by Terry Tyler
LAST CHILD
Terry Tyler
©Terry Tyler 2015
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, without the express written permission of Terry Tyler.
All rights reserved.
Thank you to my beloved husband, Mark, my proofreading sister, Julia,
everyone who reads and enjoys my books, and all my Twitter friends who help spread the word.
CONTENTS
Introduction
Part One - The Son and Heir
Chapter One ~ Hannah: March—October 2008
Chapter Two ~ Jaz: January 2009—July 2010
Chapter Three ~ Hannah: July—August 2010
Chapter Four ~ Raine: August 2010
Part Two - The Eldest Daughter
Chapter Five ~ Hannah: August 19th, 2010
Chapter Six ~ Isabella: August 2010—May 2011
Chapter Seven ~ Hannah: May—June 2011
Chapter Eight ~ Isabella: June 2011—March 2012
Chapter Nine ~ Jane: March—November 2012
Part Three - The Last Child
Chapter Ten ~ Robert and Amy: December 2012—April 2014
Chapter Eleven ~ Erin: April—December 2014
Epilogue ~ Hannah: March 2015
INTRODUCTION
Last Child is the sequel to Kings and Queens. Although it can be read on its own, the dynamics of the family business and relationships will mean much more if you have read the first book.
Kings and Queens tells the story of charismatic property developer Harry Lanchester. Narrated through the eyes of his best friend, Will, and the six women in his life, it is a modern day parallel of the sixteenth-century era of Henry VIII and his six wives.
Last Child tells of Harry’s heirs, and mirrors the years after Henry VIII’s death, when the country was ruled first by a Regency Council representing the boy king Edward VI, then by Mary (along with Philip of Spain), and finally by Elizabeth I. Those who have read Kings and Queens will already have met Harry Lanchester’s children: Isabella, Erin and Jasper.
The kingdom of the Lanchesters is their company, Lanchester Estates, the family home of Lanchester Hall, their castle.
The story so far: Harry is dead, with twelve-year-old Jasper named as his heir. Jasper’s uncle, Ned Seymour, has been appointed to run the company in his stead with help from various directors, including the ambitious Jim Dudley. At home, Jasper and seventeen-year-old Erin are now in the care of their stepmother, Kate, who has recently married Jasper’s younger uncle, Aiden Seymour. Erin and Jasper’s former nanny, Hannah Cleveley, is still very much part of their lives and a beloved friend of the family. Isabella lives alone, nearby.
In Last Child I’ve struck slightly more of a balance between historical fact and the saga of the Lanchesters (and the Dudleys), as I felt that readers would care more about what happens to the family and friends they’ve got to know than having some detail in the battle for the Tudor throne cleverly illustrated. Two characters wander away from their historical reflection, namely Jim Dudley and Raine Grey, my modern day John Dudley and Lady Jane Grey. The Tudor pair were father and daughter-in-law who met early deaths by execution, but Jim and Raine's connection is different, and I felt that they warranted continued life (and so much more). One of the main difficulties in writing these two books has simply been that in those days people were more likely to die before their time, and certainly so within the royal court; I’ve had to find alternative ways to ‘despatch’ characters. However, the basic story and relationships run along the same lines as the history, as I did not want to disappoint the Tudor addicts; I am one myself.
Last Child is divided into three parts, representing the ‘reigns’ of Jasper Junior (Edward VI), Isabella (Mary) and Erin (Elizabeth). For anyone who knows little about this era in history and would like to know more before starting to read, I have written a brief account of the period this story represents, which should only take you a few minutes to read. See it HERE. A similar post is available at the beginning of Kings and Queens.
PART ONE
The Son and Heir
Chapter One
Hannah
March—October 2008
I think of Isabella, Erin, and Jasper Junior as my family, not least because I scarcely have one of my own.
My own father zoomed off on a Harley the week I was born, never to be seen again, and my mother shed all parental responsibility as soon as she could. My sister Sybil lives in dried-out wedded bliss with her saviour, John Frederick, and has proved to be as selfish in sobriety as she was in addiction; she seldom gets in touch. The only other person who ever meant much to me was Luke Bromwell, former financial whiz kid of Lanchester Estates and now an American citizen. Did you know that approximately one out of five marriages originates online, these days? Luke married a Wisconsin girl he met on Myspace. I miss him. E-mailing isn’t enough.
Some think my attachment to the Lanchester family stems from my brief affair with the children’s late father, especially as there has been no man in my life since, but it doesn’t, and Harry’s rejection of me is not the reason for my celibacy, either. It’s true that he was a hard act to follow, but some people need romance and passion like they need air to breathe, and some don’t. I belong to the latter camp. I’m happy to be a friend and confidante to those who need help in related crises, but have no desire to experience the despair that so often follows the joy. I’m content. I run a successful nanny agency called Heaven Sent, and have Dorothy and Parker, my two beloved Westies, for company. We live in a small detached house on Greenwich Park, Eltham, in Hertfordshire, given to me as a parting gift by Harry Lanchester himself; having grown up on the graffiti-covered hell that is the Fuller Estate in SE15, I appreciate its size, peace, comfort and privacy every day of my life. Best of all, I have my ‘children’: Isabella, Erin and Jasper—or Jaz, as he now wishes to be known.
They’re hardly children now, though.
Isabella was thirty-one when Harry suffered that fatal heart attack in 2007. After the will was read she bought a secluded old rectory in the nearby village of Hunsdon, where she lives an oddly solitary life. She’s one of those girls whose looks other women admire (tall, fair, skinny) but her love life is more or less non-existent, as far as I know. Sadly, she remains unaware of her invisible ‘Keep Out’ barrier, generally perceived to be the result of her parents’ divorce when she was just thirteen. Her bitterness about it has pervaded every area of her life, alas. I hear she works diligently in her role as head of Sales and Marketing at Lanchester Estates, but antagonises her co-workers and imagines conspiracies where there are none. She talks to me of her busy life and the part she plays in the upbringing of Jaz, but she’s lonely, I know she is. Her only close friend is Jane Dormer, her secretary, a cheerful redhead, short and slightly pudgy in a rather appealing way, the perfect foil for Isabella. They go out and about together; perhaps they go ‘on the pull’, too. Some suspect them to be a couple, but I don’t think so.
Is it wrong of me to have a favourite out of the three of them? Maybe it’s permissible if you’re a nanny rather than a parent. I can’t help it, I just adore Erin. She’s beautiful rather than just pretty, fiery, outspoken, independent, so like Harry and, I am told, her mother, the ill-fated Annette. She was almost seventeen when she lost her father, and took it so badly; I worried for her when her stepmother, Kate, married Aiden Seymour. A strange domestic situation, having a youthful, attractive man only six
teen years her senior taking Harry’s place within six months of his death.
I was right to worry, as we were to discover.
My children, my children—if I say they’re as much the centre of my world as my dogs and my business, does that make me what Jaz would call ‘sad’? They visit me often, I spoil them and give the younger two sumptuous things to eat that would never darken the fridge of self-disciplined Isabella. I make old fashioned, ‘nursery’ food, the sort Harry loved, wonderful cakes and desserts—and I eat them all, now, too. I dieted away my excess weight when I wanted to fit in with the beautiful people of Lanchester Hall, but I’ve relaxed now that there is nobody to inspect what lies beneath my clothes. I’ve adapted my wardrobe to my figure, instead of getting depressed because I look like a baby rhino in jeans, and I don’t hide away in head-to-toe black anymore, either. I’m not one of the ‘big is beautiful’ brigade, because it’s not, particularly, but I’d rather enjoy the food I love than be slim, so I dress accordingly. Thank God the clothing industry now recognises the plus size.
Sometimes, I feel my size gives me more substance psychologically, too. I like to feel solid, reliable. Needed.
I like that the children need me.
Jaz has grown tall, like his father, with the appearance of one older than his years, and an air of entitlement that comes from having been treated like a prince from the day he was born. Harry’s childhood best friend, Will Brandon, told me Harry was the same at that age, never feeling the need to justify or defend his actions. Jaz has long held the attitude that he can do as he wishes, because soon he will be king of all he surveys. Yet he’s by no means objectionable. He’s a sweet kid; we all love him.
“It’s the Lanchester charisma,” Will told me. “Jaz and Erin have it in spades, just like Harry.”
Jaz’s uncle, Ned Seymour, was appointed to manage the company until his nephew’s coming of age, with assistance from the other directors, the most colourful of whom is Jim Dudley. Then there’s Isabella as head of Sales and Marketing, and Will, but I can’t remember the names of the rest of them despite how hard I listen when I’m told. The office politics sound terribly complicated. Although I’m glad not to be too involved in this area of the children’s lives, I am kept regularly informed about the thrills and spills of the boardroom; once the initial shock of Harry’s death was past, I suspected it would not be long before the conflicting personalities and alliances stopped being respectful of his memory, and started jostling for pole position.
I gather there are two distinct factions, one headed by Ned Seymour and the other by Jim Dudley.
Unfortunately, Isabella and Erin support opposing teams.
The first rumblings of future discontent came one sunny Saturday morning in late March. I was sitting on the sofa in the living room, enjoying my weekly ritual of the Saturday Guardian with a latte and a croissant (okay, two), when I heard a car screech to a halt outside. With great reluctance, I abandoned my paper and got up to see if the impatient visitor was for me or my young next door neighbours, the friends of whom have a variety of flamboyant motoring habits.
Isabella is one of those people whose mood I prefer to assess before opening the door to greet her. She was already storming up the garden path; I could almost see the thundercloud above her head. By the time I’d turned from the window she was ringing the doorbell.
“You’ll never guess what my stupid, idiot child of a sister has done!” she said, allowing me to stand aside as she marched into the living room and plonked herself down on the sofa where I’d been sitting so peacefully with my half drunk coffee and half eaten croissant. “She’s only gone and sold five percent of her shares to Jim Dudley! Honestly, Hannah, I am spitting blood!”
Oh dear, oh dear.
When Lanchester Estates was created by the children’s great-grandfather, George Lanchester, and his brother, Edmund, tradition was established that nobody except immediate family would ever hold shares in the company. Harry upheld this. After his death, the state of play was that Jaz owned sixty percent, Isabella and Erin fifteen each, and their aunt Dahlia, ten.
I couldn’t believe Erin had done such a thing, either. Jim Dudley was a good chum of Harry’s but it wasn’t like he was an old family friend; he’d only started with the company around six years before.
I sat down. “What on earth made her do that?”
She waved a hand in the air. “Oh, he sussed her out as the weak link a while back, I’m sure of it. I’ve had my eye on him since he wrote to Auntie Dahlia with a similar request, giving her all this crap about being able to ensure the company ran more profitably if he was a shareholder, and offering her some ridiculous price. I mean, serious bucks. Happily, her husband opened the e-mail and told him no, so I imagine Dudley thought Erin would be the next easiest touch.”
“Blimey, it’s like Dallas,” I said, pondering for a moment. “Sorry, a bit before your time. But – hang on a minute, can Erin even do this, as she’s under eighteen? And what’s Dudley’s game plan?”
“His game plan? God knows. But Dahlia is the trustee of Erin’s shares until August; I gather Jim rang her up with Erin at his side and smarmed his way round her; he’s such a snake, and Dahlia’s got to that age when she’s hugely susceptible to flattery from any man who’s halfway good-looking.” She uttered a frustrated growl. “What with his sales pitch and Erin going on and on and on in the way she does, Dahlia just said, oh, what the hell, and caved in.”
“I’m surprised at Erin. I wouldn’t have thought she’d go against your dad’s wishes.”
“Yes, but Jim gave her all this talk about building hotels, about which she’s wildly excited, and to be honest I think she just wanted the cash for her trip to New York next month; her allowance doesn’t run to buying up half of Chloé and Oscar de la Renta.” She folded her arms. “On second thoughts, I can guess what Jim’s up to. I think he’s working towards Lanchester and Dudley Estates, and with no Daddy around he’s leaping in while the iron is hot.” She stopped frowning for a moment, and laughed. “’Scuse the mixed metaphor, you know what I mean!”
It was good to see her smile. Isabella’s face is one of those that is transformed by laughter; a pity she’s always so serious.
“Actually, I do know what you mean about Dallas,” she said, “Mum and I used to watch it on UK Gold when I was a teenager. You’re right—and he’s manipulating Erin via her relationship with Dudley Junior, too, I reckon.”
“Ah yes, of course. Very clever.”
“I’m sure Jim thinks so. Rob’s the golden boy, I’d hate him if he wasn’t so bloody charming and, I have to say, an asset to the company.” She bit her lip. “Just twenty-two, and the most efficient head of Transport we’ve ever had. Oh, and he’s still the front runner in Erin’s fan club, of course.”
“Is he? She does talk about him, but only with her secret smiles; I haven’t been given the full lowdown.” I stood up. “Coffee?”
Isabella followed me into the kitchen.
“They’re off one minute and on again the next,” she said. “She toys with him—you know Erin. Well, she’s her mother’s daughter, isn’t she?” I didn’t answer that. Most people keep Isabella away from the subject of Erin’s mother. “Yeah, you can certainly see the sparks flying between them,” she continued, picking at one of her nails.
She sounded bitter, and jealous. I’d only ever met Rob Dudley a few times, at family parties when he and Erin were seeing each other. Very handsome young man, tall and dark. They looked fabulous together.
I smiled at Isabella. “Charm aside, is he worthy of her, do you think?”
Another shoulder shrug. “He’s all right, actually. Not a slippery snake like Jim, but then he hasn’t battled his way up from the mean streets of Tyne and Wear. He’s just a nice guy—oh, and all the little girlies in General Accounts salivate over him, which I’m sure is part of the attraction as far as Erin’s concerned.”
As I spooned coffee into two mugs, a picture of Erin sashaying
down the office corridor in high heels, chestnut mane swinging down her back, popped into my head. “Do you think Rob influenced her to sell the shares?”
Isabella whipped the saucepan of milk off the hob before it boiled over; I wasn’t concentrating. “Dunno. I don’t think he’s underhand, not like Jim, but I imagine he saw the advantage in having Erin in their camp, not least to further his own cause; he’s obviously smitten, loath though I am to admit it.”
I wanted to hug her, but Izzy doesn’t do hugs. “Why so loath?”
She fixed me with a stare, and for a moment I thought she was going to open up to me, but then she looked away. “Because it’s not good for her to get everything she wants all the time, the way she does. It’s not good for her.”
We took our coffee back into the living room, and I looked rather sadly at my abandoned second croissant. I didn’t particularly want to sit there stuffing all those calories in front of the reed-slim Isabella.
“Will it have a bad effect on the company?” I asked. “Dudley being a shareholder, I mean.”
“I’m already stocking up on Valium,” Isabella said. “He and Ned communicate only with thinly veiled hostility as it is; Jim’s bound to parade his five percent in front of him on a daily basis.”
“Poor old Ned,” I said. “Stormy days ahead, then.”
“For sure. Jim’s desperate to prove himself. Daddy-in-law is Mr Guildford Hotels; I gather he keeps Jim and Jean in holiday villas and flashy motors. I’m guessing Jimbo wants to say ‘look at me, I can do it too’, and sees Erin as the way in.”
“It really is like Dallas!” I laughed. “Jim Dudley sounds like a man with a plan or ten.”
“He is, and he’s a right jumped up yobbo; they’re the worst, aren’t they?” She did that pinched together thing with her lips that I saw more and more often, the older she got. “Shame my father always had a perverse penchant for the street-sharp and classless. Remember Keira Howard? And Luke Bromwell?”