Persuade Me (6 page)

Chapter Ten

‘Mona!’

Anna jerked her head up, Rick Wentworth temporarily forgotten. Charles was at the sitting-room door, his face ashen, his breath coming in great gulps.

Mona quickly drained her glass and glared at him. ‘Can’t I have a quiet drink without–’

‘It’s Ollie … he’s had … an accident,’ he said, between gasps.

As Mona burst into noisy sobs, Anna asked, ‘Is it serious?’

At the sound of her voice, his breathing seemed to steady. ‘I don’t think so, but – but I want to take him to hospital, have him checked out.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Do you need to call for an ambulance?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s just his ankle, he twisted it when he fell out of the tree–’

‘
Tree
?’ Mona cut in, angrily. ‘What the hell was he doing up a tree? Weren’t any of you watching him, for God’s sake?’

His thin face flushed. ‘You can’t watch them every single minute.’

‘Evidently not.’ Mona got to her feet, knocking over the empty wine bottle. ‘Shit, who left that there?’

Charles’s lips tightened. ‘Anna, will you walk her home? I’m going there now for my car, but I’m in a hurry, got to bring it up here for Ollie. Shall I call for you on my way to Yeovil? I could do with some moral support, in case–’

‘He’s
my
son, I’ll go to the effing hospital with you!’ Mona kicked the bottle aside and slammed her glass down on a nearby table.

For a minute or so, nobody spoke; yet it seemed to Anna that bitter words hung in the air, too exhausted to find a voice. At last she stood up, collected the two plates – the food barely touched – and gave Charles a reassuring smile.

‘You get the car, I’ll take Mona to see Ollie so she can put her mind at rest. Where is he?’

‘In the garden,’ he said, and went.

They found Ollie lying on a sunlounger, pale and silent, with his left leg raised on a pile of cushions. Barbara was kneeling at his side and holding a bag of frozen peas on his ankle.

She glanced up and said cheerfully, ‘Charles fell from the same tree when he was seven too, or was it eight? Such a fright at the time, but boys will be boys.’

Mona sat gingerly on the edge of the sunlounger. ‘My poor baby, Mummy’s here now.’

Ollie’s hand crept into hers. ‘Hurts.’

‘No wonder.’ She scowled at Barbara. ‘I’ll sit with him until Charles arrives. You’d better phone round and cancel the party.’

Barbara looked puzzled. ‘Not sure I follow you, dear.’

‘You can’t possibly be going ahead after this!’

‘But everything’s arranged and Roger’s so looking forward to it. And you weren’t coming anyway, were you, my pet?’ Barbara patted Ollie’s arm kindly, then smiled at Mona. ‘I’ll give Gemma a ring for you, though, and tell her not to come and babysit. This young man’ll want his mother with him tonight.’

Mona’s scowl deepened. ‘You can cancel the babysitter, but I’ll decide what my own son wants, thank you very much. And it’s Charles who’ll be staying at home with Ollie – it’s all his fault anyway, letting the poor kid fall from a
tree
.’

Anna eyed her sister’s flushed face and quickly intervened. ‘Why don’t you leave me your house key? Then I’ll make sure Harry has his tea and goes to bed at the usual time, if you’re still at the hospital.’

‘Be my guest.’ Mona turned abruptly towards the door out of the garden, which Charles had left ajar. ‘That sounds like our car. Here’s to a fun afternoon in Accident and Emergency.’

Harry was running wildly about with the dogs, Belle and Bracken. Anna let him play; as soon as he started to flag, however, she put him in the stroller and set off for the village shop to get something for Ollie. They dawdled down the lane, stopping every so often to examine butterflies or teasels or whatever else Harry found intriguing. The rain held off, but the air was heavy and still.

The shop was set back a little way from the main road and its owners, Penny and Iain, made full use of the extra pavement space. Trays of winter pansies glowed between bags of freshly dug potatoes and baskets of logs, while wellington boots of all sizes and colours guarded neat stacks of plastic storage boxes. Inside, Anna steered Harry away from the sweets to the small selection of colouring books. As they debated which one Ollie would like, the shop door pinged and a couple came in, chatting amicably.

Anna glanced up. The man was stocky and sandy-haired with a friendly, weather-beaten face; the woman, tall and blonde and athletic-looking. Anna didn’t know either of them and was on the verge of looking away, when something about the woman – her dark, deep-set eyes perhaps – stopped her in her tracks.

‘So he helped you move all those paving slabs?’ The woman sounded surprised.

‘Yes, quite handy having him turn up like that,’ the man said. ‘I showed him round the garden centre, of course, and he seemed very impressed.’

‘But he’d just been on a long run, hadn’t he?’ Her voice was anxious now. ‘I hope he’s not overdoing it, he’s got such an intensive schedule over the next few weeks.’

‘Don’t fuss, Sophie, he’s fighting fit. He’d have run all the way back home if I’d let him. I know you feel protective about your little brother, but I think at thirty-two years old he’s quite capable of looking after himself.’ His bantering tone grew more business-like. ‘Aren’t the cards along here?’

As the couple walked past, Anna turned blindly away. So these were the Crofts; she felt instinctively that she would like them, especially Sophie. In a daze, she let Harry choose something totally unsuitable for Ollie, but didn’t notice her mistake until they were at the counter. By then it was too late. The Crofts were right behind her; she could hear them discussing what time they’d go to Roger’s party. She couldn’t bear to turn round and see the family likeness all over again, so she handed Iain the money and hustled Harry out of the shop.

All the way to the Cottage, she scolded herself. What if Rick had been there? She
must
pull herself together before they met, or else she’d look like a complete fool.

Just as they reached home, the rain started; it seemed somehow to match her mood.

Towards six-thirty, the others returned.

‘Not broken, but a nasty sprain,’ Charles announced as he laid Ollie carefully on the sofa. ‘We’ve got to make him rest for the next few days, that’ll be a trick and a half.’ He gave Anna a weary smile. ‘Thanks for looking after Harry – shall I put him to bed while you get ready for the party?’ A glance across the room, where Harry was playing happily with his Lego. ‘I’ll just have a shower first, won’t take long.’

Mona shot him a look of pure poison. ‘Excuse me? Who’s looking after these two while you’re at the party?’

He frowned. ‘I thought you–’

‘Me?’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘We’ve been through this already, remember? Several times! You expect me to stay and babysit while you and Anna–’

‘For God’s sake,’ he said testily, ‘I didn’t think you were serious about me babysitting. Ollie’s had a hell of a time, he just wants his mother.’

‘While his father goes off enjoying himself–’

‘There’s no point both of us staying at home, is there, you stupid–’ He stopped and glared at Mona. ‘You didn’t really want to go to Dad’s party, so why kick up such a fuss?’

‘That’s hardly the point. Why should you go and not me?’ Her voice rose to a crescendo. ‘It’s always the same, you have all the fun while I’m stuck here–’

‘I’ll babysit,’ Anna put in, sitting down next to Ollie and ruffling his curls.

Mona brightened instantly. ‘Of course, that’s the ideal solution! If I stay, I’ll worry myself sick and have to ring the doctor every five minutes, whereas you don’t understand what a mother goes through, so–’

Charles cut in with an exasperated, ‘Absolutely not, Anna. Let me see if Gemma’s still available.’

‘No, I’ve made up my mind, please explain to everyone how sorry I am,’ Anna said firmly. ‘And, in the circumstances, isn’t it best if the boys are with someone they know well?’

He shook his head. ‘You’re probably right, but it’s still not fair.’

Mona checked her watch. ‘Charles, there’s no time to argue, we must get ready
now
. We’ll have to be up at the Great House in good time so that I can try on Henrietta’s dress, needless to say she couldn’t be bothered to drop it off here. And Anna –’ a dazzling smile – ‘if you want anything, just ring us on the mobile.’

But they all knew she wouldn’t.

Chapter Eleven

The Crofts and their celebrity guest were the last to arrive at the party.

Rick had spent so long in his bedroom that Sophie asked if he’d fallen asleep after all his exertions. He shrugged off her concerns, however, and said that he’d been catching up with emails and missed calls on his BlackBerry. This was not quite true; he’d spent most of the time rehearsing a range of facial expressions – from bland indifference to studied surprise – in anticipation of meeting Anna Musgrove. When he did get round to checking his missed calls, he discovered that Shelley had rung at last. She hadn’t left a message and it was now the middle of the night in Australia, so he made a mental note to try her in the morning.

As a courtesy, they rang the doorbell; when no one answered, however, they tracked everyone down in the walled garden round the side of the house. There were probably only about twenty people on the well-lit terrace, but it sounded like a lot more. Rick’s arrival didn’t cause a noticeable stir, thank God, although a couple of girls squealed when they saw him. Roger Musgrove, a jovial, loudly dressed man, introduced them as his daughters, Lou and Henrietta.

Next came his wife, Barbara. ‘Now Rick, don’t hold back on the food front, we’ve got enough to feed an army. Village caterers, all local produce, trout from our very own lake. Which reminds me, I need your opinion on our koi carp. Too dark to see them now, maybe you’ll come over in the morning?’

It was something he encountered time and again – the idiotic assumption that he was an authority on anything that lived in water. But somehow he warmed to this woman; so he smiled and said he’d be delighted and left it at that.

He handed Roger his gift, a signed copy of
Sex in the Sea
with a personal birthday message. Roger went into such raptures that Rick winced with embarrassment, especially when Lou let slip that this was the fourth copy in the family. She’d apparently bought books for herself, Henrietta and Barbara at one of his signings. He did the decent thing and pretended he remembered which seemed to make her ludicrously happy.

Infected with the others’ enthusiasm, he almost relaxed, almost let down his guard. But all the time his eyes searched for
her
face …

As it turned out, he met the husband first; dark-haired and weedy-looking, with watchful eyes.

‘Let me introduce my son, Charles,’ Roger said heartily. ‘We run the estate together – would you believe he actually
likes
dealing with all that EU Single Payment Scheme paperwork?’

The two younger men shook hands and, feeling a sudden need to test the other man’s strength, Rick made it one of his bone-crunching specials. No contest; now it was just a matter of establishing that he was superior in mind as well as body.

Charles’s mouth tightened in what may have been a smile or, more likely, a grimace of pain. ‘Ah, the shark wrestler. We’re all itching to hear about your incredible exploits.’

This sort of remark irritated Rick. It always came from men and was usually accompanied by some limp-wristed posturing, as if he’d challenged their manhood.

And so, when Roger went off to refill their glasses, he heard himself say, ‘I knew your wife, a long time ago. Rather well.’ He cursed himself under his breath. Why tell this man anything?

Charles gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Lucky you. Maybe you’d like to get reacquainted?’ He glanced round. ‘Ah, there she is, I’ll just bring her over.’

A sudden pounding in his ears, blotting everything else out. Rick closed his eyes and let his lungs fill with air. Hold – two, three, four, five. And out again, slowly, slowly.

Charles’s voice, quite sharp. ‘Darling, you didn’t tell me you’d met Rick Wentworth. Says he knew you rather well, once upon a time.’

Rick forced his eyes open and stared down at a face he’d never seen before. Broad, heavily made-up, pretty enough but with none of
her
delicate features, and framed by long, wavy, dark red – almost maroon – hair.

‘
Have
we met?’ The woman hiccupped and tried to cover it up with a suggestive giggle. ‘I’m sure I’d have remembered.’

He pulled himself together, switched on the charm. ‘I’m sure I would too, obviously got you mixed up with someone else.’ He turned to Charles and attempted a smile. ‘Sorry, my mistake, wrong Musgrove. Unless you’ve got another wife tucked away somewhere?’

‘I wish. Anyway, why don’t I leave you two to get acquainted, as opposed to reacquainted. I’m just popping home to check on Ollie – or have you been already, Mona?’

She didn’t answer; so, after a moment, Charles shrugged and sloped off.

As soon as he’d gone, she put her hand on Rick’s arm and simpered, ‘Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Mona Musgrove, formerly an Elliot of Kellynch, my father’s the 8th Baronet. And where do you think we’ve met?’

Was she thick, deaf or merely drunk? ‘I’ve just said we haven’t. But I have met an Elliot of Kellynch before, Annette or something. Perhaps your younger sister?’ He couldn’t resist that last little jibe.

‘You must mean Anna.’ Her tone was distinctly cooler. ‘She’s my older sister, actually. And it’s funny that she’s never mentioned you.’

He felt the blood rush to his face; had he been that insignificant in her life? ‘It was in France, years ago, and we only saw each other a few times,’ he said stiffly. ‘She was an au pair and I was teaching kids how to sail, a bit of responsibility after four years at university.’ It sounded more like an entry on his bloody CV, but that way there was no chance of anyone guessing the truth.

And Mona seemed less curious than most. ‘Oh, that explains it,’ she said airily. ‘She was miserable in France, I remember my father having to fetch her home. I wasn’t around that summer – Lady Helen Carnegie, a good friend from boarding school, invited me up to Scotland. Her family seat is Sanders Castle, you must have heard of it, in the–’

He was barely listening. ‘Is she married now?’

‘Lady Helen? Not yet, but she’s engaged to–’

‘I meant your sister.’

‘Anna? God, no.’ He waited for her to elaborate, but instead she went on, ‘She’s just next door actually, babysitting for us. At Uppercross Manor – that’s our house, rather small, we’re looking for something much bigger. I don’t know how she and Charles persuaded me to come out this evening, I can’t bear to be away from my boys for long. In fact, why don’t we take a little walk over there? Best to go now, before Barbara gets her oranges out, so degrading.’

Rick declined as politely as he could. Why on earth would he find Barbara and her oranges degrading? If it was a quaint euphemism for Barbara going topless – well, he lived in Australia, for God’s sake; bare breasts were part of the bloody landscape.

And he was in no hurry to meet Anna Elliot again, married or not.

By the time Charles arrived at the Cottage, Anna had put both children to bed; Harry was asleep and she was in Ollie’s room, reading him his favourite Roald Dahl story.

He greeted his father with an enormous yawn and said, ‘Where’s Mummy?’

‘Talking to a shark wrestler,’ Charles replied.

‘
Really
?’ Ollie’s eyes were wide with wonder.

‘Well, so everyone says. Anyway, how are you feeling?’

‘Good. Except Harry gave me the silliest colouring book, all fairies and stuff. Aunty Anna says they’re special fairies and they’re going to make my ankle as good as new.’ He pulled the duvet over his head in disgust.

Charles looked across at Anna and smiled. ‘If Aunty Anna says so, it must be true.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better be going back, Mum wants me to help with the party games. Rick Wentworth doesn’t know what he’s letting himself in for. Do you know, I think the man’s unhinged? Tried to tell me he’d – slept with Mona!’ He mouthed the last three words so that Ollie didn’t hear, then went on, ‘Of course he didn’t put it quite like that, just said he knew my wife a long time ago “rather well”, but I could read between the lines. Then, when they met, it was obvious he’d never seen her before in his life, and he actually admitted he’d made a mistake. Weird.’

Anna stared down at the jumble of words on the page in front of her. ‘Maybe he was confusing her with someone else.’

‘God knows who, there’s only one Mona.’ A short laugh. ‘Well, goodnight, Ollie boy. And you, Anna.’

She was dimly aware of Charles leaving the room … of reading to the end of the chapter as if on autopilot … of Ollie demanding that she read it all over again, but this time with her usual funny voices. Somehow she remembered to reassure him that, if he woke up and needed anything, he only had to shout and she’d come. Then she sat and listened to the tick of the clock, until his breathing settled into the gentle rhythm of sleep.

And still she sat, turning Charles’s words over and over in her mind. It sounded as if Rick had expected her to be at the party – as Charles’s wife! She wondered how he’d react when they did meet, and he found out that she was no one’s wife … But he had a girlfriend, so what was the point of wondering anything at all?

Anyway, although she’d avoided a meeting tonight, one thing was certain: she wouldn’t have to wait until his book signing in Bath to see him. Now that he’d met the Musgroves, he could walk back into her life at any moment.

Waiting in line while an orange was passed from one person to the next – an excuse for much giggling, bawdy remarks and occasional shrieks of ‘No hands allowed!’ from Barbara – Rick almost regretted turning down Mona Musgrove’s suggestion. A stroll to call on Anna Elliot, with Mona name-dropping every few seconds, would definitely have been the lesser of two evils.

He wondered when he could escape back to Sophie and Ed’s. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves; he watched them pass the orange rather deftly from one to the other, using the chest technique. He decided that this was a game best played by married couples, or people trying to get each other into bed; anything else was downright embarrassing.

But, before he could slip away, the girl in front – Lou? – turned to him with the orange wedged under her chin. Knees slightly bent, head at an awkward angle, hands clenched behind his back, he attempted to take it from her using only his neck muscles.

Shit! Out of the corner of his eye, he watched it roll down inside her shirt and nestle in her not inconsiderable cleavage. She burst out laughing, making the fruit wobble rather endearingly.

And he recalled other fruit, spilling out of a dragon box; and a little boy in distress; and a pale, haunting face …

He stared at the face next to him, bright with amusement and admiration. Yes, admiration. This girl fancied the pants off him and all he had to do was give her a word of encouragement. Oh, he was tempted; he could do with someone warm and willing in his bed tonight. But he’d never cheat on Shelley.

So he calmly put out one hand and retrieved the orange as quickly as possible, much to the girl’s disappointment. In an effort to console her, he tucked it back under her chin, grabbed her by the shoulders and expertly transferred it – without using his hands – to her sister, who was waiting on his other side.

Later, after he’d left the party, he stood at the back door of Sophie’s cottage, staring into the whispering darkness of the garden. For the first time since he’d arrived in England, he allowed himself to think long and hard about Shelley. On his part, the relationship was pretty sterile: hardly a word of affection, let alone commitment. He knew she wanted – and deserved – more.

When he returned to Australia, it would be different. He’d open up, tell her about the past, make plans for a long, leisurely holiday together. It would make her happy. As for himself …

But why wait another few weeks? He’d start tomorrow, with the phone call.