Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
After the delicious chicken-and-beansprout stir-fry Mason made us, we cleared up.
Then I flopped down on his leather sofa, weary but contented after a brisk afternoon of business at the cottages.
Things were looking promising. Might my revamp of the cottages actually be working? It was starting to look that way.
Mum and Dad were delighted when I sent them screenshots of the local paper coverage and told them that we were receiving a slew of reservations.
I let out a satisfied yawn. Mason shot me a cagey look.
‘Let’s leave it for tonight, Poppy. You’re tired.
I can go over my latest findings with you another time. ’
I stifled another yawn. ‘Absolutely not.’
He reached under his glass coffee table for a large white envelope. ‘Stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe you, does it?’
‘You should talk.’
Mason raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, you win. Take a look at these.’
‘What are they?’
‘Just have a read. I wasn’t sure whether you’re aware of this or not.’ He passed me his laptop.
My eyes scanned the headlines from the Port Starr Press. The date of the first article was 30 January 1950.
DISTURBANCE IN LOCAL PUB
Two local men had to be separated after a heated argument in Port Starr’s Seahorse pub.
George Summers (28) and Bernard Lapley (29) were allegedly discussing a joint business venture of an art gallery for the area, when their conversation suddenly became heated and threats were exchanged…
I stared, wide-eyed. ‘George Summers was my grandfather.’
‘I know.’
I shook my head, unable to process what I was reading. ‘I don’t understand this. I’d no idea he was ever involved with the Lapleys, let alone that he wanted to start an art gallery with one of them.’
Mason sank down next to me on the sofa. ‘There’s more. Look.’
I turned to the next article. This heading screamed, PORT STARR WEDDING INTERRUPTED BY LOVE RIVAL.
I peered at the date, which was 13 July 1951, my grandparents’ wedding anniversary.
A Port Starr wedding was the subject of controversy on Saturday, when the romantic proceedings were interrupted by an emotional outburst by the groom’s love rival.
The nuptials of Judith Cooke (25) and George Summers (29) …
‘This is my grandparents’ wedding,’ I gasped at Mason.
Mason inclined his dark head. ‘Keep reading.’
… were interrupted by the arrival of Bernard Lapley (30) who proclaimed his love for Miss Cooke and expressed his objection to the wedding.
Despite repeated requests from the congregation to leave, Mr Lapley refused to do so and was eventually escorted from the church by three of the groom’s male relatives.
I stared down at the words jumping up at me. ‘Bloody hell! I didn’t know about any of this.’
Mason surveyed me for a while from under his thick, dark brows. ‘Do you think your mum and dad knew about all this tension between the two families?’
‘Well, if they did, they’ve certainly never said anything to Caleb or me about it,’ I said, gesturing at the screen to emphasise the point.
Mason pointed. ‘Look at what else is there.’
‘God, as if this isn’t enough to be getting along with.’
With morbid fascination, I read on. Mason’s sitting room swam in front of my eyes. I felt as though I were half asleep, stuck in some weird other dimension.
I took a breath as he clicked on another page from the local newspaper archives. There was a compilation of headlines. They screamed up at me in bold black type.
PORT STARR ART GALLERY A NO GO
LOCAL BANK CLERK ACCUSED OF FINANCIAL IMPROPRIETY
LAPLEY PLANS FOR PORT STARR CASINO A GAMBLE TOO FAR
‘And that was just a selection,’ Mason said. ‘They make the Montagues and Capulets look normal.’
‘So, you’re telling me that there’s been some sort of family feud raging between us and the Lapleys for the past seventy years?’
‘It looks that way.’
I let out a shocked laugh that made Darwin whimper. ‘But why didn’t Dad tell us any of this? I had no idea my grandmother was Port Starr’s answer to Angelina Jolie and that Alex Lapley’s grandfather fancied her, or that they had an art gallery planned that came to nothing.’
Visions of my grandfather trying to establish his own art gallery made my heart jump in my chest. I recalled Dad saying George was keen on sketching (when he wasn’t toiling away as a bank clerk) and that he had a fair amount of talent. So, a love of art ran through the Summers’ genes.
‘And my grandfather was accused of financial misdemeanours when he was a bank clerk?’ I stuttered in disbelief. ‘That’s news to me too. I can’t comprehend it.’
Mason studied me. ‘You’ll have to speak to your dad about all this. I suppose there’s a chance he doesn’t know any of it, either.’
My mouth flatlined. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Well, I just thought you should know.’
Not only was I shocked by the rivalry and intrigue I’d just discovered, but I was also seized by the fact that Mason had invited me over for dinner.
I’d been wondering about that all afternoon, and now I knew it was because he wanted to tell me about the various historical tensions between the two families – not because he liked me.
I refused to acknowledge the disappointment gnawing at me. I was tired, I was emotional and I’d just discovered I didn’t really know my grandparents after all.
‘Thank you for passing this on to me,’ I acknowledged after a considered pause. ‘The next chat I have with my parents should be an interesting one. Would you be able to email me this stuff, please?’
I gave him my email address, and he fired over what I’d just read. ‘Done.’
A seventy-year-old rivalry I knew nothing about and a handsome man only inviting me to his apartment for dinner because he felt sorry for me. I leaned down and rubbed Darwin behind his fluffy ears. This evening was proving memorable for all the wrong reasons.
I didn’t sleep well that night. My mind performed cartwheels, trying to unearth an explanation for everything, but as I showered and washed my hair the next morning, I had to admit to myself that I was struggling.
The evidence was irrefutable and Mason was diligent in his vocation.
While I snatched a bowl of bran flakes and an herbal tea, I sent my dad an email. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin their trip, but I had to find out what was going on. It was as if my family history was clouding over with secrets and I couldn’t see what the truth was.
Hi, Dad. Hope you and Mum are okay and having a wonderful time! I had a quick look at your itinerary, and it looks as though you’re in Sydney. Can you spare ten minutes to dial us up on FaceTime for a quick chat? It won’t take long and I would really appreciate it.
Love, Poppy X
My father was permanently connected to his mobile, and a reply winged its way back to me within a couple of minutes.
Hi, sweetie,
Due to the time difference, we can FaceTime you from our hotel in about half an hour if that suits. Hope all is okay. I knew at some point you would need the benefit of my business acumen! Not having problems already, are you? Sounds like everything has been going great so far.
Lots of love, Mum it was Bernard Lapley’s insane jealousy that triggered all this mess. He was obsessed with your grandma and when she chose George instead of him, he couldn’t take it.’
Dad pushed a hand over the top of his dark-grey hair and nodded. ‘The Lapley family bore a grudge after that and every chance they could, they would try to humiliate my parents and make things difficult.’
‘And so, the Summers fought back,’ explained Mum, ‘and it just became a game of tit for tat that went on for years.’
‘But, Mum, Dad,’ I said, leaning closer to the laptop screen, ‘why didn’t either of you tell us?’
‘I’m sorry,’ sighed my mother, her blonde bob shimmering in the hotel room light, ‘we didn’t want you or your brother caught up in some sort of ridiculous feud that was none of your concern.’
‘And grandpa’s financial impropriety at the bank? What was that about?’
My dad stared down the laptop screen. ‘All a misunderstanding. Well, that’s what the Lapley family claimed. They’d blamed him for stealing from their account, but it wasn’t true.’
So, another way that the Lapley family had tried to discredit mine.
‘And anyway,’ added Dad, ‘it’s all done and dusted now. I know that family are a set of shysters, but there’s an uneasy truce of sorts now; there has been for a number of years, especially when they moved out of the area following financial trouble with Roger.’
I swallowed hard. ‘That’s what you think.’
His hooded hazel eyes blinked. ‘What are you talking about, darling?’
Caleb spoke. ‘Alex Lapley is back in Port Starr, and he’s been trying to throw his weight around.’
My father’s dashing face turned to granite on the other side of the world. ‘What do you mean?’
I studied my parents. ‘He’s been asking lots of questions about the Scarlet Highwayman.’
Mum blinked. ‘Right. But what on earth does that have to do with us?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘You tell me, Mum. You and Dad seem to know far more about our family right now than I do.’
Mum opened her mouth to protest, but I cut across her. ‘And that isn’t all. Alex Lapley has also been making veiled threats against White Willow Cottages.’
Dad was incredulous. ‘He’s been what?’
‘Calm down, Ollie,’ warned Mum, shooting out her hand to catch Dad’s arm beside her.
‘How the hell can I keep calm when that lowlife has been threatening my daughter?’ Dad jumped out of his seat. ‘I thought all this nonsense ended when that lot left Port Starr.’
‘Dad,’ I pleaded, raising my voice. ‘Just listen. He’s a coward. Nothing will come of it.’ Was that true? Now that we were armed with this information, would Alex Lapley back off?
Dad folded his arms and turned to Mum. ‘I’m coming back home. We’ll cut our trip short.’ Dad snatched Mum’s hands in his. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but I wouldn’t trust any of that Lapley lot as far as I could throw them. I think we should catch the first flight back to the UK.’
‘Oh no you won’t!’ I choked. ‘I’m more than capable of handling things here. I’ve got Katie, Caleb … Mason…’ I dispersed an image of him before it lingered too long.
‘But, love,’ said Dad, peering at me through the screen, ‘you might need some backup…’
‘Dad, this isn’t an episode of some reality police show! You agreed to me being in charge of the cottages and that’s what I’m doing. I wanted to tell you both, but I insist you let me handle this and that you don’t ruin your trip.’
Mum gave a brief smile. ‘Poppy seems to be doing a sterling job so far, Oliver. Let her deal with things her way. And if there are any more issues, then we want to know, okay?’
I nodded. ‘I promise, Mum. Now, enjoy your break and I’ll keep you posted.’