The Real Katie Lavender (21 page)

‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ Gina said.

‘You think I’m in the mood to crack jokes on a day like today? Now that truly would be sick.’

‘But, Dad, it can’t be true. You wouldn’t do something like that. You just wouldn’t.’

‘I’m afraid I did, Scarlet.’

He didn’t see Gina’s hand coming. But he felt it hard against his face.

Cecily had come inside the house to look for Stirling. Hearing voices coming from the sitting room, she had crossed the hall and was about to push the door further open – it was ajar by a couple of inches – when she hesitated and shamelessly eavesdropped.

Anger scorched through her at what she heard. How dare Rosco be so breathtakingly rude about Neil! If he were younger, she’d march in there and box his ears. Just as she’d once done when she’d come across him goading Lloyd when they’d been small boys. ‘You’re not a real member of this family,’ Rosco had told Lloyd. ‘And nor is your dad. You don’t have the same blood as us.’

Stirling sounded incandescent now. She couldn’t ever recall him being so angry. She wanted to go in there and back him up, but he was more than capable of fighting his own battles. Then she heard him saying something that had her putting a hand to her mouth. No, Stirling! Not that. Not now. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a slap.

This could not go on. It was time to intervene. But no sooner had she put a hand out to the door than it was thrown wide open and Gina appeared in the doorway. Her face drained of colour, she glared at Cecily. ‘What kind of a mother are you to have raised two such awful sons?’ Not waiting for an answer, she pushed past and hurried away. Next came Rosco and Scarlet with Charlie in tow. They didn’t speak to her. They barely looked at her.

Cecily stepped into the room and saw Stirling standing alone. He looked ineffably wretched. ‘How much did you hear?’ he asked.

She went to him. ‘Enough to know that you said what needed saying.’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to tell them . . . not like that. But I couldn’t bear to hear them disparaging Neil the way they were.’

‘I’m proud of you for sticking up for him. I wanted to come in and join forces with you, but you were managing quite well without my interference.’

‘But I’ve hurt them. Particularly Gina. And the awful thing is, I did it deliberately. The red mist came down and I wanted to puncture their intractable certainty.’ He went over to the window and ran his hands through his hair. ‘What if they never forgive me?’

‘That was always going to be a risk.’

‘I could have lessened the risk, though. Now they’ll hate Katie before they’ve even met her. They’ll regard her as the enemy.’

‘Oh, Stirling, that was inevitable as well. But in time, when emotions have settled down and everyone is thinking straight again, then Scarlet and Rosco will want to get to know their half-sister.’

‘I wish I had half your confidence.’ He sighed heavily. ‘How’s Pen coping?’

‘She’s doing well. Lloyd is watching over her like a hawk. They’ll be glad when today is over.’

‘Did you meet Simone Montrose?’

‘No. I didn’t get a chance. She didn’t come back here. Which was perfectly correct of her, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so. Though I’m beginning to lose track about what constitutes a good idea now.’

‘What was she like?’

‘Hard to say. In common with us, she was probably not at her best.’

Now at home in Oxford, Simone was curled up on the sofa with a box of tissues at her side, holding a framed photograph of Neil. She had taken the picture two years ago, when they’d met on a flotilla sailing holiday in the Greek islands. She had never sailed before, but the friends she’d gone with had sworn that they’d teach her all she needed to know, that it would be a piece of cake. They had also claimed it would be the ideal way for her to meet new people and, who knew, maybe have a little fun in the form of a holiday romance.

There had been six boats in the flotilla, and she had met Neil the first evening of the trip, when they had anchored in the village harbour of Meganisi and, as a group, gone for dinner at a nearby taverna. Purely by random chance, she and Neil had sat next to each other, and she had enjoyed his company enormously, but hadn’t for a second considered him holiday romance material. Besides, he was married. She’d spotted his wedding ring straight away and during the course of the meal he had spoken often of his wife and son. She had felt happy and relaxed in his presence, which counted for a lot. Having been on her own for more than four years, she was tired of either being fixed up by well-intentioned friends or being hit on by men who assumed she must be so desperate she’d go to bed with anyone.

But Neil hadn’t hit on her; he had been highly entertaining and had made everyone laugh around the table, not just her. As the days drifted by, they found themselves gravitating towards each other for lazy picnic lunches on sandy beaches and boisterous evenings spent in tavernas. By the end of the holiday, she knew that something special had passed between them, something life-changing. He had felt it too, and very quietly, when they’d been swimming in the sparkling clear Ionion water on the last day of the holiday, he had admitted he wanted to see her again when they were back in England. ‘I shouldn’t be putting you in this situation,’ he’d said, ‘and I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this before. I never thought I was capable of cheating on my wife, but the thought of not seeing you again is making me feel ill.’

A week later, on her forty-fifth birthday, he came to see her in Oxford. She gave him a brief tour round the college where she worked as an art restorer, and then he drove her out for lunch at Le Manoir Aux Quat’Saisons, where he surprised her with a present: a double-strand pearl necklace. It wasn’t until he drove her home and she invited him in that he kissed her. Until then, there had been no real physical contact between them. For her part, it had been a blessed relief when his mouth had touched hers. They didn’t go to bed until a fortnight later. It had felt so natural between them, as though they’d known and understood each other’s bodies for a long time.

Whilst the sex between them was always good, it wasn’t what their relationship was founded on. It was the easy and honest rapport between them that they cherished the most. He told her about his marriage: how he loved his wife, but as a brother would love his sister – there hadn’t been anything physical between them for many years, but he cared deeply about her well-being. In turn, she told him about her eight-year marriage: how she had reluctantly ended it when she faced up to the sad truth that her husband’s drinking would destroy them both if she stayed. She told Neil things she had never shared with anyone else. Not even her closest friends.

They spoke almost every day on the telephone, and before she knew it, she was completely in love with him. And he with her. That was when she tried to break it off with him. She suddenly saw the futility of being in love with a man she could never have to herself. He was devastated and begged her to reconsider. But she held firm. A fortnight later, he came to see her and told her he was making plans to change his life so that he could be with her. He said the one thing he had to do was make sure that his wife would be financially secure for the rest of her life, and just as importantly, he wanted to secure their future together. He spoke of investments he was putting in place. He spoke of being a free man one day and asking her to marry him. He begged her to be patient, to put her trust in him.

And she did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man, so why not be patient? Why not help him through this difficult period in his life so they could then be together?

Fresh tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she recalled the last time she’d seen Neil, when he’d surprised her by coming to stay for three whole days and nights, something he’d never done before. On his last night with her he’d been on edge, pacing the floor in the kitchen, unable to settle. She had never seen him like that. ‘Drop everything and run away with me,’ he’d suddenly said. She’d laughed and replied, ‘I can’t, I have a hair appointment tomorrow.’ He’d grabbed hold of her hands and said, ‘I’m being serious. Come on, let’s do it. Let’s take a boat and spend the rest of our lives sailing round the Mediterranean. What’s to stop us?’ God help her, she’d laughed again and changed the subject by taking him upstairs to her bed. The next morning, he’d woken early, kissed her goodbye and promised to call her. That was the last time she saw him. He must have known then that what he’d set in motion was about to catch up with him.

How had she not suspected that something was dangerously wrong with him, that he’d set himself on a course from which there was no way back? And why hadn’t she simply agreed to run away with him? Wouldn’t that have been better than the guilt she now had to live with? She held the framed photograph to her heart. ‘Oh Neil,’ she murmured, ‘it’s all my fault. If only we had never met, you’d still be alive.’

She gulped to try and stem the flow of tears. But it was no good, and once again she was sobbing uncontrollably, just as she had at Neil’s graveside.

Neil had frequently said that his wife was one of the most kind-hearted people he knew, and after today, Simone knew that he hadn’t been exaggerating. The woman had been extraordinarily generous towards Simone, had shown her immeasurable compassion and understanding.

She had met the son, only briefly, and while he had been guarded, she sensed in him the young man that Neil had been so proud of. There had been no hostility from him, or his mother, which was what she had dreaded. She had feared that she had been invited to attend the funeral merely so that the family could emotionally corner her and hold her responsible for Neil’s death. But they hadn’t. Not even Neil’s brother, who she knew from their telephone conversation, when he’d explained that his sister-in-law had suggested she come to the church for the service, and had found talking to her extremely difficult.

She had recognized him straight away when she had entered the church, from photographs Neil had shown her. He had been shaking hands with a group of mourners, and seizing her chance when he’d been momentarily alone, she had plucked up her courage and discreetly introduced herself. She had asked him to pass on her thanks to Neil’s widow for allowing her to come, and had then moved off quickly so that he didn’t have an opportunity to respond. During the service, she had watched him transfixed as he’d given the eulogy for his brother and then when he had helped to carry the coffin out of the church.

Partway through the burial ceremony, she had felt his eyes on her, and when she’d met his gaze, he hadn’t looked away. There hadn’t been anything defiant in his expression, just an intense look of scrutiny. He’d probably been wondering what sort of loathsome woman she was to have an affair with a married man.

Let him think what he wants, she thought now. What did it matter? She would never see any of Neil’s family again, so why beat herself up over what they might think of her?

‘They do have food in Brighton, you know.’

‘I’m well aware of that.’

‘So why the food parcel, Granza?’

‘I don’t like turning up empty-handed or putting anyone to any trouble. And for your information, Mr Smarty-Pants, this is a hamper, and we’re going to surprise your cousin with a picnic.’

Lloyd took the hamper from his grandmother and placed it carefully on the back seat of his car. Then, after helping her into the passenger seat, he settled himself behind the wheel and drove out through the gates of South Lodge.

A month had passed since his father’s death, and occasionally there were moments when Lloyd felt that life seemed almost normal. Usually this was when he was absorbed in his work, when he was focused entirely on the piece of wood he was planing, sanding or staining and there was music playing on the radio in the workshop, and Adam and Pete were engaged in their customary good-natured banter, usually arguing over whose turn it was to make the coffee.

Then there were times when it all came crashing down on him again, and he struggled to make sense of anything that had come to light. The latest, and needlessly cruel turn of events was that the hospice for which Mum had so generously raised money had written to say they felt they could no longer accept her donations from the garden open days she put on at The Meadows. Tainted money, was the implication. After everything Mum and Dad had done for them, could they be more short-sighted? Or more hurtful? Lloyd doubted it.

He hated the position his mother had been put in. She deserved to be treated better; she had done nothing wrong. And didn’t she have enough to contend with, without the bank and building society freezing the joint accounts she’d had with Dad? And then the will was still to be read. They were in a state of limbo. It was a nightmare. And all of Dad’s doing.

Increasingly Lloyd felt like raging against his father for the mess he’d left behind him. Then he’d feel guilty at the strength of his anger and tell himself that anger wouldn’t help, and it certainly wouldn’t bring his father back, which he wanted more than anything. Nor would it give him the answers he needed. At night, when he couldn’t sleep, his head spun with myriad questions. Always he wanted to know why his father hadn’t left them a proper note, not just to explain why he’d done what he had, but something personal for them – a tangible goodbye, a final communication of love and assurance. A one-worded note saying ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough. He and Mum needed more. He had discussed the absence of a proper note with Stirling and Cecily, and between them, the only explanation they could come up with was that perhaps if Dad had started to write such a letter, it would have torn him apart and he wouldn’t have been able to go through with killing himself. He’d needed to keep it impersonal. Almost anonymous. They would never know for sure if that was the case, but one thing Lloyd was sure of was that he would go mad if he didn’t find a way to resign himself to never knowing the truth.

Today was what you could call another day in search of the truth: he was on his way to meet his newly discovered cousin for the first time.