The Summer Without You (43 page)

‘No. You stay looking. We can’t afford to lose our lead. I’ll bring them over.’

Ro rolled her eyes at his competitiveness, but knew she was no better. ‘Well, you’d better give me the flag, then. We can’t have that lot out there picking up on our
clues.’

‘You’re right,’ he winked, handing it over and sauntering off.

She ambled at a snail’s pace, not wanting to leave him behind, even though the path had one main artery, with the only tributaries short and leading to occasional nooks for the sculptures.
She soon came to one, a circular spot with a magnificent red rose planted in the middle and a life-size military figure set into a niche in the wall at the back.

History books? That had to be it. She ran her hands over and around the statue, searching keenly for anything that stood out. It should have been relatively easy. Everything was so perfectly
maintained and in order that anything rogue or stray would flash like a beacon. But there was nothing.

She planted her hands on her hips and exhaled in concentration, the clue running over in her mind:
The final one. Don’t be undone, By the boastful looks of history books.

‘“
Don’t be undone
,”’ she murmured, looking up at the bronze general. ‘So then it’s saying that it’s
not
on him.’ She looked
down at the flag again, trying to do free-association as she turned slowly on the spot: ‘Stars . . . stripes . . . spangles . . . glory . . . military glory . . . wars: civil,
Independe—’

Ted Connor was standing by the entrance to the nook, watching her. Fear rippled through her like a sonic pulse to find herself alone with him in this remote spot.

‘Hi,’ he smiled, his voice benign, though she found his position aggressive – did he know he was blocking her exit? Was it deliberate?

‘Hi.’ She crossed her arms over herself, a defensive posture that, unfortunately, only deepened her cleavage. She saw his eyes just barely follow the movement and quickly dropped her
arms.

‘How are you?’

‘Fine. I’m fine.’

‘I’ve been meaning to drop by the studio and see how you’re getting on with everything, but I’ve been rather overtaken by events recently.’

She bet he had. ‘There’s no need. Everything’s fine. I’m almost done editing the films now and I’m starting on the stills next week.’

He smiled. ‘Good luck with that. There are thousands. We were trigger-happy to say the least.’

His words sent a shiver down her.
Were.
Past tense. Gone. Dismissed. Forced to make way . . . Ro’s eyes scanned for Julianne, knowing she must be near. But there was no sign of
her.

He saw her look around for Julianne. ‘She’s making a call.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded, unsure what to say next. It was too much to stand here making small talk with him knowing they were both talking in riddles. She’d never been a good liar. Did
he sense her suspicions about him? Had he seen it across the lawn earlier? He knew she was close to Florence too; he must have known they’d talked. ‘Are you . . . um, doing the treasure
hunt?’ she asked, wishing Hump would hurry back.

‘Yes. Although it looks like you’ve beaten us to it.’

‘No, no, I’m not doing it,’ she said, seeing her opportunity to get away. ‘We couldn’t afford to play. I’d better leave you to—’

‘Wait.’ He side-stepped in front of her, blocking her path directly. There was nothing accidental about his positioning now. ‘Is it just my imagination or are you always trying
to escape me?’

Escape?
Odd choice of word.

‘No.’ She shook her head, knowing full well that she blushed when she lied and having to resist the urge to put her hand to her cheek to check. ‘I just need to get back to
Hump.’

She moved to step past him, but although he wasn’t touching her, his hands by his sides, she couldn’t get past without squeezing herself against him, and that was
not
going to
happen.

‘Rowena . . .’

She swallowed, refusing to look at him. He was too close. Far too close.

‘I just wanted to . . .’ She felt his hand hover above her arm, not touching, but able to feel the charge of his body against hers, like magnetic north to south.

‘How’s Florence?’ she blurted out. ‘Have you seen her recently?’

The words fell like tiles on the ground between them as she watched his response.

‘Uh, yes. Yes, I saw her earlier, actually.’

‘Really?’ Ro inclined her head a little, trying to come across as surprised.

‘She asked me to be with her when the police came to report the conclusions of their investigation with her.’

‘What? You mean they’ve finished already?’

He nodded.

‘And?’

He put a hand in his trouser pocket and leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving her.

Another house on the street had work done recently and they think it happened then. Her wiring system was over thirty years old and there were none of the safety cut-outs you’d need now.
But Florence has still been advised to get a good lawyer. She’ll be due millions in a civil lawsuit.’

Ro’s heart was beating double time. ‘But . . . she’s convinced it was cut.’

‘And it was. Just accidentally. There’s no criminal case to answer.’

Ro looked away, feeling winded by the update. She had believed Florence that day on the bench. Everything she said had seemed plausible, and Florence had been coherent and calm.

‘Don’t worry, Ro – she’ll get justice. This episode won’t go unpunished. Florence is going to be a very rich woman after this.’

Ro looked back at him, seeing the picture beginning to emerge now, like an image onto film. The lawsuit.

He looked at the ground briefly. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look very beautiful tonight.’

‘What?’ Was this the charm, the flattery that ran rings round Florence? She looked up in surprise, his eyes catching hers like a pinned butterfly, and what she saw – fear ran
through her, fast and cold. All her worst thoughts reflected back at her, right there . . .

‘Oh! Sorry!’

Ted stepped back smartly at the voice, revealing Hump standing behind them, no glasses in his hands.

‘Hump!’ Ro’s relief rang out like a bell between them all, prompting Ted to glance back at her.

Hump picked up on it too, stepping more confidently into their circle now, protective as ever. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything . . .’ His eyes slid between Ted and Ro,
resting on Ro.

‘No, no. I was just coming to find you, actually,’ Ro said quickly, almost wanting to cry with relief. She looked pointedly at Ted. ‘The bracelet’s in the
rosebush.’

‘What?’ Ted asked, astonished, looking over at the full-flowering red rosebush in the middle of the nook.

‘“
See the roots for what they are. This story started from afar
.” This is a rose, the symbol of England. The American War of Independence fought for separation from
England . . . hence the flag,’ she said in a manic rush, the words falling over each other as she tried to look calm in front of them both. ‘Hump, where are our drinks?’ she
asked, posting an innocently curious expression on her face.

‘We’ve got a small problem.’ Hump shook his head forbiddingly.

‘What sort of problem?’

He looked across at Ted quickly, but it wasn’t him Ted was watching. ‘Just come with me.’

Ro turned back to Ted, more confident now that Hump was here. ‘Well, bye, then,’ she said.

‘Bye,’ Ted said quietly, his hands in his pockets, his eyes steady upon her, discerning the obvious upbeat change in her behaviour.

She took Hump’s hand as he led her up the path, taking three strides to his one. She kept her chin high, refusing to look like she was running away, knowing – absolutely knowing
– Ted was watching her the whole way. Because it wasn’t charm that she’d felt between them in that last moment alone together. It had been far more dangerous than that.

‘Hump, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ she hissed, as soon as they were out of sight, struggling to keep up with his fast pace in her wedges as
they crossed the lawn and jogged up the steps towards the house.

Hump, who’d been keeping a polite ‘nothing to see here’ smile on his face, looked across at her. ‘He’s in here,’ he said, striding through the French doors
and into a gracious drawing room decorated in salmon-pink and pistachio tones.

‘Who, Hump? Who?’ she asked, dodging bullion-fringed ottomans and Victorian side tables.

He pushed open a door and Ro gasped to see Greg slumped on the floor, his arm resting on the loo, his head lolling on his chest.

‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’ she whispered, running in and crouching down in front of her housemate. He was barely conscious. ‘He was fine half an hour ago.’

‘That was before he necked a bottle of vodka.’ He pointed to the empty bottle beside Greg’s legs.

‘
What?
But why?’ Ro mouth hung open in surprise. ‘Greg, wake up. Can you hear me?’

‘He’s out of it. We need to get him to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. That level of spirits could give him alcohol poisoning.’

‘Oh God, Greg, what have you done?’ she whispered, cupping his handsome, catatonic face with her hand.

‘Ro, we need to get him out of here ASAP – and discreetly. His career will be destroyed if this gets out. Half the people here are clients or industry benefactors. I need you to get
the car brought round to the front doors. Can you divert the valets?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she replied without thinking. How? How was she going to do that?

‘Good.’ He handed her the valet ticket. ‘Be quick. He’s a dead weight like this. I can’t hang around once I’ve got him on my shoulders. OK?’

Ro nodded nervously. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. See you in two minutes.’

‘Don’t run. You don’t want to attract anyone’s attention.’

‘Right.’ Gripping the ticket firmly in her fist, Ro slipped out of the bathroom, checking the hallway was clear. It was. Everyone was outside, including the staff, who were rushed
off their feet.

She crossed the gleaming parquet floor, her sequins rustling lightly from her hurried movements. She didn’t have time to notice the blowsy floral arrangements of old roses and sweet peas,
or the silver Tiffany photo frames that housed black-and-white snapshots of an idyllic life shared over several generations. All she was focusing on were the enormous front doors, which were at
least ten feet high and double width, and which she hoped weren’t locked.

They weren’t and she opened them soundlessly, trotting down the steps and turning right towards the side garden path they’d entered by and to where the valets’ booth was set
up. There were five of them in there, leaning and playing on iPads, enjoying their lull before guests began leaving again in a couple of hours or so.

She gave a tight smile as she handed over the ticket and waited for one of them to bring the Defender round from the adjoining paddock, her eyes flicking back restlessly towards the house. How
was she going to help Hump get Greg in the car without the valets seeing? He was one of the hosts and too conspicuous tonight to be seen in this state by anyone. This couldn’t get back to
Erin or Todd.

She heard the Humper long before she saw it and twitched restlessly, sure she was going to let down Hump and Greg. What could she do? What could she do?

‘Cool car, ma’am,’ the valet said, as he jumped out, leaving the engine running. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen.

From the corner of her eye, Ro saw the front door beginning to open.

Out of time!

‘No!’ she shrieked loudly, and the front door’s progress halted. The valets jumped. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, adopting her poshest British accent and trying
to sound like the queen. An imperial attitude might be an asset right now.

‘What, ma’am?’

She pointed towards the paddock just beyond the trees. ‘Is that
kids
messing about in there? Don’t they know the value of the cars? You do have security in there, don’t
you?’

All five valets bucked up, straining to lean over the booth counter and make out what she was pointing at.

‘Surely you can see them? They’re
right there.
’ She jabbed her finger with annoyance.

The valets clustered out of the booth, not wanting to contradict her, but clearly there was nothing to see.

‘Oh, good God, don’t say they’re . . .’ She frowned and looked at the nineteen-year-old. ‘You have insurance, I take it?’

‘Why, ma’am?’ He looked terrified.

‘Well, they’re plainly keying the cars.’

‘Mother fuckers!’ one of the valets cried, forgetting he was in the presence of a customer. ‘Come on!’

‘They’re behind the navy Maserati,’ she cried after them, as they all raced across the drive, vaulting the white post-and-rail fencing into the paddock. ‘Quick!
Now!’ she hissed to Hump, who had overheard her diversion and stood back from view from the open door.

She watched as Hump staggered down the steps, clearly straining to carry the full weight of his semi-conscious friend on his shoulders. A small step by the back door was just low enough that she
could climb up in her dress and stand in the cab, taking the weight of Greg’s head and upper body as Hump gracelessly flopped him forwards, like a badly tossed caber, onto one of the bench
seats.

‘You hold on to him. Make sure he stays on his side. If he starts throwing up, he’ll choke.’

‘Oh God,’ she muttered, steadying Greg by the shoulder as Hump jumped into the driver’s cab and pulled away in second gear, sending a spray of gravel onto the rose beds and
mullioned windows. They hurtled down the drive as Ro saw the valets peering beneath and around the cars in the paddock, their arms outstretched in confusion.

‘Is he all right?’ Hump shouted over his shoulder. With the sound of the gravel and the engine, it was hard to be heard. Shouting was the only option.

‘Yes! Did anyone see you in the house?’

‘No! Don’t think so!’

They pulled out of the gates at the bottom and Hump went through all the gears again, Ro keeping her hand on Greg’s arm to steady him from the movement.