to watch Grace walk out of his life forever. Leaving him to play happy families with Abbie, her baby and her goon of a dad. He could’ve wept.
50
Lottie – 2018
Lottie and Dixie had been sleeping in Jennifer’s spare room for over a month. Attempting to find work, with no real experience of anything useful, Lottie filled her days with hopeless job hunts. Not just because she knew she couldn’t keep borrowing money from her friends, but because when she was concentrating on the Job Vacancies, she wasn’t thinking about all she’d lost. So far, despite wanting to, she hadn’t given in to the temptation to go back ‘home’.
But then, this morning, the pull of Mulberry House had simply become too much to bear.
A fox had been screaming all night, and the unnerving sound had invaded her dreams, causing them to turn malevolent. Images of her dad in the stream had been swiftly replaced by equally horrific ones of her mum, motionless and cold on her bed.
By the time the birds had begun to announce the arrival of a new day, Lottie had been wide awake, with not a hope of getting any more rest. Lying still and silent in her bed for an hour, waiting for a reasonable time to get up, she had tried to concentrate on happier times. Family times. These thoughts had naturally taken her mind to her childhood home, and the need to return had been strong.
With an excuse that there was a job she needed to check out across town, Lottie asked to borrow Jennifer’s car.
Desperate to help and still half asleep, Jennifer accepted the excuse and handed over the car keys willingly. ‘Sure, I don’t need it today. What job is it?’
‘Shop assistant.’
‘Do you even …?’ Jennifer hesitated.
‘No, I don’t know anything about being a bloody shop assistant. But I know even less about being an office cleaner, and I’ve applied for a job as one of those too.’
‘Fair enough.’ Changing the subject, Jennifer asked, ‘Do you want some breakfast before you leave?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Good luck, then.’
‘Thank you.’ Lottie took the keys. ‘And thanks for the loan of the car.’ She vaguely wondered if Dixie would like to join her, before deciding things were emotional enough without adding Dixie crying to get out of the car and go back to Mulberry House into the mix. Besides, she was sound asleep in her basket. Better to leave her.
Just seeing the old road signs and landmarks brought a lump to her throat. She knew she shouldn’t go anywhere near the house. And yet, where else was she going? Who was she trying to kid? Like a homing pigeon, she was heading towards Mulberry House, and no attempt at logical thinking was going to stop her.
She drove past the driveway slowly, checking for Vincent’s cars. His MG was there, lovingly polished to perfection. But his Merc was gone. She took that to mean he was out.
Lottie drove on. Purposely parking Jennifer’s car a short walk away in a lay-by, she headed back. Did she dare go onto the driveway?
She edged her way in, knowing Vincent might appear at any moment. If he caught her there, he’d go ballistic. But for God’s sake, this was her house. Her home! How dare he get mad at her for wanting to see it? She checked her phone; it was still only 9am. Either he hadn’t returned yet from a big night out, or he had already headed off to London on a buying spree. How long did she have?
Making her way around the side of the house, Lottie stared through the windows on the ground floor. What had he done? The rooms were different. The furniture had been moved, and new furniture had been added. It didn’t match. It was vulgar. Vincent might like to think he was a man of taste, he might stick out his little finger when sipping tea, but ultimately he was a crass man who had been handed a vast sum of money and a sophisticated house, and he simply wasn’t up to the job of dressing it. He must’ve fallen for some salesman’s patter. What he had been told were antiques were most definitely not. He was such an ignorant pig!
The sound of tyres on the gravel alerted Lottie to the fact that a car had arrived. Pushing her bottom to the wall and standing on tiptoe in an effort to merge with the house, she held her breath.
Peeking around the corner, she watched Vincent stride across the drive from his Merc to the front door. Whistling as he walked, his head was held high and he was infuriatingly happy. He also seemed a bit taller than usual. Oh, Vincent, you knob. Have you bought lifts for your shoes? One last glance back at his beloved cars, and he was in the house. The front door closed with a bang behind him, and Lottie allowed the breath she’d been holding to escape from her lungs.
Once she was sure he wasn’t going to come back out and discover her, she carefully made her way across the driveway and out onto the road. Not once did she look back at the house, frightened that the man she hated more than anything else in the world might be standing in the doorway. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was scared of him and what he might be capable of.
Back in Jennifer’s car, she sat for a while, her legs shaking too much to control the clutch. What a stupid thing to do. How had that helped at all? All she had achieved was to make herself feel even more homesick for a life that was no longer hers.
Once her legs had steadied and she was able to drive, Lottie pulled out into the road. Unsure exactly where she wanted to go next, she drove by instinct. Around and around the old familiar streets, past the places she’d walked Dixie hundreds of times, down Heath Lane to see the back of their old estate, and lastly to the village, where she stopped at the little shop. Realising how thirsty she was, she popped in for a bottle of water, and was pleased to see that today the shop was staffed by a young girl she didn’t know, rather than Mrs Delamont herself. Lottie had no desire for questions. Jean Delamont had been wonderfully supportive over both her parents’ deaths, and the thought of having to explain why she no longer lived at the house was too awful.
Walking back to her car, Lottie opened the water and took a swig.
‘You don’t wanna go shopping there.’ A deep voice behind her made her jump.
‘What? Sorry?’
‘I said, you shouldn’t shop there. You ought to give it a swerve. That’s what us lot do.’ There was something slightly familiar about the young guy. She suspected he used to camp in the meadow. But he sure had grown. Now, well over six feet tall, he scarcely resembled the little boys she used to watch trudge back and forth to her house.
‘Why don’t you shop there?’
‘We just don’t. Not for years.’
‘Right.’ She raised her bottle in a kind of toast. ‘Well, thanks for the advice.’
‘We heard you’d moved out.’ He fell into step next to her.
‘Yes.’
‘Your stepdad lives there now?’
‘He’s not my stepd
ad.’
‘Thought he was.’
‘On paper only.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Sorry, what’s your name?’ Lottie decided if they were going to continue to have this conversation, she ought to find out exactly which lad she was talking to.
‘I’m Jayden. Don’t ya recognise me?’
‘Well … if I’m honest, you boys all looked the same to me.’
‘You sure you didn’t have a favourite?’ Jayden winked.
‘Pretty sure.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do remember you now. You were the cheeky one. Always far too gobby.’
‘Cheers.’ Jayden gave a goofy grin. ‘Anyway, what you doing around here if you don’t live there anymore?’
‘Just … you know … visiting.’
‘Why did he get the house?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘I wouldn’t have let him have it. It must be worth a fucking shed load of money.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ She wished Jayden hadn’t spoken to her. Having to admit that her entire inheritance had slipped through her fingers made her feel like such an idiot.
‘Still, you’re probably better off out of it.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It wasn’t a happy home, was it?’
‘Yes, it was!’
‘Couldn’t have been. Not with your old man lording it about the place?’
‘My dad didn’t lord it. He was …’ Lottie stopped. What was Douglas Thorogood? How best to describe him? ‘Besides, why are you talking about him like that? I thought you guys liked him.’
Jayden sneered. ‘What made you think that?’
‘You all came to his funeral.’
‘Yeah. We wanted to be sure.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure the evil bastard wasn’t coming back.’
Lottie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. Why would you say that about my dad? I remember you lads at the funeral, standing together, supporting each other; you were all upset. Why would you …?’
‘Upset? Yeah, right! Look, I hate to piss on your chips. Are you saying you really don’t know what your dad was?’
‘I’ve heard enough of this. What makes you think you can stop me in the street, tell me where I can and can’t buy water, and start slagging off my dead relatives? Get out of my way.’ Lottie pushed Jayden backwards, determined to get to Jennifer’s car.
‘Your dad was a fucking monster, and so was the old cunt who ran that place,’ Jayden shouted after her, pointing back at the village shop.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Lottie called over her shoulder as she unlocked the car.
Jumping in, she dropped the water bottle onto the passenger seat, started the engine and sped off, without putting on her seat belt. She could only assume that the boys had misbehaved or been rude, and that Arthur Delamont and her dad had been overly strict youth club leaders. Anything else didn’t bear thinking about.
51
Hannah – 2019
‘You’re not listening to me. I cannot give out information on Grosvenor clients.’
‘I am listening. But this is important.’
‘I would lose my job if I said one word to you.’
‘Right, that’s fine. Just look at this,’ Hannah placed the wedding photo of Vincent on the desk, ‘and nod if you’ve ever seen him before.’
‘Are you nuts?’
‘Just nod or shake your head.’
‘Do you have any idea how much trouble I’d get into if Mr Grosvenor knew I was talking to you?’
‘But you’re not talking. You’re just nodding or shaking your head.’
‘I need you to go.’
‘This man,’ Hannah poked her finger in the centre of Vincent’s face, ‘does not know that his mum is dying. I need to find him as soon as possible. I don’t have long. Would you want your mum to die without you there?’
‘For all you know, my mum already did.’
‘Sorry. Not a great example. But, please, have a heart. Tell me if this man has bought a boat from you. It’ll be a flashy one. He’s rich. We’re talking about 100 feet or something.’
‘Only thirty-four feet actually.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing.’ The salesman gestured towards the door. ‘You need to leave. It’s well after six, and I want to close up. I told you, I only stayed open to finish up paperwork with a client, not to be questioned like this.’
‘Was he the client?’ Hannah poked the photo again.
‘No. It was someone far more important. A billionaire, if you must know. I don’t work late for just anyone.’
She carried on regardless. ‘But I think you’ve seen him. Has he bought a boat?’
The salesman stood up. ‘You need to leave.’
Hannah snatched up the photograph from his desk. ‘What name is he using?’
‘What kind of a question is that? You stand there and tell me you need to find him to inform him that his mum’s dying, and then you ask me his name. I’m beginning to doubt you know this guy at all.’
‘It’s tricky. He doesn’t go by just one name. Please, I just need his surname.’
‘I think I’ll call the police and let them throw you out.’
‘Wait. He’s a really nice guy; his mum’s dying. He deserves to say goodbye. Doesn’t he?’
The salesman scoffed. ‘Now I know for a fact that you don’t know him. He’s anything but a really nice guy.’
Hannah got a twenty pound note out of her pocket. ‘Just his surname, please?’
‘Miss, you wouldn’t believe the commission I get from working here. A twenty means nothing. The man who was here before, the billionaire – the commission on his sale just paid my rent for three months.’
‘What then?’
‘There’s nothing you could give me. Honestly.’
Obviously tired of waiting outside and seeing that Hannah was getting nowhere, Lottie barged in. ‘Come on, Han, we’re not going to find him this way.’
The salesman’s eyebrows rose. Indicating that Lottie was more his type. ‘Are you looking for this bloke too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to tell him about his poor old dying mother as well?’
‘No, I want to slap him hard around the face. He’s my wicked stepdad.’
The salesman laughed. ‘I really wish I could tell you. You could give him an extra slap from me!’
‘But you can’t?’
‘No. Like I told your friend here, it’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘Can I ask you something unrelated?’
‘Go ahead.’ He was clearly far more open to being questioned by Lottie.
‘As a local, which would you say is the best fish and chip shop around here?’
‘Pete’s Plaice, end of this road, turn left and you can’t miss it.’ The salesman pointed. ‘That’s one of the benefits of being so close to the sea – really fresh fish.’
‘Thanks.’ Lottie treated him to her most dazzling smile.
‘No problem.’ He showed them to the door. ‘Just one more thing …’
‘Yes?’
‘If it’s not too breezy for you, you could take your fish and chips down to the marina to eat them. There are some impressive boats moored there.’
The girls shot each other a glance.
Hannah blew on a chip. ‘Do you think any of those are his?’ She waved the chip in the direction of the moored yachts.
‘I’d say one of them must be. That’s what the guy was hinting at.’ Lottie held her food in the air with one hand as she effortlessly sat herself down on the jetty.
‘He could’ve given us a clue. I mean apart from letting it slip that Vincent’s yacht is only a paltry thirty-four feet long.’
‘Which doesn’t help us at all, because I for one have absolutely no idea how long thirty-four feet are.’
‘Erm
… nowhere near as long as your fancy drawing room used to be, I’d say.’
‘Tiny then.’ Lottie dangled her feet over the side. ‘Do you think he’s in one of those boats now?’
‘I doubt it. Why would he tie it up and stay in it? Here, hold these for me. I’m not as nimble as you. I never had ballet lessons.’ Hannah handed her fish and chips to Lottie and sat down next to her. Retrieving her food, she said, ‘He’s probably out there, somewhere.’ She pointed out to sea.
‘I can’t see any boats moving.’
‘No. I reckon he’s dropped anchor and is settled for the night.’
‘So, Officer Dibble, what do we do?’ Lottie asked.
‘Finish our dinner, for a start.’
They ate in silence for a while, watching the boats bob up and down in the marina.
Lottie stretched. ‘I’m full. Such huge portions. Thanks for buying me dinner.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll put it down as expenses.’
‘So, this treat is on Cristina?’
‘Yes. My client!’ Hannah felt proud. Obviously, she was charging Miss Rocchino the bare minimum for the case. Finding Vincent was probably going to help Lottie a heck of a lot more than it was going to help his sister. But, minimum fee or not, she still had a client and a minute expense account.
‘If we find him, do we tell your client where he is, or do I get to confront him first?’
‘What do you think is best?’
Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1) Page 17