Persuade Me (8 page)

‘Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God, you’ll never guess what’s happened!’ they said, clutching at each other and giggling hysterically.

The children stared at them open-mouthed, while Mona said, ‘It must be very important if you’ve bothered to come all the way to our humble little abode.’

Henrietta simply stood there, speechless with excitement, but Lou gabbled, ‘It’s Rick, he’s split with Shelley. We googled him this morning, just for the hell of it, and found it all on
The Sunday Reporter
’s website. She’s dumped him for this other bloke, nothing much to look at – she must be mental, mustn’t she?’

Anna’s cotton-wool brain could hardly take it in. Rick’s girlfriend, with someone else?

As Lou paused for breath, Henrietta managed to gasp, ‘So now we’re off to the lake.’

‘The lake?’ Mona made it sound like the ends of the earth. ‘Whatever for?’

‘
He’s
there.’ Lou flapped her hand in front of her face to calm herself. ‘You know. Rick.’

Mona rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a drama queen, he’s hardly the type to throw himself in the lake just because some bimbo’s dumped him.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, he’s there to fish, with Charles,’ Lou said. ‘We saw them from my bedroom window.’

Mona whirled round and gave Anna an accusing look. ‘You never told me – I
thought
I heard Charles come back and clatter about. Was Rick with him?’

‘Yes, Charles wanted him to have his spare rod,’ Anna said quietly.

‘Right, I’m going to the lake, just need my boots.’ And Mona rushed out into the hall.

Lou frowned. ‘Why don’t you come too, Anna? We don’t mind waiting while you go and get ready, and I’m sure between us we could carry Ollie. That reminds me, Master Musgrove, how are you feeling this morning?’

While Lou and Henrietta inspected Ollie’s ankle, Mona came back into the kitchen. As she bent down to adjust one of her boots, Anna saw that they were last year’s and remembered that the path round the lake was notoriously muddy, even after the driest summer. That showed Rick’s true place in Mona’s affections – he wasn’t worth sacrificing her new ones for … Oh God, it was only two hours since he’d come back into her life and here she was, seeing everything in terms of him all over again …

And now when they met he’d be unattached – like her. Stupid to think that would make any difference …
stupid
.

Mona straightened up. ‘We’d better be quick, Rick must be desperate for someone to talk to, I had
such
a nice chat with him last night.’ She marched to the back door and turned to Lou and Henrietta. ‘Come on.’

Harry clung to her legs. ‘Me go too.’

‘No, no, darling. Stay here with Aunty Anna.’ She picked him up and sat him firmly in Anna’s lap.

‘Anna?’ Lou gave her an enquiring look.

She hugged Harry’s sturdy little body and shook her head. ‘I’ll stay here with the children, but we’ll see you at the Great House for lunch. We might go there early and play with Belle and Bracken. You’d like that, Harry, wouldn’t you?’

When they’d gone, she sat the boys in front of a DVD and dashed upstairs for a quick shower. The hot water soothed her enough to allow a mental replay of that awful silent scene in the kitchen. The look on Rick’s face – blank, and at the same time tortured, as if grieving for someone. At the time, the thought had flashed through her mind that maybe …

But now she knew the reason for it, and it was nothing to do with her.

Chapter Fourteen

Up at the lake, Rick found himself relaxing more than he’d anticipated. He went through the motions of fly-tying and casting, but for once he couldn’t be bothered to compete. It was the peace, the closeness to nature and the undemanding companionship that he needed most. He stretched out his legs, leaned back and rested his head on the bag of newspapers. In his hurry to be out of that kitchen, he’d ended up carrying it here after all.

‘Going to sleep already, are you?’ Charles said, with a chuckle.

‘No, just sky gazing.’

‘Thinking about your girlfriend?’

‘My ex-girlfriend, you mean.’

A pause; then, in a much more serious tone, ‘What’s happened?’

‘You obviously haven’t read
The Sunday Reporter
this morning.’

‘I’m a
Times
man, as you can see.’

‘It’s probably in there, too – I haven’t looked yet. Anyway, the
Reporter
tells you all you need to know, and makes up the rest. Page two.’

He rolled over, selected the right paper from the bag under his head and handed it to Charles. Then he lay on his back again and stared up at a bank of cloud drifting in from the west. To his left he heard the rustle of pages and a sharp intake of breath, followed by a heavy sigh.

At last, Charles spoke. ‘I had no idea. Must be terrible for you, dealing with all this media crap on top of the break-up.’

‘Doesn’t help.’

‘You put on a brave face last night.’

Rick debated whether to admit that he hadn’t known then, but decided to keep quiet. He was still feeling numb about the whole Shelley thing. And his phone was strangely silent, when he was half-expecting a call from Guy. Or maybe Guy was too busy talking to the tabloids …

Charles went on, ‘I can completely relate to what you’re going through. Ten years ago, near enough, I was madly in love and she dumped me. In the nicest possible way, of course, but it hurt like hell.’

Rick thought he detected a catch in his voice. Obviously still not over her, whoever she was.

A chorus of shrieks in the distance. He turned his head and saw three women bearing down on them. Charles’s sisters, with Mona. No one else.

He let out a long breath. ‘Didn’t realise your womenfolk were interested in fishing.’

Charles gave a rueful laugh. ‘It’ll be you they’re interested in, not the fishing.’

‘Just what a badly bruised ego needs,’ Rick said lightly.

And he spent the next hour proving it. Flirting with Lou and Henrietta. Dodging Mona’s ‘sympathetic ear’ overtures with unusual tact. And keeping thoughts of Anna Elliot at bay.

No fish caught. No papers read. But a sense of self restored.

Anna and the boys went the long way round to the Great House, so that she could call at the village shop. It seemed a better option than checking
The Sunday Reporter
’s website on Mona’s computer, which would mean phoning her for login details and facing an inquisition.

Ollie had to sit in the stroller, leaving Harry to walk, and progress was painfully slow. When at last they reached the shop, Anna was relieved to find it empty – apart from old Mrs Stokes who’d apparently come to buy her weekly ticket for the National Lottery. Iain was explaining at the top of his voice that it had taken place last night, she must have got her days mixed up, and did she want to buy next week’s instead?

Anna stopped the stroller in front of the colouring books and told the boys to choose one, then turned her attention to the Sunday papers. Not many left, and no sign of the one she was after.

As soon as Mrs Stokes shuffled off, Anna approached the counter. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any spare copies of
The Sunday Reporter
? A friend’s asked me to get hold of one for her.’

‘Sorry, no. I never order many in, not much call for it round here most of the time,’ Iain said, brusquely. Maybe he’d had a queue of women already this morning, all wanting that particular paper ‘for a friend’, all refusing to spend their money on anything else. He went on, ‘Rick Wentworth bought the last two early this morning, you could always track him down and ask him if one’s a spare.’

Yeah, right.

But she smiled her thanks and handed over the money for the colouring book Ollie had found. Much nicer than yesterday’s, thank you, he informed her gleefully when they’d left the shop; not one single fairy from cover to cover.

When they reached the lane leading to the Great House, she paused. There was more activity than usual on the high street. Cars parked nose to tail, men chatting to each other – some with those cumbersome cameras that looked like weapons. Just then, the Crofts came out of their cottage and the men clustered round them like flies, shouted questions, fired their gun-cameras.

The media had arrived in Uppercross. Poor Rick. Poor Sophie and Ed.

She continued up the lane, chilled – despite the unseasonable warmth – by a sudden thought. Rick might have to take refuge somewhere until the fuss died down. Somewhere that stood in extensive grounds, to prevent prying eyes – and cameras – from tracking his every move. Somewhere like the Great House, where she was taking the boys.

She wasn’t sure she could face another meeting; at least, not yet. But how could she get out of lunch? Impossible without letting people down, or having them wonder … Like a rabbit trapped in car headlights, she couldn’t think which way to run; then Harry tugged on her hand and pointed. On a nearby nettle was a Red Admiral, experimentally flexing its wings as if surprised by this resurgence of summer, and instantly her mood brightened. She had to meet Rick again some time, she reasoned. And at least now she’d made an effort with her appearance. Washed and blow-dried her hair; used make-up to disguise the dark circles under her eyes and add a little colour to her face; found that jumper, and decided she looked OK in it.

Footsteps behind her, where one of the paths from the lake joined the lane. But it was only Charles.

‘Hi there – great idea to come in the stroller, Ollie, I thought Aunty Anna would have to drive you. What’s that, Harry? Yes, I’ll take you to see Belle and Bracken, I just need to speak to Grandma first.’ An appraising look at Anna. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Catch anything?’

‘No, too much going on. Half the bloody family turned up – Lou, Henrietta, even Mona.’ A pause. ‘You’ve heard about Rick and his girlfriend splitting up?’

‘Yes.’ She forced herself to imagine Rick as a passing acquaintance, to put on a convincing act, to ask after him with just the right amount of concern. ‘Such a shame. How is he?’

‘Seems to be taking it all in his stride, actually, and it doesn’t seem to have put him off female company. Which is amazing when you think he’s got Lou and Henrietta giggling at everything he says, funny or not, and Mona badgering him to pour out his troubles.’

They were nearing the house; she could hear the dogs barking. ‘So … what about the Non-Appreciation Society?’

‘The what?’ He looked at her blankly.

She didn’t want to elaborate too much in front of the children. ‘We talked about it yesterday, remember? The inaugural meeting was going to be last night, but you didn’t think there’d be much support.’ And even less now, by the sound of it.

‘Oh,
that
. Maybe we should give it a miss, I feel rather sorry for him. Seems like a nice bloke, underneath.’

Male solidarity. You couldn’t beat it, so you may as well give in gracefully.

‘By the way,’ Charles went on, ‘the press are here in force. Sophie Croft phoned Rick and warned him to stay away from her place. So he’ll be joining us for lunch – and probably longer. My sisters are in ecstasies. As far as Henrietta’s concerned it’s nothing serious, you know, she just can’t resist a bit of sibling rivalry. I mean, she’s almost engaged, for God’s sake. In fact, I may see if Kyle wants to have lunch with us. Nip anything between Henrietta and Rick in the bud.’

Kyle McIntyre ran the Musgrove farm and had been going out with Henrietta for two years. With good farm managers thin on the ground, Roger and Barbara thought the world of him; whether Henrietta did was harder to tell.

Charles added, ‘Lou, on the other hand …’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned expressively.

Anna knew exactly what he was thinking. Lou was unattached and much more single-minded than her sister. Whatever Lou wanted, Lou usually got.

Chapter Fifteen

Rick found himself unexpectedly back at Uppercross Manor shortly before lunch, but in a much happier frame of mind. They’d packed up fishing half-an-hour earlier, when Barbara phoned Charles to ask if he’d seen her spectacles. He hadn’t, but went off to the Great House anyway to ‘do a proper briefing’.

Handling the press invasion seemed to have brought out hidden depths in Charles. He was now behaving as though he had the lead role in a third-rate war movie, planning ‘Operation Dunkirk’ in enthusiastic detail and firing off a barrage of instructions at the slightest opportunity. He told Rick to ‘lie low’ at the Great House and call his driver to fetch him – not on Tuesday morning, as ‘the enemy’ would expect, but at dead of night on Monday. He also ordered Sophie and Ed to take a leisurely stroll with rucksacks on their backs. Ideal cover, he explained, for bringing Rick his belongings – but they must take a particularly circuitous route to the Great House and throw those ‘paparazzi johnnies’ well and truly off the scent. Rick suggested that he went to see Barbara too; but Charles insisted on going alone – he could ‘check that the coast was clear’ at the same time – leaving the others to follow at a more leisurely pace.

The path round the lake was only wide enough for two, and Rick was relieved when Lou – as opposed to Mona – manoeuvred herself alongside him. She was the tactile sort, grabbing his arm at every opportunity to steady herself, or alert him to sightings of monster trout – largely imaginary, he suspected. Eventually her arm simply stayed locked in his, and he felt it would be rude to ask her to remove it. Anyway, what was the harm in exchanging mindless banter with a young adoring female? Although it didn’t seem to go down well with Mona; as soon as the path widened, she took his other arm and demanded a detour via Uppercross Manor so that she could change her boots.

On this visit, Rick took a lot more notice of his surroundings. Uppercross Manor was little more than a couple of cottages knocked into one; clearly the name reflected Mona’s pretensions rather than reality. Thinking that Anna might be inside, he chose to wait out on the terrace – and Lou and Henrietta immediately did the same. But Anna wasn’t there; and the whole boot-changing exercise took far longer because Mona kept popping outside to see what she was missing.

Once, when Mona was safely indoors, Henrietta observed that Anna’s car was still here – a five-year-old Mini, Rick noted – and hoped that she hadn’t attempted to carry Ollie to the Great House. Lou retorted that Anna gave those children too much attention for their own good – and was it all that surprising when she seemed to be on a permanent guilt trip where Mona and Charles were concerned? Rick listened and wondered, but said nothing – yet.

At last Mona was ready and they set off for the Great House. Charles came to meet them, anxious because Rick had been back to the Cottage – ‘too near the enemy lines for comfort’. When he realised that the Cottage was Charles’s name for Uppercross Manor, Rick smiled to himself. He’d known Charles and Mona less than twenty-four hours, but already he’d have been amazed if they could even agree which day of the week it was.

And so, when he found himself in the same room as Anna once again, it was quite different from last time. More people, more noise … He sensed her, rather than saw her … For a moment, he was distracted by Lou putting an ice-cold beer in his hand – and a red-hot, as yet unspoken, invitation in his mind; but she was called away, and he was alone, and preparing himself …

Then something cannoned into his legs and he almost spilt his drink.

‘Careful, Harry.’

Her voice – and the years crumbled away … He was jumping over the rocks to be with her and she was saying, ‘Careful, Rick.’ She never shouted, never had to; he always heard her, as if his brain was tuned to a special frequency … Other memories intruded. On the boat, just the two of them. His voice, strangely hesitant: ‘My grandmother used to say – if you can’t be good, be careful.’ And her laugh, soft and seductive, like her skin against his: ‘Well then, we’d better be careful, hadn’t we?’

He screwed his eyes shut. To hell with the past, and to hell with her–

‘Are you all right?’

Her voice again, all husky with concern as if he was a bloody basket case. His eyes flicked open. Her face, too near, and white as a ghost.

She had a child in her arms, the same little boy as before. He stared at Rick, eyes round and bright with concern, lower lip trembling. ‘Man hurt?’

Spot on, Harry, but it wasn’t anything
you
did. I can tell you about it, if you’re interested. Trouble is, it’s not the sort of hurt you can see or touch. And you probably haven’t covered metaphysics yet on the nursery school curriculum, although I’m sure it’s just a matter of time …

Aloud he said tersely, ‘No, I’m fine,’ and made for the nearest door.

Sophie Croft was puzzled.

She and Rick were very close, even though they’d lived on different continents for most of their adult lives. And her marriage to Ed hadn’t made the slightest difference. If anything, both relationships seemed the better for it, with the men either competing for her approval or ganging up on her. All very good-natured, of course.

But she’d seen a change in Rick since his unexpected visit the previous weekend. More withdrawn, more edgy. And what puzzled her was that she didn’t believe it had much to do with Shelley, although she knew that they’d quarrelled before he’d left.

She’d been furious with him earlier in the day. Partly because she’d only found out about Shelley from an obliging journalist; partly because she didn’t know where he’d gone and he wasn’t answering his phone. When he finally condescended to pick up and she heard the peals of girlish laughter in the background, she saw red.

‘You really piss me off sometimes! How do you imagine I felt when I opened the front door this morning and found a load of journalists outside? It put the fear of God into me, and Ed too. For one awful moment, we thought–’

He cut her short with, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal.’ She could barely make out the words above another burst of laughter at the other end of the phone.

‘No, doesn’t sound like it,’ she said, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘Where the hell are you?’

‘I’m fishing.’

‘What for? Loud women?’

‘Definitely.’ She could hear the grin in his voice.

‘I must say,’ she went on, ‘it was
so
kind of you to arrange for the media to enlighten us about your private life. And we’re
so
pleased that you’re enjoying your fishing, let’s hope you don’t catch something too soon. You might be better analysing what went wrong with your last relationship before rushing on to the next one.’

A pause; then he said, in a more serious tone, ‘I’m not discussing that now.’

‘When are you going to discuss it, then?’

He muttered something about ringing her back and hung up. But it was Charles who phoned a few minutes later, with some gibberish about Operation Dunkirk and a stream of ridiculous instructions. She’d wanted to tell him where to go, but Ed said they should just do it.

Bad sign, Rick not talking to her.

And now she was back at the Great House for the second time in two days. Staying for lunch, when all she wanted to do was go home and chill out after lugging that bloody rucksack half-way across Somerset. She suspected Ed felt the same. To cap it all, she couldn’t find Rick, even though Roger had assured her that he’d just seen him here, in the sitting room. She gave one last look round and let out a great sigh of exasperation.

‘If you’re after Rick, he’s outside.’

She turned and looked down into a pale heart-shaped face with large grey eyes. A tired face, but with a fragile beauty that she imagined most men would find irresistible, once they noticed it.

The woman spoke again; an attractive voice, low and soothing. ‘Would you like me to show you?’

‘That would be great. Thanks.’

Sophie followed the woman out of the room and along a hallway, where they stopped at a half-glazed door. Beyond it was the walled garden that she’d seen once or twice before; large and square, with a stunning profusion of colours and textures even in early autumn. Mind, she’d have done it a bit differently – made the paths curve a bit more and moved those hostas to the other side for more shade.

‘I imagine he’s at the far end by now,’ her guide said, with a shy smile.

‘Excuse me, you are–?’

‘Anna Elliot, Mona Musgrove’s sister.’

Sophie waited for the catchphrase ‘and daughter of Sir Walter Elliot, 8th Baronet’, but it didn’t materialise.

She smiled back. ‘I’m Rick’s sister, Sophie Croft. How did you guess it was him I wanted?’

Anna blushed. ‘You look very similar.’ She added, rather disjointedly, ‘Based on his newspaper photos, I mean. I’ve only met him briefly today.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘See you,’ and hurried off.

Sophie found Rick at the far end of the garden, where Anna had predicted, sitting on a bench and staring at the ground in front of him. As she approached, he looked up and frowned.

‘Look, Soph, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Shelley this morning. Believe it or not, I wanted to get away and think, rather than talk. And when Charles invited me fishing, I didn’t expect his sisters to turn up.’

She shrugged. ‘That’s OK. And I’m in a better mood than I was earlier. I’ve just met an Elliot of Kellynch who I feel I could actually like.’

‘Really.’ He focused his gaze on something in the distance.

‘Her name’s Anna, she reminds me of a violet. Yes, a shrinking violet. You know – a lovely little thing, but easily overlooked.’

‘Especially by men who don’t want anything to shrink.’

She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Trust you. And I forgot, you’re fishing for loud women, aren’t you? Like those big showy dahlias over there.’

‘Exactly. Give me a big showy dahlia rather than a shrinking violet, every time. By the way, what plant am I?’

‘Giant knotweed, I suspect, after this latest assault on your ego.’ She pulled him to his feet. ‘Ready to run rampant and sow its seed here, there and everywhere.’

‘Ouch. You always did know how to cut me down to size.’

They smiled at each other, linked arms and walked back to the house.