Chapter Thirteen
‘Are you going to tell me what’s eating at you or do we keep pretending nothing’s wrong? According to you things went well at Becky’s on Sunday, but you’ve been like a bear with a sore head ever since.’
Gage squirmed under the force of Tamara’s fierce glare. ‘You might want to slow down. The sign says sharp bends for the next half mile.’
‘Really? And there was me thinking the zig-zaggy symbol on that pretty red sign is warning me to beware of drunk pedestrians wandering in the road.’
He couldn’t blame her for the heavy dose of sarcasm.
After all, she’d opened her home to him and slaved away beside him in the shop until she was dropping with tiredness.
Now she was forced to cope with the large, unwieldy van he’d hired for the day because he was out of commission where driving was concerned.
And in the pouring rain, no less. And how did he repay her? By shutting her out.
‘So?’
‘Lunch was great. The kids are awesome and I can’t wait to get to know them better. Paul’s a friendly, easy-going chap and not thrown by any of this.’
‘I knew he wouldn’t be. We’ll be there in five minutes, so you’re running out of time to confess all to Aunty Tamara.’
He was aware the driver’s door controlled the power locks and didn’t doubt she would hold him hostage if necessary.
‘As I was leaving, Becky asked something that threw me.’ He cleared his throat, but that didn’t help. The words remained stuck there.
‘Do I get three guesses?’
‘She asked if I’m still in touch with our father.’
‘Are you?’
‘I thought he was dead, didn’t I? He and my mum split up when I was about eleven and we never saw him again.
That’s when I started going off the rails.
When Mum threatened to hand me over to social services and I said I’d go live with my dad if she didn’t want me, she laughed and wished me good luck with that because he was six feet under. Killed in a car crash.’
‘Oh, Gage. How could she lie to you?’
How wrong he’d been to assume that he’d come to terms with his fractured relationship with his mother because now, thanks to Tamara’s unstinting sympathy, tears filled his eyes. No matter how hard he blinked, they continued taunting him.
‘We’re stopping,’ Tamara said and pulled off the road into a farm gateway. ‘The chairs can wait.’
‘I was a handful. She couldn’t cope.’
‘That’s no excuse. Don’t you dare blame yourself.’ Her face flamed. ‘I’ve not been a perfect mum, but I’ve never trashed Fred to Toby.’
‘Even though many people would say you had every right to?’
‘They’d be wrong,’ she said softly. ‘My son doesn’t need that burden.’ Tamara straightened her shoulders. ‘These are broad. They can take it. Toby’s better off hearing Fred was a good man who wasn’t ready to be a father.’ A faraway look appeared in her eyes. ‘Maybe that’s the truth.’
‘But you stepped up. What does that say about your character compared to Fred’s?’
She shrugged off the question.
‘Does Toby have any contact with his dad these days?’
‘No.’ Tamara said firmly. ‘Apart from paying child support, Fred’s had nothing to do with us since he left.
When Toby was little, he used to ask about his dad all the time but then he stopped.
’ A sigh slipped out. ‘A few years ago, I asked him if he wanted to track Fred down because I would’ve helped if he did.
Toby didn’t want to know, so I’ve never mentioned it again.
’ She shook her head. ‘We’re getting off track here.
’ The undercurrent of strength and steel he’d spotted in Tamara the first day they’d met returned. ‘So where is your dad?’
‘Living in Edinburgh, with yet another family on the go.’ He managed a faint smile.
‘Becky hasn’t had a lot of contact with him over the years, mainly Christmas and birthday cards and the occasional phone call.
He had another couple of kids with a different woman after my mum, and now he’s on his fourth lot, so we’ve more half-brothers and half-sisters scattered about the country.
It might explain why I’ve never settled down. Must be the genes.’
‘That’s rubbish. Look at Becky. You couldn’t find a more down-to-earth, grounded person.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps the upset of her dad and everything pushed her the other way. Becky married straight out of school and the kids came one after the other, all before she was twenty-one.’
‘Whereas I’m the original rolling stone.’
‘Until you came to Penworthal.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘At least, I hope you’re not going to throw it all in now you’ve got what you came for.’
‘Reconnecting with Becky isn’t the only reason I’m here and you know that.’ Gage could hardly bear to look at Tamara, but couldn’t look away either, so he briefly closed his eyes. ‘At least, I hope you do?’ He held his breath.
‘I do.’
* * *
Tamara relaxed as relief inched over Gage’s conflicted expression.
Pushing too hard and too fast wouldn’t help either of them.
Determined to change the subject and get back on schedule she said, ‘If we don’t hurry up, we’ll run out of time to check out the different lots first to decide which to bid for. ’
‘I’ve never been to an auction before. Probably best I superglue my hands to my body and let you take charge. I’m afraid I’ll end up spending thousands on an antique Chinese pot.’
‘Don’t worry. If the auctioneer is on the ball, they’re expert at telling the difference between a genuine bid and someone scratching their nose.’
She started the engine, put the van in gear and checked to make sure no one was coming before pulling back out. This was her first time driving a vehicle this cumbersome, although she’d kept that nugget of information to herself because Gage was edgy enough today.
‘There’s the sign. Boscarrek Manor.’ Gage frowned. ‘Looks posh. Are you sure we’ll—’
‘It’s fine. Trust me.’
Tamara turned the van and drove through the intricate wrought-iron gates.
Although impressive at first sight, the metal was badly rusted and the gilding on the ancestral crests had long since disappeared.
From her research she’d discovered the family behind today’s auction had owned the estate for almost four hundred years, but the new heir had sold it to a developer who planned to turn it into ‘executive apartments’.
In other words, fancy places for people attracted to living a simpler life in the country, in theory, but with none of the drawbacks.
‘I scoured the online catalogue and we’ll be good. This sort of thing is my happy place.’ She giggled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t go over the allotted budget.’
‘Unless you see a pig you can’t resist.’
She smacked his arm. ‘I should never have told you that.’
One of their many conversations had drifted to hobbies and he’d been stunned to hear about her porcelain pigs.
The only comparable thing he could come up with was hardly a secret — it was his inability to walk past a bookshop without buying something.
Gage had blushed like mad when she’d asked how much he’d spent over the years on a storage locker to house his growing collection of books while he’d travelled around the globe.
One reason for the bookshop was his realisation that he wouldn’t live long enough to read them all, so sharing the pleasure with other booklovers made sense.
‘I don’t mind admitting I’ll have to do the sitting-on-my-hands thing when a certain Wemyss pig comes up. It’s very rare, from the 1930s. There are very few of the Irish-shamrock designs around. It’ll cost an absolute fortune.’
After navigating around a ridiculous number of potholes, she was relieved that all the tyres had survived and the windscreen had no noticeable scratches from the onslaught of drooping branches and overgrown bushes.
The glossy online pictures of the Elizabethan house must’ve been Photoshopped because the grimy building in front of them was covered in scaffolding, a good number of the leaded windows were shattered and weeds sprouted up around the house’s foundations.
‘Not quite what I expected.’ Gage commented with raised eyebrows.
Tamara followed the car in front to the temporary parking area in a field and pulled into a spot at the end of a row. ‘I should’ve dropped you off so you don’t have the uneven ground to deal with.’ At least the rain had finally stopped.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Gage grimaced as he eased out of the van, but she held her tongue. The stubborn man insisted he didn’t need crutches today because Evelyn had lent him a stout walking stick. He didn’t protest, though, when she linked her arm through his and matched his slower pace.
The spacious marble hall was full of people milling around, but she steered in the direction of the viewing room and picked up a catalogue on the way.
The furniture was towards the back, so they headed there first to examine the chairs they’d marked out as possible purchases.
Some she marked with a tick in her catalogue, and others were crossed through because they wouldn’t suit for a variety of reasons.
‘Right, let’s get a good seat before the rush starts.’
‘At the front?’
She laughed. ‘Absolutely not. You want a clear view to scan the room and size up the competition — especially when we start bidding.’
Gage’s cockeyed smile made her tingle all over.
They headed for the far side of what must have been a spectacular ballroom in its day, its ornately panelled ceiling adorned with fading but beautifully painted scenes from Greek mythology. Its inlaid wood floor only needed sanding and polishing to restore its glory.
Tamara plonked down at one end of the back row. This was when her height was a plus because it was easy to look over the heads of the people in front of them. An hour later she was beaming with satisfaction after securing the chairs they wanted.
An adorable Victorian wingback upholstered in faded dark-green velvet.
A matching pair of tan leather 1930s club chairs, whose every scratch and worn spot showed how well loved they’d been.
The prize for the best deal went to the two-seater Edwardian love seat she’d picked up for a song — no one else had wanted it because it’d been tastelessly re-covered in bright pink brocade.
In the short term, they’d use it with enough scatter cushions to dim its garish colour and later she could reupholster it.
They also bought half a dozen mahogany dining chairs that weren’t wonderfully exciting, but serviceable for extra seating, and several small tables.
Gage had done as promised — sat on his hands and not uttered a word.
‘Right, that’s us done. Are you ready to pick up our winnings?’
‘Where do we go for the stuff?
‘There’s a door around the back for loading.’
‘Fine. I’ll go pay if you bring the van around. I’m sure I can find someone to help us load since I’m useless.’
‘Nothing’s overly heavy. I can manage.’
‘Of course you can. Superwoman.’ There was no hint of sarcasm, only good-humoured admiration. Very different from when they’d first met. ‘I’ll see you outside. I’ll return that if you like.’ He snatched the bidding card away from her.
‘Cheers.’ Tamara’s spirits soared. They were good.
* * *
Gage swiftly paid for their purchases then sneaked back into the auction, just as the auctioneer announced they were moving on to the decorative pieces and gestured to his assistant, a thin young woman in black, who held up a large porcelain pig.
He waved the card in the air as the auctioneer started the bidding at a hundred pounds.
If he was successful, he could claim it’d been bought as a lucky mascot for the shop.
In truth, this had nothing to do with the shop, but everything to do with them.
Gage wasn’t a man for grand romantic gestures and she’d already told him flowers and the like weren’t her thing.
This would hopefully be a different story.
An older woman with a hooked nose, fierce eyes and a tightly pursed mouth stared fiercely at Gage and raised her own card as the auctioneer called for another fifty pounds.
‘One thousand pounds,’ Gage shouted, wanting to cut to the chase.
A gasp ran around the room.
With an angry headshake at the auctioneer, and a vicious glare at Gage, the woman conceded defeat. She rose from her seat and swanned out of the room, followed by a small ferret-faced man who scuttled behind her like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.
Gage made his way as fast as he could to collect his prize pig. By the time he reached Tamara, she was closing the van doors.
‘Typical man, turning up when all the work is done.’ She glanced back over her shoulder and all the colour drained from her face. ‘Tell me you didn’t buy that?’
‘Nah, they let me bring it out for a minute so you could stroke it.’
‘Very funny.’
‘I thought the shop needed a lucky mascot.’
‘A bloody expensive one. How much did you pay for it? Or don’t I even want to know?’
He blurted out the truth before he could think better of it.
‘You have lost your mind.’
Gage shrugged. ‘I’d say it’s the opposite.’
‘But that’s money you could really use for other things. Like paying the sky-high electric bill in a few months?’ Her ribbing didn’t dent his wicked grin.
‘Don’t you love it, though? What’re we going to call her?’
‘Why’re you so sure it’s a her?’
‘Look at that face. It’s obvious.’
‘If you say so.’
‘It needs to be something literary.’ Gage frowned, deep in thought.
‘I don’t always choose one straightaway.
Sometimes, I wait and get to know them first. It’s a bit like having a baby, or at least it was in my case.
Fred had zero interest, so I picked the name George.
But when they placed Toby in my arms, I knew he wasn’t a George.
After about ten days, it fell into place and he was Toby from then on. Does that sound mad?’
Gage shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘I’ve never thought to ask if you’re married or whatever?’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘I suppose I should’ve done before we kissed.’
‘I was married once, but it didn’t last long. I don’t mention it because it’s not important to me any longer. Before now it’s not really mattered.’ His heart thudded, waiting for her response.
‘Did you have any kids with your ex-wife? I assume that would’ve mattered enough for you to tell me.’
Gage didn’t blame her for either the pointedness or the questions, but he couldn’t help being pissed off. It was a touchy subject for him, but she couldn’t know that. ‘Time we got going, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t get an answer?’
‘I don’t have kids, okay?’ Gage swung away from her, almost losing his balance in the process. If he dropped the pig, that really would be the end.