The Real Katie Lavender (51 page)

She had needed to be back at home. For all sorts of reasons. One of them was that she wanted to feel closer to her parents. Her father had never lived in this house, but his presence was all around her in the framed photographs she had of him, along with his books and CDs that Mum had kept. And which, in turn, Katie had kept.

There was no question in Katie’s mind that Mum had loved Dad, but what she wasn’t so sure about was whether she had ever been tempted to tell her about Stirling after Dad had died. In those awful days when they’d been reeling with shock from the suddenness of his death, had Mum ever come close to blurting out the truth? Katie didn’t think she would be able to keep such an enormous secret, but Mum, she supposed, had done it because she loved Dad. Perhaps a promise made out of love was far easier to keep than one made out of duty. Wasn’t that what Stirling had said he’d done when he’d given in to Fay’s terms: he’d agreed to let her go because he’d loved her?

What Katie had done for Stirling on Saturday could not be described as a true act of love, as such, but it came close. She had only known him for a short time, yet she had begun to feel close to him. Seeing him so distressed, and knowing she was the cause of it, had upset her deeply. What else could she do but make the problem go away for him? That he had struggled to make the decision himself was good enough for her; it showed that he did care. It meant that she didn’t feel entirely rejected. Disappointed, yes. But not rejected.

Poor Mum. She had written that letter in the hope that Katie would meet her biological father and not feel alone in the world. ‘It didn’t work, Mum,’ she murmured. ‘I feel even more alone now.’ And it wasn’t just because she knew she would never see Stirling again; it was also because of Lloyd. She missed him already. So quickly she had got used to sharing things with him – a joke, a thought or even a whinge. It was the sign of a good relationship, Mum had always said, wanting to share the trivial as much as the important stuff.

She chewed on another marshmallow, then another, and reluctantly pushed Lloyd from her thoughts. It was no use dwelling on him; she would only start crying again if she did. She had to look to the future. And that future lay in a career change. She was going to go back to school to study. What was more, she would use a small part of Stirling’s trust fund to finance herself through the course. She had appeased her conscience by coming to the conclusion that to refuse to touch the money would be tantamount to throwing it back in Stirling’s face, and that seemed unnecessarily unkind to him. Coincidentally, a letter had arrived in the post today from Howard Clifford, asking her to get in touch about activating the fund. She had rung him immediately and arranged an appointment for later in the week. Next, she had sent off for a selection of brochures and application forms.

She was moving in the right direction, she had told herself when she went out to the garden to do battle with the weeds that had taken over in her absence. It was a shame she would never have the chance to thank the person who had inspired her to go down this route. But again, there was no point in dwelling on that.

She reached for another marshmallow and found that there was just one left; she’d eaten a whole bag. By rights she should be buzzing with sugar overload, but she wasn’t. She was bone-weary tired. She drank the last of her cocoa and put the empty mug next to her laptop on the table in front of her. She ran her finger over the mouse pad and the screen sprang to life. No new emails. And no chance that one from Lloyd or Stirling would pop up and take her by surprise – she had put a block on them both. A terrible thing to do, but it was for the best. She had done the same with her mobile, and had deliberately not switched on the answering machine. Hearing Lloyd’s voice would be too upsetting. Especially if he was angry with her. Which he had every right to be. She hoped he wasn’t angry with Stirling; that he could appreciate the impossible situation his uncle had been in.

She yawned. She should really go upstairs to bed, but she didn’t have the energy. She wriggled down on the sofa to get more comfortable and closed her eyes. Just five minutes, she told herself.

‘She might not let us in,’ Lloyd said, and not for the first time.

Stirling looked at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘As I said before, then we’ll have the conversation on the doorstep.’

‘She might not even open the door to us.’

‘She will. What’s more, we’ll stay there until she does.’

Lloyd thought of the grumpy neighbour he’d encountered early yesterday morning and had visions of the police being called. He also thought how this expedition in Stirling’s Aston Marton DB9 had all the makings of a very peculiar road trip.

Squashed in the back with Pen, whilst Cecily rode up front with Stirling, Lloyd kept hoping that Katie really was back in Brighton. At lunchtime today he’d got a call from Tess to say that she had gone home. ‘You mustn’t tell her I told you, though,’ Tess had said.

‘But how did you get my number?’ he’d asked.

‘I sneaked a look at her mobile when she was in the bath last night.’

‘I owe you,’ he’d said.

‘Yeah, you do. Just be sure to keep me out of things. Or at least until you’ve got it sorted with Katie. Then I’ll be happy to take the credit.’

That had been his first surprise of the day. Later, when he’d been locking up the workshop to go home, Stirling had appeared. ‘I know you won’t want to talk to me, Lloyd,’ his uncle had said, ‘but hear me out. Please.’

He had. Moreover, he’d agreed to Stirling’s plan, that of turning up in Brighton unannounced with both Pen and Cecily. The logic being that Pen and Cecily would be sure to convince Katie that she should listen to Stirling, along with anything Lloyd might want to say. Two grown men using two women, one of whom was ninety years old, to hide behind? Oh, Lloyd was more than happy to do it. The alternative had been for either Pen or his grandmother to ring Katie – assuming that Katie hadn’t put a block on every member of the Nightingale family – but Stirling wouldn’t listen; he’d said that this way, appearing en masse, would have far more impact and would convince Katie they meant business.

‘You OK, Granza?’ he said, worried that this might all be a bit much for her.

‘I’m as right as rain, Lloyd. Don’t you worry about me. In fact I’m rather enjoying myself. I can’t wait to see Katie’s face. Just make sure you have a winning speech up your sleeve when the time comes.’

Despite the mounting apprehension that was churning away at his stomach, Lloyd smiled. ‘I’m not going to give a winning speech with an audience, you know.’

Next to him, his mother put a hand on his knee. ‘Stop worrying, it’s all going to work out just fine.’

As Stirling followed the directions on the satnav and pulled into Katie’s street, Lloyd wished he had his mother’s certainty. The plan was for Pen and Cecily to knock on the door while Stirling and Lloyd stood to one side unseen, and only when Katie had recovered from the shock and invited the women in would he and his uncle reveal themselves.

Helping his grandmother out of the car, Lloyd gave her her walking stick and then rested a hand under her elbow as they walked the short distance to Katie’s house in the light cast from the street lamps. It was almost ten thirty, much too late to be making unexpected house calls. What if Katie had already gone to bed and was fast asleep? What then? Would they keep knocking on the door until she woke up?

When they were level with the grumpy neighbour’s house, Pen took over from him, and together the two women took the remaining steps. Noting the light glowing faintly through the closed curtains, Lloyd’s hopes rose. At least it looked like Katie was at home.

Pen rang the doorbell, and the four of them waited.

Gina was thankful for one very important thing: that she had wrested control of this day. Had it been left to Charlie’s parents, heaven only knew what hellishness they’d have been in for. Actually, she knew perfectly well what they’d have been subjected to – an afternoon of shivering with cold and avoiding food as edible as old leather boots, only less flavoursome.

Whilst she may have managed to ensure that her granddaughter’s christening party wasn’t held at Wilton Park, there was no avoiding lunch there on Boxing Day in three weeks’ time. Already she was dreading it and planning how many layers of clothing she would have to wear to survive the icy draughts. But she would do it for Scarlet. And for her granddaughter. She would even put a smile on her face.

She scanned the sitting room, checking that everyone had something to eat and drink, that the waitresses from Elite Caterers were doing their job. Over on the other side of the room, next to the Christmas tree, she spotted Rosco and Laura talking to Cecily. Laura had won the old lady’s approval – the first of Rosco’s girlfriends to do so. More to the point, she was the first to gain Gina’s approval. She seemed to be good for Rosco. She appeared to challenge him, yet at the same time anchor him. Gina wouldn’t be at all surprised if the relationship became permanent. She had yet to meet Laura’s parents, but would do so over New Year at a drinks party in Pangbourne. Laura had described her family as being conventionally unconventional. A short while ago Gina might have raised an eyebrow at such a remark, but now she didn’t.

She continued to observe Rosco as he chatted with his grandmother. Gina couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her son look so relaxed. Or so happy. Which troubled her. It meant that he hadn’t really been happy before. Something had changed in him since he’d met Laura. But then they’d all changed since June. Since Neil’s death, nothing was the same. Even Cecily, who had always been the defining rock-solid constant within the family, had altered. She had aged more in the last few months than at any other time – she had far less energy and moved with increasing frailty. Gina might not have always seen eye to eye with the old lady, but she could accept that the family would be the poorer without her; she would be missed.

‘You okay, Mum?’

It was Scarlet.

Gina gave herself an exaggerated little shake. ‘I was miles away,’ she said. She absently picked off a white thread from the sleeve of Scarlet’s dress. ‘I was just thinking how happy Rosco looks.’

Scarlet smiled. ‘You mean he behaves like he’s almost human now. Laura’s done wonders with him. Plus he’s got what he’s always wanted.’

Gina frowned. ‘You don’t think it’s going to prove too much for him?’

‘Lord, no. He’ll love every minute of it.’

‘You’re probably right. Where’s the guest of honour?’

‘Still asleep upstairs; I’ve just been to check on her.’

‘A shame she’s missing her own party.’

‘She was exhausted. All that crying in church wore her out.’ Looking over to the Christmas tree, Scarlet said, ‘Thanks again for putting up the decorations. I know how you hate to do it too early. You’ve always had a thing about that.’

‘I think my first grandchild’s christening is a worthy exception to the rule, don’t you?’

Scarlet laughed. ‘Well, I’m going to grab myself something to eat before Lulu-May wakes up. Have you eaten? Knowing you, you haven’t, have you? Shall I put a plate together for you?’

‘I’ll get something in a moment.’

And there’s someone else who’s changed, thought Gina as she watched her daughter go. As unlikely as it was, Scarlet had at last grown up. Being a mother had been the making of her; it was as if finally she was the person she was always meant to be. During Scarlet’s pregnancy, there had been times when Gina had feared that her daughter would grow away from her after giving birth, but the reverse had happened: they had grown closer, as if bonded by motherhood.

Just as instantly and naturally as Scarlet had come to being a mother, so too had Gina taken to being a grandmother. The joy of having Louisa-May in her life – or Lulu-May, as Scarlet and Charlie now called her – could not have surprised Gina more. It was extraordinary how much she enjoyed bathing and dressing her granddaughter, rocking her to sleep, or simply trundling her round the garden in her peculiarly shaped pram. Unbelievably, she had turned into something she would never have imagined possible: a doting grandmother. She had goodness knows how many photographs of Louisa-May stored on her mobile phone, including a few short videos. She also had one of those small granny-boasting albums, which she carried around with her in her handbag, never missing an opportunity to show off her granddaughter.

She was also fiercely protective of Louisa-May, and couldn’t bear to see the slipshod and cavalier way Charlie’s mother treated her, as if she was nothing more than a puppy. There were times when Gina had to fight the urge to snatch Louisa-May out of Caroline’s coarse and careless hands. She never held the baby correctly, and as for hygiene, well, she didn’t have a clue. The woman saw nothing wrong in stroking her revolting slobbering dogs and then touching Louisa-May without washing her hands. And as for the ghastly nickname she had given her, Gina despaired. Really, how could anyone call such a beautiful and precious child Spud?

As if knowing Gina was thinking about her, Caroline chose that moment to approach. She was dressed in a horror of a tartan frock that was probably a size too small and made her stout body look stouter still. ‘Lovely do,’ she bellowed, her face flushed, the plate in her hand piled high. ‘Super nosh. But then you always serve up a first-rate feed. Where’s Spud?’

Gina recoiled within the silk and cashmere mix of her Karen Millen suit and fixed a smile on her face. ‘She’s upstairs having a nap. Do excuse me, Caroline, I must see about getting myself something to eat, I’m simply starving.’ As rude as it was, she hurried away.

Pen watched Gina move elegantly across the sitting room before coming to a stop to speak to one of the young waitresses. Funny to think that Katie had passed herself off here as a waitress for Cecily’s ninetieth birthday party. How things had changed since that appalling night. And how she still missed Neil, especially on a day like today. Well of course she did! What an absurd thought, as if she would ever stop missing him.