Chapter Eleven
Watching Luke across the table as he chatted to Ruan, Jordan tried to pinpoint when his hatred for his cousin had begun.
It always seemed to have been there, hovering in the background like a painful open cut that never quite managed to heal.
He begrudged the money his father paid out on Luke’s education, something that sent his mother into a frenzy every time it was mentioned.
Then there was the way he had been humiliated, having to confirm to a school friend who was staying for the weekend that the scruffy gypsy in front of them was indeed his cousin.
Of course it wouldn’t have happened if his friend hadn’t insisted on visiting Carrenporth’s small port to see the fishing boats.
Living in the town, an opportunity to see real trawlers and the fishermen unloading their catch was something he didn’t want to miss.
Coming across Luke shabbily dressed in an oil-spattered jumper and worn jeans he decided to avoid him.
Even though he called out to him, Jordan hurried past, leaving his cousin frowning at the pair of them as they made off.
And then like some great fierce giant with his huge beard and bright ginger hair, Ross Carrack appeared out of the depths of the trawler ahead of them.
He’d clambered onto the quayside and blocked their path.
In a booming voice he reminded Jordan of who he was and the connection to the scruffy urchin he had been so desperate to avoid.
His sermon over, he hauled himself back onto the trawler, calling for Luke to join him.
After that demeaning experience which cost him a friendship and made him a laughing stock at school, all he could think about was revenge.
He didn’t have to wait long. A vicious summer storm took Ross and his trawler to the bottom of the sea.
But annoyingly Luke prospered. His mother’s suicide almost a year later hadn’t seen him being shipped off by social services into foster care as his mother had predicted.
Instead, he moved in with them, and his father had paid for everything: clothes, education, and even his two years’ travelling.
Nothing, it appeared, was too good for Selina’s son.
Jordan remembered the feeling of being cast aside; as if he no longer mattered.
And now here Luke was, being offered a director’s job.
Jordan’s gloom deepened, as did his need for payback.
He didn’t know how it would happen, only that it would.
And when it did maybe his father would open his eyes and see what a complete fool he’d been putting his trust in someone as undeserving as Luke Carrack.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’
Gareth Hunter loosened his tie and turned to face his wife. This had been brewing all the way home. In fact, he sensed his wife’s hostility long before that in her hate-filled stare the moment he’d made his announcement.
‘I’m sorry, Evie,’ he said as he helped himself to a whisky and turned back to face her. ‘I guess I got carried away. Convivial atmosphere and all that.’ He raised his glass cheerfully.
‘Carried away? Carried away?’ Her voice was shrill. ‘You made a complete arse of yourself and did a great job of humiliating our son.’
‘Ah,’ he took a slug of his whisky, ‘now we’re getting to the heart of the matter. Our son.’
‘Yes, our son. The one who had to sit there listening while you handed a plum job to your sister’s bastard.’
Gareth took another mouthful and set the glass down on the coffee table. ‘I wish you wouldn’t refer to Luke in those terms.’ He glared at her, hating the offensive manner she always adopted when talking about Luke.
‘Well, he is a bastard, isn’t he?’ Evie taunted.
‘Scott Stevens’s bastard.’ She gave a malicious laugh.
‘You know, I can still see your mother’s horrified expression the day she discovered who had actually got her daughter knocked up.
One of her husband’s employees …’ She shook her head. ‘Absolutely priceless.’
‘You can be such a bitch at times,’ Gareth replied, holding back on the urge to catch hold of his wife and shake her.
Evie had been one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Funny, how sometimes the things you wanted most of all didn’t make you happy.
She was a social climbing witch, far worse than his mother had ever been.
To her Selina was an embarrassment; someone to be passed on the street and ignored.
Evie had always hated Luke and when Selina died and he informed her he was bringing the lad to live with them she’d almost trashed the kitchen, so great was her rage.
‘He’s a grafter and a good man manager,’ he said. ‘Gets on well with everyone. That’s why—’
‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Evie interrupted. ‘You’ve never allowed Jordan the opportunity to show what he can do. He’s bored in that pathetic little sales job you’ve given him. He deserves better.’
‘Better?’ Gareth scoffed. ‘Like a manager’s job, you mean?’
‘Yes. He should be allowed to show what he can do.’
‘Despite the expensive education he’s been treated to, he’s not qualified to do anything, Evie. He dropped out of school at sixteen, remember? Not one GCSE to his name. And since then, hey!’ He raised his hands. ‘Life’s been one big party.’
‘You are cruel and unfair,’ she rounded on him.
‘Ever since he was eight Jordan has had to live in the shadow of Luke Carrack. You treat him more like a son than your own flesh and blood.’ Gareth heard the resentment in her tone as she paced back and forth.
‘Well I’m sick of it all, I can tell you.
Absolutely bloody sick. And now,’ she waved a hand at him, ‘I’m off to bed.
What’s the point in trying to talk to you?
You don’t listen. I doubt you even care.
I’ve had it with you. Oh, and you can find somewhere else to sleep tonight.
’ She fired her final barb before leaving. ‘I don’t want you anywhere near me.’
As Evie disappeared, closing the door behind her, Gareth retrieved his glass and poured himself another large shot of whisky.
Sliding back the bi-fold doors to the terrace, he stepped out, feeling the warm evening air on his face.
He reached the edge of the balcony and stood for a moment, savouring a mouthful of the ten-year-old malt as he stared out into the darkness at the lights of Newquay shimmering on the horizon.
He had to admit there were times when he’d have given anything to have Luke as his son.
Unlike Jordan, the boy worked hard and made a success of everything he did.
Gareth was proud of his sister’s son, someone who went on to get a first class honours degree in Business Management at Exeter.
After this success Gareth had no problem with him taking time off to travel before returning to work permanently for him.
Evie, of course, accused him of exploiting the family’s generosity, educating himself at their expense and then disappearing.
She predicted he wouldn’t return, saying they would hear from him when he wrote advising them he’d got a job abroad.
‘He probably won’t even use that fancy education of his,’ she’d told him scornfully.
‘He’ll end up as a barman or a barista in some godforsaken South East Asian tourist bolthole. ’
Gareth was tempted to tell her that Luke wasn’t like their son but he knew it would only generate a tirade of abuse.
Jordan was her precious child: her only child.
Problems during his birth had meant no more babies in the Hunter household.
Evie had dedicated her life to Jordan, making sure he was given everything and denied nothing.
It would be pointless telling her he had no work ethic; that the sales department carried him.
His attendance record was abysmal. And when he did bother to turn up he was pretty useless.
He knew the team preferred him not to be there at all, but kicking him out of the job would play right into Jordan’s hands, giving him the opportunity to become a full time layabout, and that was the last thing he was prepared to do.
Gareth felt angry and frustrated. His son could be charm itself.
If he’d applied himself properly he would have been a first class salesman, moving on quickly to promotion and greater things.
But for Jordan, life was about good times; chasing girls and getting wasted.
He felt powerless to address the problem, given the fact his son had three other equally well-heeled partners in crime, all with the same overblown sense of entitlement and non-existent work ethic.
Any thoughts of withdrawing Jordan’s allowance or trying to pull him into line would, he knew, bring Evie down on his head.
Between a rock and a hard place there was nothing he could do.
Of course, he should have set ground rules years ago when Jordan was a small boy, but by that time it was too late, Evie had complete control.
Jordan grew up blond and handsome but the years he’d been cossetted by his mother left their mark.
He was arrogant, lazy and totally self-absorbed.
Gareth knew it was too late to change him.
He was a lost cause because Evie was still there, hovering in the background, continually bringing her influence to bear on everything affecting Jordan’s life.
Little wonder it triggered arguments, which eventually led to huge irreparable cracks developing in their already delicate relationship.
Tonight was yet another example. Now, to the outside world, they still appeared the happily married couple who had it all.
But behind closed doors theirs was a sad world; when things got bad Evie sought refuge from her demons in the bottle, and as for him?
Well, his way of coping was spending evenings in the arms of another woman five miles up the coast.
Gareth threw back the last of his whisky, stepped back into the lounge and closed the doors.
He’d made a big mistake this evening announcing Luke’s new job in front of everyone.
What the hell made him do such a stupid thing?
Alcohol mostly, he acknowledged, and being on a high after étienne’s arrival.
Reunited with his two old friends he had automatically been drawn back to happier days.
Days when they were young and all of life was still ahead of them.
There were so many choices to be made then and they’d embraced them with vigour.
Ruan eventually married black-haired interior designer, Cassie Blakely – his ‘older’ woman.
étienne’s future was already mapped out for him in the shape of hotel heiress Isabella Baccari.
And he had bagged Evie Morgan the most beautiful girl in Cornwall.
Such bright futures. So many hopes and dreams. Where had it all gone wrong?
With a tired sigh he turned off the lights and headed for bed.