Read The Circle Now Is Made (King's Way Book 1) Online
Authors: Mac Fletcher
The Circle Now Is Made (King's Way Book 1) (8 page)
“No, I wouldn’t do that. Just tell me who you heard it from.”
Eddy fixed Greg with a half amused stare. “You knocking her off or something?”
“Who?”
“Penmaric’s widow - hotter than Vindaloo I hear.”
“No,” said Greg firmly, though he couldn’t resist smiling, “but between you and me, she knows nothing of such a message. Who did you hear it from?”
“Between you and me it
is
then!” Eddy confided. “Hud and Ten were discussing it one night, not long after Penmaric's death. Not that it was meant for my ears, mind. Don’t say anything to this bunch.”
Greg shook his head vigorously. “I wouldn't dream of it, but was anyone else in here at the time?”
“Not that I recall: no-one of consequence." Eddy scratched his brow pensively. "Just old Isaac.”
“Isaac?” Greg gulped down his drink.
“Local tramp - better known as the
man with a bag
.”
Chapter Five
Greg left the pub and went immediately to see Sarah.
‘Mrs P's takin’ a bath,” said the maid as she ushered into the lounge, “'Spec' she’ll be down d’rec’ly, but I'll go an' tell 'er.”
A few minutes later, a rose-pink Sarah swept into the room, smelling sweetly and clad only in a silken bathrobe. Greg caught his breath as he saw, through generous gaps in the robe, that she was naked beneath.
“Something wrong?” she asked without the least concern there might be, then without pause, “I'll get you a sherry?” She crossed to the drinks cabinet, certain Greg wouldn’t refuse.
“No, nothing wrong. It’s just some news - probably gossip - I’ve heard.”
“Go on,” urged Sarah.
After making her promise not to repeat the information, Greg told Sarah - without disclosing his source - what he’d learnt.
"It's news to me!" Sarah saw her drink off in one as she seated herself beside Greg on the Chesterfield. “But whatever's going on, I should have known that rat Tennant was part of it! I’ll get my maid to track down Nigel so we can gauge how much he knows.”
“That's the
last
thing I'd do - for my money it's better to say nothing at this stage!” Greg felt guilty - as though he’d been carrying tales. “I told you only because I thought it might throw some light on things. Say nothing and let me keep an eye on those two. I might also gain Nigel’s confidence when we go to Spain - and learn something of
real
value perhaps.”
Sarah nodded agreement. “I never trusted Tennant, yet Lawson idolised him for some reason: gave him butler status, almost. But what I don’t understand is, as any proceeds are to be shared to the penny, what could Tennant, Nigel - or anyone - hope to gain?”
Greg smiled at her naivety. “Everything, if your late husband left undisclosed assets. Are you
sure
he never mentioned anything? No antiques or holdings of any sort?”
Sarah shook her head as she rose and crossed to the cabinet to pour another drink. As she bent forward to place her glass on the table, her robe fell open momentarily. Greg was instantly aroused, and found it difficult to conceal the fact. He wriggled into a more comfortable position as Sarah handed him the drink, which he took with one hand and placed on the table before him. Simultaneously he grasped Sarah’s wrist with his free hand and tugged her gently towards him. Sarah offered no resistance. She flopped willingly onto the couch, her robe hanging partially open to expose her lithe, pink body. Greg’s head pounded. They kissed each other hard and furiously. He cradled Sarah around her waist and laid her gently back. “What if someone comes in?” he asked breathlessly. “Wouldn’t dare,” she purred as she flung her robe fully open, “besides, it’s much more fun when there’s a risk, don’t you think?” The pair lay fully stretched on the couch, both deliriously eager to make love there and then. Sarah laid her head back and gasped.
“Don’t be too gentle with me, Greg...Please…"
Both sat serenely back after their lovemaking, Greg drawing hard on a cigar he’d helped himself to. He was far from unhappy with the development: it was welcome, despite the fact that he felt suddenly committed.
“If I
do
help unearth buried treasure,” he said after some thought, “will you return the favour?”
“Depends on what it is,” replied Sarah flippantly.
“If we can raise the money, will you
promise
to sell us the cabin?”
Sarah laughed aloud. “If you can get us out of this mess, you can
have
it."
“I’m not after something for nothing.” Greg shook his head resolutely. “If we’re to have it, we’ll pay for it. I'd just like first refusal.”
Sarah rose to pour yet another drink, but Greg raised his hands in protest: as much as he’d come to love booze of late, he couldn’t drink an endless supply of sherry.
“There’s something else I’d better tell you, Greg.” The glibness had vanished from Sarah’s voice. “We’ve had a brilliant offer for the estate, which we're not in a position to refuse - unless you
unearth buried treasure,
as you put it.”
“Then..?”
“I’ve told you the cabin's as good as yours; it will make no difference to the sale of Penmaric. You and your girlfriend can have the property for the value of the land. The cabin was commissioned on a whim of Lawson's years ago, built on a shoestring and doesn't owe anyone a penny. The estate manager, Nigel and me have already discussed the situation, and I don’t think the price will be vast.”
“Jan isn’t my girlfriend - she’s lovely, but…” Despite his words Greg felt he'd like to help Jan and Mick, and in some way repay them for their consideration. And in spite of the wealth he’d known in the past, and his present grandiose surroundings, Greg could think of nothing he'd rather own than the comparatively modest acreage and cabin at the rear of the house.
***
"Two lattes?"
"Well…
I'll
have one for sure," said Tammy as she turned to a shy-looking girl with lank mousy hair and a pale complexion. "You've got plenty of time before your bus comes, Molly. Stay for another cup and I'll walk with you to the stop..."
"I've already ordered," cut in Goldie. "I can drink it if Molly has to rush off: I need to keep my caffeine level high in the absence of more potent stuff these days."
"No need, I'll stay," said Molly, "I'm enjoying the chat; it's just that my parents start pestering if I'm not back." Her voice was suddenly thick and emotional. "They've had enough worry, and Jack's too much of a handful for them these days."
"No problem at all," said Goldie considerately, looking at his watch. "We'll make sure you catch your bus." On taking a seat he flipped open a mobile. "These are my parents, look."
The group sat comparing pictures, drinking coffee and chatting for some ten minutes or so.
"I can't get over your little Jack, Molly," commented Tammy. "He looks such a rogue, so boisterous I'd imagine."
"He doesn't take after me, you mean," said the self-deprecating young lady.
"He will once you get your self-esteem back," said Goldie encouragingly. "You just don't
feel
very boisterous at the moment; I know I don't, but we'll get there."
"I'm sure we
all
will," added Tammy as she finished her latte and stood. "We'd better be off now Molly… watch my things while I nip to the loo please."
"I'll come with you," said Molly.
"No prob’s with me," said Goldie with a chuckle. "I might try your eye-liner, Tammy, but I'll see no one nicks the rest of your stuff."
*
For the next few days, Greg and Jan worked doubly hard, on both the cabin and surrounding land. Greg found life hard going in the caravan - through some of the bitterest February weather on record. The temperature hardly rose above freezing and the biting wind remained almost constantly in the north-east. It wasn’t unduly cold in the caravan though; Greg found it relatively easy to keep warm with the new heater - and Red, despite his early lack of enthusiasm, seemed to have fallen in love with his new home.
The problems arose when Greg wanted to do things normally taken for granted - like visiting the toilet, or showering. The site shower consisted of a crude twelve-holed brass rose, and delivered only biting cold water - when it wasn’t frozen up. Even a kettle of water was an effort to obtain at times.
"I think I'm finding out what
wild men of the woods
are about now," he was to remark to Bart one day, he and his brother Simon having volunteered to help with renovation during their spare time. Their assistance had been invaluable with the kitchen re-installation, as well as insulation and re-lining of the plastered walls. It reduced costs considerably, the only labour outlay going to local tradesmen hired to give professional finishes to all the work.
So as not to deplete the cash he’d clung to, Greg elected to live even more sparsely than to date. Having reduced his alcohol intake dramatically, the frugal wage he drew from Sarah paid his way, and eventually he was able to move his caravan onto the field below the cabin. That meant a saving on rent also, albeit a small amount. Greg became skilled at making inexpensive stews - from local veg. bought cheaply from neighbouring farms - though he didn't heed Eddy’s recipe for making broths from bacon wrappers and empty crisp-bags. Bart, on hearing Eddy’s proposal, came up with an even more novel idea.
Greg thanked Bart for his help. “I’ll get you to grease my chin if I’m desperate.”
*
Fortunately, the cabin needed little outlay on materials either, the most important requirements being preservatives, insulation, plasterboard and paint, etc. It had seemed a thankless task until, one afternoon Bart, Si, Greg and Jan had stood back to view their progress before the light faded. Gazing through a frame of hedges from the point where Greg had first seen the cabin, they could at last see a reward for their efforts.
It looked sharp and bright, the darkly stained wood given firm contrast by the solid base beneath, in turn softened by a few spontaneously planted shrubs and firs in the border they'd cut.
“If we can get the catering gear up and running before I leave, we’ll have nothing to worry about,” said Greg happily. “We'll have weeks to spare before opening at Easter.”
“Tell me it's none of my business if you like." A flash of doubt, almost hurt, crossed Jan’s face; she looked at the floor as she spoke. "I know I offered to have Red, and I will, but why are you so insistent on joyriding - if you can call it that, when you… we… would be better occupied here?”
“We've almost done, though, and as you say, you made the offer...” Greg stopped and considered for a moment. “Jan,” he said eventually, “there are things I should explain.”
Greg excused himself and led Jan into the cabin to recount events preceding his journey to Cornwall. He was glad to get it off his chest, conscious that his assumed identity was likely to cause embarrassment when finance was required.
“I didn’t set out to deceive anyone,” he explained. “I wanted to leave the past behind and be someone other than Greg Alison for a while. Then it became difficult to retract – embarrassing, even.”
Jan hadn’t been as slow on the uptake as Greg had imagined. “I thought you seemed to handle Sarah and her manager professionally - you certainly showed more composure than your average down and out. And I'd guessed there was more to you: you're a good lookin' bloke, Greg, but no one gets
those
lines under their eyes with a past as uncluttered as you made out.”
Greg then took Jan further into his confidence, enough to tell her of his ex-wife's debts and to entrust her with the bulk of his savings whilst he was away. "Do you mind, Jan. I can't bank it for good reasons."
"It's no problem as long as you know exactly what's there and seal it first."
“OK, and you're sure you don't mind looking after Red? I'd put him in a kennel but…"
“Don’t be stupid,” interrupted Jan. “Jamie will be over the moon.”
*
