Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
S unday morning’s drive to Bannock House was actually very pleasant. There was a wintry breeze, signalling the definite arrival of December, but the coquettish sun persisted in flirting in and out of the stippled shreds of icy clouds.
Still, the secret I was keeping from Zach was very much on my mind. How long could I carry on like this? I didn’t want to lie to him or deceive him. It made me feel shabby. But, despite telling him I trusted him, how could I when it was his job to expose the truth?
I was even taking a risk driving back home. What if Zach was tailing me? It didn’t seem that likely, not after what had happened between us last night, but it wasn’t impossible. I checked my rear-view mirror but the coast was clear. It looked like I was the only car on the road.
I relaxed a little, though I was still struggling with a combination of guilt and longing. I wanted to be the person Zach thought I was. Despite my protestations that I’d never allow myself to fall for another man again, let alone trust one, here I was, doing it anyway.
When I stopped at some traffic lights, I studied my eyes in the little mirror on the back of the visor that I’d pulled down to protect against the bright flashes of occasional sunlight. My eyes were preoccupied and pale grey, like an unsettled loch on a winter’s day. Squirming nerves, like a basket of eels, slithered in my stomach.
As I left behind the main roads, the familiar scenery of the countryside emerged. In the distance, there was the faint, craggy hillside. the thrusting peaks of the roofs and the higgledy-piggledy shops. Everything looked festive, as though it had been sprinkled with glitter.
I passed the familiar spread of farmers’ fields on the left, with their shaggy, amber-haired Highland cattle and then turned right into the private road that led up to my family home. The trees on either side thrust their branches in dramatic, twisted curves, casting spidery shadows over the roof of my car. The Georgian wrought-iron gate with its fussy leaf carvings stared back at me as if to say, “Oh, long time, no see!”
I got out of the car and jabbed the security code into the panel that was wired into one of the gate posts. It still worked. It hadn’t been changed since I was last here over a year ago. My parents were rather lackadaisical about that sort of thing.
The gates glided open.
My tyres crunched over the driveway gravel, with its candy-pink chips, grumbling in consternation as I passed banks of rustling undergrowth.
It felt like I’d never left.
Bannock House glinted under the intermittent rays of the watery sun, its grey coade stone proud and resilient against the Scottish weather.
The house had two storeys and a taller central tower with numerous other turrets rising phoenix-like from its high walls. The entrance was imposing and consisted of a large oak door which was reached via a broad set of stone steps.
An impressive walled garden was situated at the rear, which contained an arboretum dating back to the late nineteenth century and nurtured many glorious North American conifers. Surrounding that was an abundance of various trees, ranging from elm and sycamore to beech and Scots pine. The gardens still captivated me every bit as much as they did when I was a child.
I parked my car at the rear of the house and collected my handbag from the passenger seat. The throb of birdsong felt like a welcome serenade.
My favourite go-to place here, apart from the sprawling gardens, was the library. It was an alcove affair in beech wood, with a single high window and a gothic-style fireplace. There was a Cairngorm tartan rug on the floor in a palette of greys.
I used to love perching myself on a stool, surrounded by the volumes of books and drinking in the scent of paper and the delicate floral perfume of Scottish bluebells, which Mum would place in a china vase on the nest of tables.
I made my way across the gravel and round to the front entrance to be greeted by a surprised and delighted-looking Mrs Bamber, our housekeeper. She bounded out of the door. “Miss Anastasia! Oh, my goodness!”
She enveloped me in her arms and I clung to her. She was as much a fixture of the house as the arboretum was.
“How are you, Mrs Bamber?” I asked. “All well?”
Mrs Bamber’s apple-cheeked face glowed. “Stanley and the boys and I are grand.” She sighed, drinking in my appearance. Her hazel eyes sparkled at me with affection. “It’s been too long. Far too long. And look at you! All grown up and sophisticated.” She stroked my ponytail. “I almost didn’t recognise you.”
I laughed. “I take it you mean in a good way.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, Miss Anastasia. But yes, I must admit I do. You look wonderful.” She asked me if anyone was expecting me and how things were going with Flower Power .
“Everything’s fine. Well, more than fine actually. The shop’s doing great.” I hesitated. “Business is picking up now after a bit of a slow start.” I dropped my voice. “And no, I’m not expected.”
Then I mentioned Marcus and Mrs Bamber’s expression darkened. “Aye. The poor lad. That Jacob turned out to be a right charlatan.” She drew a little closer. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Miss Anastasia, but I never warmed to the man. I always thought there was something right shifty about him.”
“Mrs Bamber? What’s going on? Who is it?”
I looked over Mrs Bamber’s shoulder at my mother emerging into the hall. Both our eyes locked on one another.
Mum’s lip sticked mouth fell open. “Anastasia? Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” She bounded over the polished, black-and-white chequered hall floor and bundled me into her arms. Her words came out in one long rush. “It’s wonderful to see you. Your dad’s out on the golf course. I’ll ring him.”
“No, don’t do that,” I laughed. “He’ll never forgive us.”
Mum was wearing one of her heavy trouser suits. This one was in ghost grey.
I gave Mrs Bamber’s arm a supportive squeeze.
“I’ll go and rustle up some tea,” she insisted. “And you couldn’t have timed this any better. I’ve just finished icing a ginger cake.”
I smiled fondly after Mrs Bamber, aware that my mother was still staring at me, as though I was some kind of apparition.
I pointed at Mum’s trouser suit. “A New York purchase? It’s lovely.”
She nodded and beamed at me, her dark coiffed hair skimming her shoulders. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. Oh, you do look so well!”
I glanced about the hall, as though seeing the sweeping watercolours and elaborate urns of grassy reeds for the first time. Two sage-green Christmas trees were standing to attention near the bottom of the staircase, waiting to be decorated. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, Mum, but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
She linked one arm through mine and steered me towards the lounge. “You can talk to me about anything, darling. You know that. It’s not about your business, is it?”
“Oh, nothing like that. Things are going well.”
“That’s great. Then what is it? Oh, I’m thrilled you’re here!”
We approached the panelled door of the lounge.
“I’ve come to talk to you about Marcus.”
Mum’s jewelled right hand flew to the oval pendant around her neck. She proceeded to play with it. “Yes. Awful. That bastard Jacob.” She paused. “I understand Marcus came to stay with you for a few days while I was in New York. Your father told me.”
I levelled my gaze at her. “He did.”
Mum’s dark blue eyes glistened with something. “So, what is it, sweetheart?”
The square heels of my taupe suede boots tapped on the floor, as Mum’s manicured hand reached out for the handle and opened the lounge door.
“Jacob came here for dinner with you, right before he ended it with Marcus.”
Mum stiffened. She opened her glossy mouth to say something, but I cut her off with a raised palm. “And before you go saying anything else, I know Dad wasn’t here at the time. He was away on his annual golf jaunt with the boys.”
Mum squirmed in her high-heeled boots.
“Well, am I right?”
Her complexion tightened under her make-up.
We stepped together into the sunlit lounge. “I think we need to talk, Mum.”
I followed her into what Mum liked to call our “drawing room” but it was more like a second sitting room, decked out with a walnut-coloured sofa, armchairs, and a huge vanilla stone fireplace, which was now festooned with a frothy, festive garland of silver leaves and holly. A smaller Christmas tree was stationed in the far corner, dripping with gold baubles.
She had redecorated since I’d last been here and the walls were now painted pale apricot, instead of toffee.
I also noted Dad had finally got his own way and there was now a fifty-inch plasma TV stationed in the top left corner of the room.
I sank down into one of the armchairs and propped a velvet cushion at my back. Outside the window, the morning sun swept across the manicured lawn and flower beds, which were bearing odd clots of heather and some hardy winter plants of baby pink cyclamen, witch hazel and red-studded viburnum. Frost danced across the lawns. Christmas was flirting with everyone’s senses.
Mum seated herself opposite me. “You have a different air about you.”
“I feel different, Mum. In a good way.” It was strange. I’d expected Declan’s malevolent spirit to jump out at me as soon as I stepped back into Bannock House, but it hadn’t happened. There were no painful memories flooding my brain. Instead, he’d just fizzled into the background, like some fancy firework that had failed to spark. I wouldn’t take responsibility for Declan anymore, or for what he did to me. He was consigned to history, along with my party-girl past.
Shards of optimism glowed in me. I really was moving on with my life at last.
Could Zach be a part of my new life?
I appraised Mum’s long, slender legs angled to one side. I’d always been rather in awe of her. She was always so self-assured; an inherent sense of self-worth beamed out of her like a beacon.
I decided to get straight to the point. “So, why did you invite Jacob over for dinner?”
An odd look flitted across her features. She lifted a slim wrist and brushed a hair away from her face. “He was going to be my son-in-law. What’s so strange about asking him over?”
“What’s so strange is that you didn’t tell Marcus you were inviting his fiancé over for dinner. If it was all so innocent, why not mention it? And why did you want to see Jacob on your own?”
Mum let out an unconvincing laugh. “Darling, what’s this about?”
“I take it you haven’t told Dad about this?”
Mum’s dark blue eyes glittered out of her face. “What is this, Anastasia? I didn’t realise I had to run my social events by the rest of the family.”
There was a prickly silence, except for the steady click of a carriage clock on the writing bureau. “What happened, Mum? What’s been going on?”
Mum pursed her lips. “Honestly, I sometimes wonder where you get your fanciful ideas.”
“They aren’t fanciful. I haven’t forgotten about Finn Coulter, Mum.”
My Mother’s fingers clenched in her lap. “Oh please. Not that again.”
I leant forward in the armchair. “I don’t get any of this. Everyone knows how well-suited Marcus and Jacob are.”
She slid me a look. “Yes, well, that’s what you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mum raised her long neck upwards. “You haven’t been here. You don’t know the full story.”
I angled my head to one side. “Well, I’m here now, so tell me.”
She sighed. “I wish I’d protected you from that money-grabbing bastard Declan. I should’ve stepped in.”
“I wouldn’t have listened, Mum. I loved him. I thought I knew him. Still, at least I found him out in the end. At least I didn’t end up marrying him. He did me a favour, dumping me at the altar.”
“Yes, after fleecing you for money and causing untold embarrassment on the family.”
“It was my embarrassment, Mum.”
“You let your heart rule your head,” murmured my mother. “We’ve all been there.”
I dragged a hand over the top of my ponytail. “Yes. I did. More fool me.”
I focused my attention on the wintry grounds, where the bare trees stood like iced statues. Winter berries popped like red jewels in the hedgerows. “Look, Mum, I want to know what the hell’s been going on here. Marcus is in bits.”
When she didn’t answer, I rose from the sofa.
“Perhaps I should speak to Dad about this. I’m sure he’d be very intrigued to know what you’ve been up to.”
Her red-slicked mouth flatlined. She let out an agonised noise. “Yes. All right. Enough of the amateur dramatics.”
I sank back down again onto the other couch.
My mother wedged her tongue in her cheek for a few seconds. “He’s better off without him. Marcus, I mean.”
“And you hastened his departure?”
She widened her eyes melodramatically. “I don’t know what you mean?”
Good grief. She may be wonderful at fundraising, but her acting skills were appalling. “Oh, just stop, Mum!” I stared her down. “I know you were instrumental in Finn leaving the area. What did you do? Remind him he wasn’t posh or rich enough?”
Mum blustered. “If he’d been keener on you, he would’ve hung around, wouldn’t he?”
I dismissed her protests. “And what about Jacob? Would he have hung around if he was keener on Marcus?” I asked pointedly.
Mum twisted her scalloped dress ring around on her right hand. “I was very fond of Jacob, but you have no idea what’s been going on here. You’re sitting there, making accusations and blaming me when you don’t know the real situation.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, I cannot wait to hear this. What’s the story this time, Mum? Have you discovered Jacob’s grandfather didn’t drive a Daimler? Or perhaps his mother was born on a council estate?”
Mum swallowed.
“Doesn’t it matter to you that he and Marcus love each other? Can’t you see how heartbroken?—”
“Jacob’s been cheating on your brother with Samuel,” she interrupted me, her tone brittle, and I shut my mouth. Her words hung in the air like acrid smoke.
“Samuel Lawson… from Marcus’s work?”
My mother’s gaze bore into me as she nodded. “It’s true. I wish it wasn’t, but it is.”
Samuel and Marcus had worked together for a few years and become friends. I knew that Marcus and Jacob had gone on numerous double dates with Samuel and his partner, Lee.
“N-no,” I stuttered, watching my mother stride backwards and forwards in front of the window in her expensive clothes. “Who told you this?”
Mum’s jewellery rattled. “I didn’t want to be right about this. I really didn’t.”
This couldn’t be true. For the last few months, Marcus had been brimming with excitement and anticipation at spending the rest of his life with Jacob.
Mum laced and unlaced her fingers as she continued to stride backwards and forwards in front of me, like a traumatised zoo animal. “You might not believe me Anastasia, but I didn’t want any of this. I was hoping it was just my imagination. But you must understand that I had to protect your brother.” Her voice cracked. It was as if she were fighting to get the words out. “And my daughter, although I didn’t do a very good job of that.”
I blinked up at her.
She stopped in front of one of the two big windows. The naked trees out in the grounds weaved and swayed like exotic dancers in the wind.
“I’d had my suspicions for a few weeks. Jacob began cancelling when he was supposed to be meeting Marcus to visit wedding venues or go out, citing work pressures, and then when he visited here, I noticed he was distracted by his phone. He always seemed jumpy.” A pleading look stole over her serious features. “You have to believe me. I didn’t want to be right.”
My head was muddled, struggling to accept what my mother was telling me. “I can’t believe he and Samuel would do that to Marcus.”
“Well, they did.”
Poor Marcus. Oh God. To be betrayed by your fiancé, but to also be betrayed by one of your friends. My anger was stoking up. “How did you get him to admit to it? Jacob, I mean?”
Mum flicked me a hot look out of the corner of her eye as she examined the graceful mermaid water feature tinkling outside. “He couldn’t deny it. Not after they were spotted together in public. It was Ruth Keegan from my Women’s Institute days who saw them – holding hands and sharing an intimate dinner in a hotel restaurant in town.”
I felt sick. I could hardly believe it.
Mum turned away from the window. “Ruth asked to meet me for lunch just the other week and she told me what she’d seen,” she said, folding her arms, her bracelets jangling. “That’s when I decided to confront Jacob about it.”
My frustration was all-consuming. “Mum, don’t you think you should’ve spoken to Marcus instead?”
Mum sank down again opposite me in her armchair. The anger in my eyes must have registered with her. “Yes, well, on reflection, I should have. We all make mistakes, believe me.”
“What, even you?” I asked dryly.
She bristled. “All I could see was that Jacob was making a fool of your brother.” She shook her head, as if playing through the events again. “I let Declan do that to you and I wasn’t prepared to let history repeat itself again with Marcus.” Her voice took on a more brittle edge. “I’ve met men like that before.”
An odd, faraway look clouded her eyes, before she composed herself. “Anyway, even before Jacob had the chance to sit down, I told him I knew what had been going on and that he and Samuel had been seen together in some gaudy restaurant.”
“And how did he react to being found out?”
Mum snorted. “Would you believe Jacob denied everything at first? He said he was having regular catch-ups with Samuel because they were discussing the wedding!”
She let out a snort. “He even had the cheek to say that he and Samuel had been meeting in secret because he was planning some major surprise for your brother as part of the wedding ceremony.”
“And then?”
She got up and paced again, her heels placed deliberately one in front of the other. “I wouldn’t let it drop. I said I had been suspicious when he was always glued to his phone while visiting here.” Her pointed chin shot forward. “Finally, he admitted that he and Samuel had been having an affair.” Mum’s lip curled. “He was like a cornered animal in the end,” she sighed. “Despite my suspicions, I couldn’t believe it when Ruth told me.” Her brow furrowed. “He and Marcus made such a wonderful couple – or so I thought – and I always considered Jacob to be a principled young man, especially when you consider his environmental work.” Then she snorted. “If all of us who’d been deceived by someone we trusted were lined up side by side, the bloody queue would stretch to Mars.” Her features twisted into a mask of hurt and she fell quiet.
“Mum? Are you ok?”
She steadied herself. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I’m just being silly.”
I reached up to massage my temple.
Shit. What a mess.
Maybe if I’d been around, I might have noticed something was happening?
“Does Marcus know any of this?”
“He does now.” She fixed me with a look. “Your brother’s been tied up with work and, I think, deliberately throwing himself onto courses and away-days to keep himself occupied since the breakup. One of Samuel’s colleagues texted Marcus yesterday and told him.” She drew in her lips. “Last I heard, Jacob and Samuel were looking at apartments on the south side of Glasgow. They were talking about staying around the Edinburgh area, initially. Even looking at building a new home in Tweed Muir.”
I groaned. “You’re kidding. How insensitive.”
Mum swallowed and set her shoulders as she continued to pace around. “But don’t worry. Everything’s been taken care of.”
An odd feeling took over. “What do you mean by that?”
“Let’s just say I had no option but to appeal to Samuel’s avaricious streak.”
I lurched up from the sofa. “You paid him off? Why?”
Oh, good grief. This situation was just getting better and better.
“I didn’t want to. Please don’t look at me like that, Anastasia, it wasn’t my idea. It was Samuel’s.”
I looked at my mother standing there, with the gilded picture frames and velvet cushions behind her. “What are you saying?”
Mum allowed her manicured hands to rise and fall. “Samuel was shameless about it when I rang him.” She contorted her lips in disgust. “He said Jacob didn’t want to tell your brother about their affair, but he had no such qualms and had tried to push Jacob into confessing everything. I got the impression the vicious little sod was almost relishing it.”
She stared past my shoulder, her mouth set. “Samuel said Marcus had a right to know. He told me Jacob wanted to move away and start over with him, but Samuel said they might stay around Tweed Muir.”
I couldn’t comprehend Samuel’s audacity. It wasn’t enough for him that he’d stolen his friend’s fiancé, he was trying to live locally with him as well! Talk about rubbing my brother’s nose in it!
“I think, underneath, Samuel was always rather resentful of your brother, professionally speaking,” admitted my mother, her gaze wandering over to the fluttering red-studded viburnum outside the window. “He remained friends with Marcus for as long as it suited his own ends and for what he could get from him.”
I sank down again onto the sofa.
Mum’s mouth twisted into a grim line. “I told Samuel that he and Jacob should ensure they put as much space between themselves and your brother as possible. I said it was the least they could do and I thought I was getting through to him at one point, when he admitted they’d already viewed some new-build apartment on the south side of Glasgow.”
“And then?”
“Then Samuel turned round and without a flicker of remorse said that unless I gave him money, he’d go to the press and tell all about his affair with Lord Marcus’s fiancé.” Mum eyed me for my reaction. “That would be the cost of them disappearing out of Marcus’s life. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I was trying to do what was best for your brother.”
Mum crossed and uncrossed her arms as she continued to stride around. “It might not seem like it, but everything I’ve done, and everything I do, is for my children.”
She looked pensive as she studied the wintry garden scene. I was speechless.
“Samuel has resigned. He put out the story that he’d been headhunted by another agency. Your brother was on a residential training course for a few days and when he came back to work Samuel had already gone.”
I looked at Mum. “And does Marcus know about the money you gave Samuel?”
She whipped her head round to me. Her voice was insistent; pleading. “No. And it should stay that way. It’s in your brother’s best interests – you’ll see. I knew how hurt he’d be by all this and I wanted to try and protect him as much as I could.” Her eyes shone. “I still feel like I failed you over Declan. Perhaps I thought I could make amends over you, by at least trying to create some sort of damage limitation for my son.”
* * *
I drove back to Heather Moore, feeling twisted up inside with sadness and anger on behalf of my heartbroken brother, and when I got back to my flat, I tried to call him, but only his voicemail kicked in, so I hung up without leaving a message.
I didn’t sleep well that night, and when I woke up on Monday morning, I felt as though I’d been battered and bruised in a rugby scrum.
I made myself a camomile tea as I prepared to open up Flower Power.
The first part of the morning seemed to crawl past. Amber and Rowan were their same ebullient selves, looking forward to Christmas and both sporting Santa hats, but I felt like I was wading through treacle.
It was only when Zach appeared around lunchtime that I was able to distract myself for a little while.
“You look … tired,” he said with concern.
“Thanks,” I said ruefully. I so wanted to unburden myself to him, but I knew I couldn’t. Too much was at stake. I blinked up at him, touched by his concern. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Zach smiled. “Right. Well, I’m here if there’s anything on your mind you want to offload.” He then let out a frustrated sigh. “I feel terrible but I’m actually here to ask a favour of you.”
I fiddled with some change in the till and shot him a cross look. “Is that why you’re being so nice to me? Because you want a favour?”
“No, it bloody well isn’t! Gee. Great to know you think so much of me.”
I twisted my mouth up at one corner. “Is this you fishing for compliments?”
Zach grinned, exposing his white, even teeth with just a sliver of a sexy gap between the front two. “Is it working?”
I let out a laugh, trying not to register the sudden rippling sensation in my stomach. “No, but God loves a trier.” I stopped what I was doing with the till. “Ok, Zach, out with it. What’s the problem?”
He looked contrite. “It’s not good news on the Ezra King front, I’m afraid. He’s refusing to speak to me. I’ve tried his manager, his publisher, everyone I can think of. It’s the usual excuse: he’s had bad experiences with journalists in the past and now brackets every reporter alongside Satan.”
Zach rubbed his jaw and moved closer to me. I got a delicious waft of his woodsy, English oak cologne.
I narrowed my eyes. “Can you blame him?”
“I suppose not. But what I’m looking into isn’t your run-of-the-mill gossip, Bailey. This rumour that’s circulating…”
“Yes, you keep mentioning that. What rumour exactly?”
Zach frowned. “I can’t say, not yet. Just trust me on this one, ok? I need to speak to him to get his side… It’s very important.”
I studied him. “To get his side on record, you mean?”
“Something like that.” Zach sighed, an adorable air of little-boy helplessness about him.
I fiddled with my necklace. “Ok, I’ll try. But don’t get your hopes up. I’ve already told you I’m not one of his favourite people right now.”