The Guilty Secret (12 page)

We stopped walking and he turned me to him, kissing me again, leaving no doubt in my mind.

I snuggled into his shoulder. ‘You'd better come back to my villa and we'll have breakfast. It will give me a chance to put you in the picture regarding the rest of the enclave's occupants.'

‘It's just your Aunt and your cousin and her husband, isn't it?'

‘No. There's a girlfriend and her husband and another childhood friend there.'

‘Tell me over fresh coffee and toast. I'm starving. I haven't eaten since I left Vigo.'

I opened the villa door, glad to see that Joanna-Maria had still not arrived. I wanted to make Jonathan's breakfast myself. Just having him there made the villa like home and not just another impersonal room. He stood behind me, arms around my waist, kissing the nape of my neck as I took cups and saucers from the cupboard and milk from the fridge.

‘Are you always so affectionate? It could make my housework very difficult.'

‘Or impossible,' he agreed, turning me round to face him. As his head bent to mine I stiffened.

‘
Oh no!
'

‘What is it?'

‘The clan. They must have seen us walking back. They're arriving in full force.'

Through the kitchen window I could see Aunt Harriet with Miles and Tom on either side of her, and Harold and Rozalinda a few yards behind. Rozalinda was waving, not to me, but in the direction of Miles' cottage. Simultaneously I heard the distinctive sound of Phil's door being slammed shut behind him.

‘Damn,' Jonathan said good-naturedly. ‘Have they no sense of timing?'

‘Apparently not. You stay in the kitchen all ready to make your grand entrance. I'll go and let them in.'

He let go of me reluctantly, squeezing my hand hard. There was no need for me to open the door, it was all ready opening. Phil was saying:- ‘What a bloody hour of the day to arrive,' and Rozalinda pushed past him, radiant and beautiful showing no trace of the ravages of the previous day, saying ‘Where is he, Jenny? Aunt Harriet caught a glimpse of you both from her window,' and then, letting go of me, asked coquetishly:- ‘He hasn't been here all
night
, darling, has he?'

‘Don't talk such rot,' Phil said bad-temperedly and she pouted, looking across to Tom for support. He gave it in a flashing smile, saying:- ‘Come on, Jenny. Where have you got him hidden?'

Before I could reply I heard the kitchen door open behind me and Jonathan entered the room.

I had a perfect view of the expression on all their faces. Aunt Harriet paled, her mouth opening noiselessly. Mary stared at him, bewildered. Tom, incredulous. Phil began to move towards me and then Rozalinda screamed and went on screaming until Harold grasped hold of her and shook her hard.

Stunned, I turned to Jonathan. ‘What is it? What's the matter?'

Phil had hold of my arm.

‘I think you got his name wrong, Jennifer.' And then, almost brutally, he said to Jonathan:- ‘This is Jennifer Harland.'

Slowly Jonathan walked across the room towards me. I was vaguely aware that everyone else, apart from Phil, had instinctively moved backwards. Jonathan's face was dreadful. His expression one of such fury and grief that I thought I was going to faint. Then his hand came up and struck me across the face hard.

‘
You bitch. You filthy, lying, murdering little bitch!
'

I couldn't breathe. My ears were drumming, and then I pitched forwards in a vortex of thundering blackness, to lie senselessly at his feet.

‘Have a nice weekend,' Sister Maynard called from her office as I went off duty.

‘Thanks, I will.' I put my head round the glass door of her office. ‘Little Kenny Barnes isn't too happy. Perhaps you could ask Nurse Rowse to keep a special eye on him.'

‘I will. It's always the same if his mother doesn't make the afternoon visiting.'

I hurried across to the nurses' home and changed out of my staff nurse uniform and into sweater and jeans. Then I hurriedly threw my night things and the book I was reading into my bag and went out to my car. The Fiat was my pride and joy. The first thing I had ever bought myself. I settled myself happily behind the wheel and rolled down the drive and out onto the main road. It was a comfortable hour's run to Templar's Way and I judged I should be there about six-o-clock. It would give me plenty of time to talk to Aunt Harriet and catch up on the latest village news, and to have a bath and change in readiness for Phil's party.

Bromley High Street was relatively quiet as I cruised down it half an hour later. I turned right for Hayes, breathing a deep sigh of contentment as I sped across the common. From here on it was villages and open countryside. And home. Bluebells crammed the woods, the branches meeting above the narrow road, shadowing everything in a soft green. I plunged down a steep wooded hill, past the church I had been christened in and which still had original Norman foundations, and then crossed the valley and climbed up to the opposite hilltop where Templar's Way commanded magnificent views across the Weald.

The distant church bells chimed six as I drove past the ‘Royal Oak' pub and rolled down the high hedged lane to Aunt Harriet's Tudor beamed cottage.

She was in the garden, secateurs in one hand, an armful of dahlias in the other.

‘Jenny! You're lovely and early. I was just picking some flowers to take along to Phil's. Not that he'll notice them, but his cottage does always have a threadbare look of bachelorhood and I think the flowers help to soften it.'

She took my arm. ‘ It's going to be a lovely evening. Harold and Rozalinda flew back last week.'

Beyond the silver trunks of the birch trees the Weald lay bathed in the golden rays of the dying sun. I sighed happily.

‘It's lovely to be home. It seems an age since I was last here.'

‘Nonsense. It's only a month,' Aunt Harriet said practically. ‘What are you doing for your holidays this year? Are you going with Jane again?'

‘No, Jane got married at Christmas.'

‘So she did. I'd forgotten. Isn't it about time you started to think in that direction yourself?'

I laughed. ‘Who with? Phil?'

‘Yes,' she said, taking the smile off my face. ‘Who else?'

‘I don't think Phil is ready to get married yet. And I'm sure I'm not.'

‘I think you're wrong about Phil. You know what they say. The spectator sees most of the game.'

‘Oh Aunt Harriet,' I laughed and hugged her arm.

‘Sometimes Jenny, I doubt your judgement,' and with a reproving look she opened the cottage door and went into the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

‘How is Rozalinda?'

‘Fine. Miles is coming down. They are to star together in a new film. She seems very excited about it.'

‘Miles?'

‘He had a small part in her last film. I believe this one is a little bigger. He's not the leading man, of course. They're still casting for that.'

‘I bet he's six feet tall and devastatingly handsome.'

Aunt Harriet stopped arranging the flowers. ‘How did you know?'

‘Because Rozalinda's men friends always are. I'm going for a bath now. What should I wear. Long or short?'

‘Long I think. You know how Rozalinda likes to dress up.' She picked up a rose and rammed it rather crossly next to an aster.

‘I don't know why the hell I'm doing this,' Phil said, as he let us into his tiny cottage at the far end of the village. ‘I must be mad.'

‘Don't be a spoil sport, Phil. You haven't had a party in ages.'

‘And I wouldn't be having one now if I had any sense. I'm glad you got here before anyone else.' He gave me a brotherly kiss on the cheek. ‘Rozalinda and Harold are coming and bringing a host of people.'

‘It will be fun. We haven't all been together for ages. How is Mary?'

‘Fine. Full of the children. Timothy can walk now, which is apparently a stupendous achievement.'

‘Don't be such a bore, Phil. It is. For Mary.'

He grinned. ‘ Nice to have you home, Jennifer.'

‘Nice to be back.'

Aunt Harriet displayed her flowers around the room, checking on the drink and the food that Phil had laid out buffet style in the kitchen.

‘Satisfied?' he asked.

Her face softened as it always did when she looked at Phil. ‘The food looks beautiful. You'll make a very good husband, Phil.'

‘I'd make a lousy husband,' he said good-naturedly, carefully avoiding my eyes.

‘The doorbell rang and he groaned. ‘Here we go. Once more into the breach…'

It was Mary and Tom. I noticed with something of a shock that Mary's figure was beginning to thicken around the waist and hips, making her look several years older than she was. She looked vaguely preoccupied.

‘I hope that girl who is baby sitting is reliable. We've never had her before and Helen has the beginnings of a cough. I gave her the number, but …'

‘Heavens, girl, we're only a hundred yards from home,' her husband said in affectionate exasperation. ‘She has Phil's telephone number and she'll ring if she needs to. I don't intend to spend the evening running between here and home checking up on the baby-sitter!'

Mary looked sheepish, her fingers interlocking with his. ‘Sorry, darling I promise I won't spoil the evening by worrying.'

‘When does our star arrive?' Tom asked.

‘Any minute now,' Phil answered him as Rozalinda's tinkling laugh sounded from the garden.

The door opened and Rozalinda, a sapphire blue mink slung carelessly around her shoulders, a wisp of silk enhancing every curve, paused for us all to admire. Then, having made her entrance she dropped the mink onto the nearest chair and came towards me, arms outstretched.

‘Jenny, darling. How absolutely
super!
I thought you were in London nursing the sick and dying!' her lips brushed my cheek, her heavy perfume suffocating me. ‘I must say you still
look
normal enough!'

‘Because I am,' I said placidly, too used to Rozalinda to take offence.

‘God!
No-one
who
chooses
to be with old and ill people can be classed as
normal!
'

‘My oldest patient is twelve.' I said dryly, but it fell on deaf ears.

‘A very worthwhile profession,' Harold mumbled from behind her, trying to catch hold of my hand and failing as Rozalinda swung wide once more, pushing him out of the way as if he were no more than a fly.

‘Isn't Miles here yet? He said over the phone that he has the most
stupendous
news for me …'

Harold finally succeeded in wriggling round his wife. He was thirty years older than her, balding and without any redeeming feature except his perpetual good humour and unswerving devotion.

‘Nice to see you again, Jenny.' The heavy pouches around his eyes made them almost invisible and his double chin had grown to swaying proportions since I had last seen him. ‘ Mustn't take too much notice of Rozalinda's remarks. Doesn't mean them.'

‘No, Harold. I know that. How is everything?'

‘Fine, fine. Rozalinda has just finished “The Pretenders” in France and now she and Miles are to star in another film. It's a marvellous part for Rozalinda, but so far I'm keeping it as a surprise.'

‘I don't think I've met Miles.'

‘Grand chap … devoted to Rozalinda.' I looked over to where Rozalinda had trapped Phil in a corner, her body far closer to his than was necessary. Mary had told me that she thought it very bad of Rozalinda to have invited Miles to Templar's Way. Rozalinda had told her some months back that she was having an affair with him, and though Mary had come to accept Rozalinda's behaviour as unchangeable, she had been indignant that Rozalinda should have the nerve to bring her present lover to Templar's Way.

‘I can't understand Harold,' she whispered to me, as Harold threaded his way among more arriving guests. ‘He must
know.
'

‘Not about Miles, he doesn't. He thinks he's a grand chap.'

Mary's little face looked tightly in Rozalinda's direction. ‘I don't understand her. I wouldn't be unfaithful to Tom if my life depended on it.'

‘No, I know you wouldn't,' Mary's devotion to her husband was nearly as slavish as Harold's to Rozalinda.

‘How are the children?'

‘You must come round in the morning and see them. You'll never believe how Helen has grown …'

The small cottage was packed now with friends of Phil's that I didn't know and friends of Rozalinda's. A tall, dark haired man, with a suntanned face and perfect set of teeth was coming towards us, a bottle of wine in his hand.

‘Can I fill your glasses?'

‘Miles, I don't think you've met Jenny, have you?' ‘No, I certainly haven't.' His dark eyes held mine admiringly.

‘Jenny, Miles Sullivan. Jenny is Rozalinda's cousin.'

He filled my glass, standing so close that his body brushed against mine.

‘I've heard Rozalinda talk about you. She didn't tell me you were a beauty as well. Your bone structure is even better than Rozalinda's.'

I moved a step backwards, away from the aroma of after-shave. ‘You're talking about me as if I were a horse.'

He laughed. ‘No offence meant. You're just a very beautiful woman and it was the last thing I expected to find in this God-forsaken place. Apart from Rozalinda, of course.'

‘This God-forsaken place is my home. And Rozalinda's as well, though she isn't here very often now. It also happens to be one of the most beautiful villages in Kent.' And I turned my back on him, not an easy thing to do in the crush that milled around us, and squeezed through the laughing, chattering bodies in search of Phil.

Rozalinda had her arm twisted tightly through his, the centre of a large, laughing circle. Tom was refilling her champagne glass, a bemused expression on his face. He had only met her a few times since he had married Mary and whereas to us she was Rose Lucas whom we had known all her life, to Tom she must have been the epitome of a film star, bringing to Templar's Way, however briefly, some of the glamour of the film world. I could feel someone's eyes on me and turned. Miles was staring across the room at me, a quizzical expression on his face, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth as our eyes met. I felt myself flushing and quickly averted my head. Mary squeezed through the crush, nearly knocking my glass out of my hand.