The Real Katie Lavender (32 page)

Tess and Zac spoke at the same time. ‘And you’ve what?’

Katie blushed. ‘And last night, once he’d explained he wasn’t really my cousin, we . . . we kissed.’

Again Tess and Zac spoke as one. ‘
Kissed?
’

Katie gave them the edited highlights of what had taken place on the riverbank. She also told them about the alarming shocky moment she’d experienced when she’d first set eyes on Lloyd in Brighton, something she’d deliberately withheld from Tess until now.

‘How divine,’ Zac cooed. ‘It’s
soooo
romantic.’

‘But is it?’ Katie asked. ‘How will the rest of the family react? I can see all sorts of problems ahead. And if I’m really honest, there’s still a part of me that’s concerned what people will think; you know, that technically we’ll always be defined as cousins.’

Tess wrinkled her nose. ‘Technically defined? What kind of language are you speaking these days?’

‘You know what I’m saying. How others will see us.’

‘Since when have you ever worried about what others think of you?’

‘Zac’s right. Which means there’s something else that’s bothering you. What is it?’ Tess’s expression intensified, a sure sign that her intuitive radar had just cranked up a gear.

‘OK, it’s this,’ Katie said. ‘What if we do get seriously involved and then it all goes wrong and we end up hating each other?’

‘What, like you and Ian?’

Katie frowned at Zac. ‘I don’t hate Ian.’

‘Well I do. He was disgustingly homophobic.’

‘He wasn’t!’

Tess nodded. ‘He was, Katie. You just never saw it. He nearly cacked himself once when Zac put his arm around him.’

Katie was shocked. ‘What else didn’t I notice about him?’

Zac shrugged. ‘Nothing much, just that he was a creepy twat. We were terrified you’d marry him. But I had it all planned: when the time came, I’d have been up on my feet in the church with a long list of just causes and impediments. I’d have stormed the altar and refused to get down until you came to your senses.’

Katie laughed. ‘Oh Zac, you’re such a headcase. But I do love you. Why did you never say anything?’

‘You wouldn’t have listened. You wanted to believe in Ian. And at the time, you seemed to need him more than you needed us.’

Once more Katie was shocked. ‘Never! That’s never going to happen. I’m always going to need you two in my life.’

Tess clapped her hands impatiently. ‘Hey, people! We’re getting off track here. Stay focused. Why would it be so awful for you to try a relationship with Lloyd and for it to go wrong? It’s the risk we all take.’

‘But he and I are members of the same family, a family, strange as it might seem, that I want to be a part of. So how would we face each other if we fell out badly?’

‘Ah . . . good point.’

‘And there’s something else. Something I have personal experience of. Lloyd has recently lost his father, and he’ll be going through the grieving process for some time yet. Look how I turned to Ian when Mum died. And then what happened when I was over the worst of my grief: I realized the relationship had run its course and dumped him. I’m not proud of that. I don’t want to be a convenient distraction for Lloyd, someone he’ll shrug off when he doesn’t need me any more as a crutch.’

Zac whistled. ‘You’re assuming a hell of a lot, sweetheart. Just because that was your experience with Ian, it doesn’t mean it’s a one-size-fits-all situation.’

‘I hate to say it twice in one conversation,’ Tess said, ‘but Zac’s right. You’re doing what you always do, overanalysing people. Don’t try and think for Lloyd; let him do his own thinking.’

‘Take it from me,’ Zac said, ‘from what I’ve seen of him, the boy looks plenty big enough to think for himself.’

‘You’re such a lech, brother dear.’

He laughed. ‘You know me: if the bonnet fits, I’ll wear it.’

‘But seriously, Katie, what if Lloyd’s the one? He did give you a shocky moment, after all. Why not give it a go? You don’t have to rush things.’

‘For what it’s worth, I think it’s fate.’

Katie laughed. ‘You say that every time you meet somebody new, Zac.’

‘Just because it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. Uh-oh, the object of our mutual desire is heading this way. No, strike that, he’s
striding
this way. God, I love a man who strides.’

Stirling was still in Oxford.

Five hours ago, he had got as far as sneaking into the bathroom to get dressed, and when he’d returned to the bedroom for his shoes, he’d found Simone sitting up in bed, hugging the duvet to her. ‘Are you running away to hide from your own shame or to spare me mine?’ she had asked.

He’d sat down heavily on the bed, hanging his head. ‘Both,’ he’d said.

‘Then don’t. Let’s be perfectly adult about this, shall we? Otherwise we’ll be in a worse mess than we were before.’

‘I don’t regret what we did,’ he’d said, lifting his eyes.

‘Nor do I. Which is why I don’t want you to run off.’

‘I have to go sometime.’

She’d smiled. ‘I’m not going to hold you captive. How about that lunch I was making for us?’

‘What an extraordinary woman you are.’

‘Thank you.’

They’d eaten lunch and somehow – wordlessly – they’d ended up in bed again. It had been less frantic second time around. But no less exhilarating.

‘I should go,’ he said now, when once more they were dressed and downstairs.

‘Yes, you should.’ She passed him his jacket.

‘I won’t bother you again like this,’ he said when he was at the door. ‘I won’t become a nuisance to you.’ He kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, Stirling. Drive carefully.’

She had already closed the door when he started the car and pulled away from the kerb. He felt churlishly disappointed not to get a wave from her.

From the landing window Simone looked down on the street as Stirling drove off. She touched her cheek where he’d just kissed her. Don’t, she warned herself. Just don’t.

She turned from the window and went to her bedroom and stripped the bed. She took the bedding downstairs to the kitchen, stuffed it into the washing machine, tipped powder into the tray and pressed the button. ‘There,’ she said aloud as water began gushing. ‘All trace of him gone. As if it had never happened.’

She went back upstairs, removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as snow,’ she quoted a little sadly to herself.

Stirling had not told an out-and-out lie to Gina in years. Not since his affair with Fay. In the intervening years he might have fudged the truth once or twice, usually to cover a surprise he’d arranged for his wife, but the need for an ugly, bare-faced, back-covering lie had not occurred.

Until now.

But telling Gina he’d gone to Oxford to see Simone Montrose – even if he kept quiet about what they’d actually done – didn’t strike him as being a smart move. Justifying his visit by saying something like he owed it to his brother to make sure his mistress was coping was hardly going to cut the mustard with Gina in her current frame of mind. ‘So you care more about Neil’s tart than you do about my feelings, do you?’ he imagined her throwing back at him.

Yet the newly revealed reckless side to him was almost daring him to go down this route. Why not stir things up some more by hurling another grenade into the battlefield? Why was he always striving to keep the peace, to be so bloody reasonable?

It was late when he entered the village of Sandiford. He slowed his speed as he drew level with St Oswald’s, where they’d had Neil’s funeral and where Neil was buried in the churchyard. On the noticeboard against the flint wall there was a poster advertising the open weekend at The Meadows in support of the church roof fund. For the first time that day, guilt hit him: he’d let Pen down. He would have to make amends.

But before that, there was something he now felt compelled to do.

He left the car on the road and in the dark carefully followed the path round to the side of the church, his footsteps crunching on the gravel in the shadowy hush. He passed the lofty stone monument for which he’d always had a secret affection. Late Victorian and robustly sentimental, it was of an angel; with her eyes closed and her hands clasped in humble supplication, she was praying on one knee atop a three-foothigh plinth. What he’d always liked about the statue was the surprisingly sensual nature of the angel’s feet; they were bare, and the toes were long and slender. As he observed those elongated toes now, they evoked the unsettling memory of Simone’s bare feet.

He pressed on slowly towards Neil’s grave, just as the moon shot out from behind a cloud.

He came to a stop in front of the last plot in a row of the recently deceased. It was still without a headstone and looked obscenely fresh and new. There were flowers attractively placed in a pretty china vase and the scent of sweet peas, roses and sprigs of lavender was palpable in the still night air. Doubtless Pen had brought the flowers. He wondered how often she came. Prior to tonight, and other than the day of the funeral, he’d come here only once before. He had thought it might help. It hadn’t.

Now here he was again.

Why?

To seek forgiveness would be the obvious assumption.

But that wasn’t the reason. No. He wanted to tell his brother he understood. That was all. He stared down at the bare earth. ‘We’re all capable of doing what you did,’ he said, his voice low. ‘No one’s beyond temptation, of doing the unthinkable.’

He stood for a while to see if he would begin to feel ashamed at what he’d done. If it didn’t happen here, where would it?

Minutes passed. The moon came and went intermittently behind scudding clouds. But nothing. He felt no shame. None whatsoever.

He drove on. Then once again he slowed his speed. He turned into The Meadows. Here he did need to ask for forgiveness.

When Pen opened the front door to Stirling, she let out a small cry. ‘Oh, thank goodness you’re all right. I’ve been so worried about you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. ‘I couldn’t face being around people today. I just had to be somewhere else, anywhere but here.’

‘Stirling, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Not ever. But please, another time, promise me you’ll let me know you’re all right. That’s all I ask. After what happened to Neil, I couldn’t bear . . .’ Her voice wobbled and she broke off. She covered her mouth with a hand and shuddered.

‘Oh, Pen,’ he said, giving her a hug, ‘nothing’s going to happen to me. Come on,’ he soothed, ‘no tears over me. I’m not worth it.’ He guided her through the hallway to the kitchen. ‘Let me make you a drink. You look exhausted. Have you eaten?’

‘Yes. Pam and Sue stayed on again this evening while Lloyd took Katie and her friends into Henley. They’ve gone now, back to London and Brighton.’

‘And Katie and Lloyd, where are they?’

‘In the garden. I was just going upstairs for a bath.’

‘Would you rather I left you in peace so you could do that?’

‘No, stay and have a drink with me. There’s something I want to discuss with you.’

‘Do you ever swim in the river here?’

‘Of course. Why? Fancy a skinny-dip now?’

Katie laughed. ‘Another time.’

Lloyd nudged his shoulder against hers. ‘Chicken.’

‘Watch it, mister, or I’ll shove you in.’

‘I’d like to see you try.’

‘Oh, please don’t tempt me.’

‘I’m twice the size of you.’

‘And everyone knows size isn’t everything.’

He laughed and put his arm around her. They were sitting on the jetty at the end of the garden, their feet dangling a couple of feet above the water. He had waited all day for this moment. To be alone with Katie. ‘So how did I measure up with your friends?’ he asked.

‘Pretty well. Zac, of course, is wildly in lust with you.’

He laughed again. ‘I’ve not lost my touch, then. And for what it’s worth, I liked them. It’s going to seem very dull round here when you’ve gone. Do you have to rush back to Brighton after tomorrow?’

‘I can’t stay here with your mother indefinitely. And apart from anything, I have to try and find a job.’

‘You could always come and stay with me while you do that.’

She turned and looked at him. Just looked at him.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Probably too soon to suggest something like that, isn’t it?’

She placed a soft kiss on his mouth. ‘Let’s not do things too quickly,’ she murmured.

‘You’re right, of course,’ he said lightly, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on his disappointment.

‘I’ll come back soon,’ she said.

‘Define soon?’

She kissed him again, brushing her lips over his. He held her close and deepened the kiss, lingering over every sensation, his eyes closed, his pulse racing.

Stirling was staggered at what Pen had told him, of her suspicions about Lloyd and Katie. People joked that she didn’t know what was going on around her, other than what was growing in her garden, but he’d never gone along with that. When it came to Lloyd, Pen was always on the money.

But he for one hadn’t seen it coming. Lloyd and Katie? Potentially it could complicate things. On the other hand, it could create a bridge between Katie and the rest of the family. He feared, however, that it wouldn’t. Besides, wasn’t it a bit soon for Lloyd to have made a move on her? They hardly knew each other.

He drove home, having decided not to disturb Lloyd and Katie in the garden. He’d asked Pen to say hi to Katie from him and to tell her that he’d catch up with her tomorrow.

He let himself in at Willow Bank, bracing himself for Gina’s wrath. He had his lie prepared: he’d spent the day at the office, working his temper off after her ultimatum this morning.

Rosco had set aside Bank Holiday Monday as a day entirely for himself. No boring household chores to do, no bills to deal with, and no company work of any kind to pore over. He’d done everything yesterday, including a lengthy session of catching up on emails and checking a list of recent client money transfers made.

After Uncle Neil’s stunt, they now had strict procedures in place in the office regarding the double-checking of client portfolios. Bolting horses and stable doors sprang to mind, but never again – not if Rosco had anything to do with it – would Nightingale Ridgeway be involved in such a damaging financial scandal. Never again would it be possible for someone to do what Uncle Neil had done. Rosco’s modus operandi now was to suspect everyone of foul play until proven innocent. And if people didn’t like that, they could look elsewhere for employment. If it created an atmosphere of unease, good. That was what he wanted. He wanted everyone to be afraid and looking over their shoulder.