Written in the Stars (21 page)

She slipped into a pair of cotton pyjamas and sat on the side of the bed. There were strange sounds all around her. She listened carefully, but it was no more than the old house creaking as it settled at the end of the day. Her thoughts slipped back to the time when she had stayed there overnight with her mother when she was a small child. The same sort of sounds had really frightened her then. They had been guests of Uncle Bart at the time, and he had insisted they should stay with him until her mother found a suitable home in Cardiff.

Unable to sleep, she made her way over to the window and peered out onto the silent garden. A lone fox stood in the centre of the lawn, and within seconds another appeared, slipping through the hedge like a wraith. The first one waited until the new arrival sniffed its tail and then cavorted across the grass. Suzi gave a little cry of delight as a third one appeared from nowhere. They began tumbling around, then chasing each other around the lawn, but in two minutes, they had gone. Suzi wanted to see more of their antics, but there was no sign of them anywhere; they had melted way like shadows in the night, and all was still and quiet again in the now deserted garden.

After she had climbed back into bed, her thoughts returned to her brush with death on the Whitsunday Coast. She vividly recalled floating in the pale green waters and staring up at the sunlit surface and seeing something strange. When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were full of strange men trying to rescue her from drowning in the sea. As each one reached out to catch hold of her, Suzi looked into their faces, and then eluded their grasp when she did not recognise the person. All the while she sank deeper and deeper into the murky depths. Then, just as her lungs felt as if they would burst, a hand pulled her clear of the water. At that moment the old house creaked again and snapped her awake.

Distressed by the dream, Suzi slipped into a dressing gown and made her way down to the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate. She laced it with a generous measure of whiskey and crawled back into bed. It was only minutes later that she snuggled down under the covers again, and fell asleep.

Everything seemed different in the morning light. The sunshine added an extra dimension to her joy as she began to rearrange the house. She looked out of the front window just as the gardener arrived. He seemed rather surprised to see her, but expressed his satisfaction that she had moved into the place, all-be-it temporarily.

‘It’s not good to leave an old house like this empty,’ he said, knowingly. ‘They deteriorate quickly if they’re not lived-in.’ When the lawnmower coughed to a stop she called out to him. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ He smiled and gave a thumbs up sign. As she handed him the mug, Suzi made what she thought was an off-hand comment about some overgrown shrubs. The elderly man looked at over the top of his mug.

‘I’ve only been asked to cut the grass.’

‘Well, can you tidy the place a bit?’

‘Aye, just tell me what you want done.

The man, who asked to be called Aub, seemed pleased to be offered the opportunity to restore the gardens to something like their former glory. He also agreed to do some odd jobs in the house as well.

Mark seemed more than pleased to see her when she turned up at the restaurant the following day. He had evidently given some thought to her comments about misusing the business account, and although he did not exactly apologize, he was subdued.

‘Charlize and Lloyd are getting married, soon, Mark,’ Suzi said, and waited for his reaction.

His mouth dropped open with surprise.

‘I thought you were just having me on when you said she’d fallen in love, but… but married? Wow. It’s hard to believe. Pretty fast wasn’t it?’ He twiddled with the ladle he was holding. ‘How do you feel about it?’

‘I’m happy for her, but not for myself… to be honest, I’ll miss her dreadfully.’

‘Will you go to New Zealand for the wedding?’

Suzi shook her head.

‘I don’t think so. It’s so far away.’

‘I’m sure we can work something out if you want to go.’

‘It’ll be in the middle of our busiest time. I doubt if Narelle would be able to cope with the pressure, and I rather fancy she wouldn’t even want to try. No, I’d rather stay here and make sure everything’s under control.’ Then she turned her full attention on Mark, and her voice was unmistakably sharp. ‘I want to know… are you going to continue with this betting business?’

Mark looked taken aback and hesitated before answering.

‘I know it doesn’t sound very practical, but Gary’s done very well out of it, and I’m nearly five thousand pounds in front at the moment.’

‘Then why don’t you quit and concentrate on finding some other means to augment your income?’ Suzi looked fixedly into his eyes. ‘Spending hours poring over bits of paper is not the best way to make money in my opinion. You could put that effort into promoting The Stow Restaurant. We could try some mail shots, aimed at the commercial sector to attract them to the place.’

‘Yes, you could be right,’ Mark agreed, reluctantly. ‘We’ll talk about it this afternoon, if that’s all right by you.’

Gary breezed in after lunch to regale Mark with stories of his latest female conquests. The two men laughed and joked about his exploits until Suzi poked her head into the kitchen to ask if Mark was ready to discuss the mail shot. Gary did not take her broad hint and go, but settled himself even more comfortably on a stool and unfolded the latest racing newspaper.

‘Dewline is the one to watch,’ he said, tapping the paper. ‘She won’t win this one, but she should win on her next outing.’

‘I thought she looked a certainty today,’ Mark said, quietly. ‘I hope you’re wrong, because I’ve backed her with nearly everything I have… five thousand pounds.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, Mark,’ Gary said, climbing to his feet with a superior look on his face. ‘But I think you’ve had it. You’ll lose your money, for sure.’

Mark’s colour sudden drained from his ruddy complexion, but he seemed to pull himself together. As soon as Gary left, he made two cups of coffee and carried them into the dining room. He looked around for Suzi. But she was nowhere to be seen. A note propped against the vase on the table contained her message:

Maybe you can find time to talk about more important matters than horses tomorrow
.

Chapter Twenty Five

Oh
,
and
…
Dewline has dropped out of contention as the field enters the final furlong
and
… The race commentator’s words continued even though Mark had stopped listening. His face suddenly flushed as the blood rushed to his head, pounding against his skull to suddenly give him the king of all headaches. He sank down onto a stool and stared at the squawking transistor radio in disbelief—five thousand pounds—lost in a matter of minutes.

‘Oh, my God,’ he murmured, trying to console himself with the thought that it did not really matter. After all, he had accumulated the money by winning other races, but he felt cheated. It had taken weeks of carefully selected bets to build up the bank and now it was gone—five thousand pounds, just about everything he had. All gone.

Gary had claimed the horse wasn’t ready. Better to wait until its next outing, he had said, and reinforced his argument by pointing to the odds. They were far too high for a racehorse of that calibre. The bookies knew it couldn’t win, and that was why the price had drifted out to double figures. Unfortunately Mark was unaware of that fact when he placed the bet. Five thousand pounds: the words tumbled around his head over and over again.

He was still reeling from the loss when Suzi arrived half an hour later to prepare for the dinner guests. She acknowledged his greeting, but refused to be drawn into conversation. An uneasy silence permeated the place until the first guests arrived, but it was very plain that she was still angry with him.

‘Shall we have a drink after work?’ he asked, almost sheepishly.

‘No, I’ve made other arrangements,’ she replied, frostily.

When Gary poked his head into the kitchen the following day, Mark was busy preparing for the evening meal. He paused, meat chopper in hand, and was about to say something, but his friend spoke first.

‘I was half tempted to place something on Dewline after all, but changed my mind when I saw which way the market was going. It looked good on paper, but that’s all, and…’ As soon as he saw the anguished expression on Mark’s face, he stopped. ‘I warned you, Mark, didn’t I? Too late was I? Don’t tell me you backed it heavily.’

‘I put my bank on it. I’m all but wiped out now.’

‘Aw… don’t worry, you’ll pick it up again.’ Gary perched on the nearest stool. ‘I’ve lost everything two or three times in the past. It’s nothing to worry about. We all make mistakes.’

Mark vetoed Gary’s suggestion to slip across the road for a drink, because there was still a lot of preparation to do and he didn’t want to antagonise Suzi again. If she came in early and found him in the pub with Gary, it would certainly not go down well.

The atmosphere between himself and Suzi remained cool. She explained that there was a lot of tidying and cleaning to do at the manor, and she wanted to make sure it was done properly. She arranged for Narelle to take care of the luncheon guests two days later so that she could drive Charlize to the airport. When she returned, her eyes were red and puffy and she kept to herself for the remainder of the day.

Mark had also been surprised when Charlize decided to accompany Lloyd back to New Zealand. She had quit her job, sold her car and somehow or other managed to extricate herself from a lease—and just packed her bags, and gone. Suzi had been left in a state of shock for the best part of a week, and was still trying to come to terms with her loss. However she had steadfastly refused to any but the most superficial comfort from Mark. It was as if she did not trust him anymore.

Determined not to give up his quest to make money backing the horses, Mark continued to trawl through the racing section of the newspapers. However, most of the likely winners were either being rested or in training for events later in the season, so he was in a bit of a quandary. When DewLine was listed as a starter in another race three weeks later, he looked for something to beat it again. The horse he picked did not fully satisfy the criteria, but he placed his bet anyway. His choice hung in at the last moment. But—it was beaten by the horse he should have backed—DewLine.

‘Well, that’s it, I’m broke,’ he muttered, switching off the radio. ‘Everything’s gone wrong.’

However, Gary’s earlier successes still goaded him on, driving him back to his notes yet again. The next likely winner came a week later, but he had no spare money because he had just paid to have some work done on his car, so he had to bypass the bet. Mark wondered if he could raise a bank loan, but they had already financed the purchase of the car, and besides it would take too long. He looked enviously at the joint account again, but his relationship with Suzi was still strained, and he dared not risk her wrath at this stage.

He was tempted to phone his father to ask for a loan, but Ben would have wanted to know why he wanted the money, and would have refused his request out of hand. Then he remembered that Gary had given him the name of a person who would lend money on a short-term basis. He dug out the slip of paper and rang the number.

‘Why don’t you come over and we’ll talk about it,’ the man said, in almost genteel tones. ‘I’m sure Gary Hyland wouldn’t have given you my name if he didn’t know you well enough, but I like to meet the people I do business with.’ He gave Mark an address. ‘About four o’clock? Will that be suitable?’

Jonathan Wilcox lived in a luxurious house overlooking the River Severn. He explained that he conducted most of his business from home since the advent of computer networking. After he had questioned Mark about his relationship with Gary, and his connection with The Stow Restaurant, he enquired why he wanted to borrow a thousand pounds.

Mark hesitated and then decided that it would probably be better to tell the truth.

‘Gary has shared his winning formula with me, and I’m in an awkward situation at the moment, what with heavy repair bills for the car, and so on.’

‘I’ll need to satisfy myself that your credentials are bona fide,’ Jonathan Wilcox said, in a restrained tone of voice. ‘I’m an investor, and so I must be sure my investment is not only secure, but will return me a dividend.’ He stood up and shook Mark’s hand. ‘Ring me in a few days.’

When Mark phoned, the man’s secretary took his particulars and said that she would inform Mr Wilcox of his call. She phoned back about an hour later and said that the money, five hundred pounds, would be deposited in his bank account. Then she gave him particulars about how he should repay the loan.

Mark spent even more time than usual checking and rechecking his figures to ensure he had picked a winning horse. He listened to the race with bated breath, and gave a sigh of relief when it galloped home clear of the field. After he had repaid the loan, Mark had more than enough to invest in his next choice. Once again he took a great deal of effort to ensure that his horse was the right one.

‘You little beauty,’ Mark yelled, as his choice scattered the field and romped home. Attracted by his exuberant shout, Suzi poked her head around the kitchen door. Unable to contain his excitement, Mark blurted out. ‘That’s another one home and hosed.’

‘I’m not one bit interested,’ she said, curtly. ‘I think you’re being very foolish.’

His next two choices were not so lucky, and once again he found himself without sufficient funds to bet. Once again he phoned Jonathan Wilcox. His secretary repeated her previous message when he phoned to enquire if he could obtain another loan. An hour later she returned his call. ‘The money has been deposited in your bank account.’

The horse lost, so he borrowed more money to try to recuperate his losses.

‘Oh, my God,’ he groaned, as the next horse was pipped on the post. ‘What do I do now?’

He knew that he dared not ask Suzi if he could use some of their capital to service the loan, and he was equally averse to contacting his father. For two days he sweated it out, wondering what to do. Then on the third day, two burly well-dressed men walked into restaurant.

‘Are you Mark Brinstead?’ one of them asked, ignoring Suzi’s polite greeting. When he said yes, the man continued. ‘Mr Wilcox said to remind you that he hasn’t received his dividend yet.’

Mark swallowed hard and then croaked, ‘I can explain.’

The man seemed not to hear him, but just rocked gently on the balls of his feet. Punching his balled fist into his hand, he gazed around the dining room. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’ The smile on his face was hard and cold. ‘Mr Wilcox doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Do we make ourselves clear?’

After they went, Suzi demanded to know what they wanted. ‘Who’s this Mr Wilcox? And what’s all this about a dividend?’

Mark looked at her for a long time without speaking. Then he muttered something about it being nothing to worry about, and went back into the kitchen. It was only the opportune arrival of a delivery van that stopped Suzi questioning him further. By the time he had stacked the food away, she was gone. He sank down onto a chair and buried his thumping head in his hands.

‘Oh, my God, what am I going to do now?’

*

‘It’s for you, Steve,’ Norah said, handing him the telephone. ‘Someone with a lovely Scots accent.’

That can only be one person, Steve thought.

‘Hello, Jenny, it’s nice to hear your voice,’ he said, when she had identified herself. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m sharing a flat at Greylynne with a girlfriend,’ she replied. ‘I wanted to settle in before I phoned you.’ She paused as if waiting for Steve to speak, and then continued. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, because you hadn’t replied to my letter.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Steve said, ‘I meant to write, but what with one thing and another I never got around to it.’ He paused and then continued. ‘Kirsty’s death was a great shock and it’s taken some time for us all to pick up the pieces. I’ve needed a while to get over it.’ Then he told her about his trip to north Queensland, and the freak accident that he was convinced had brought him into a brief contact with Suzi again. ‘It was rather odd that our lives should overlap like that.’

‘And now?’

‘I don’t know. I’m thinking of buying a place of my own somewhere, but it’s just a thought at the moment.’

‘Has anyone else staked a claim to your heart?’

Steve stared into the middle distance for a long moment before answering. ‘What do you mean? Am I free? Do I want to get involved with you?’ As he hesitated the memory of their previous encounter flooded back. Her sexuality had overshadowed everything else, and his response to her implicit invitation had caused him a great deal of anxiety. Did he want to form a relationship on that basis? Finally, he broke the silence. ‘Let’s have a drink together and we can take things from there, okay?’

When they met two days later, Steve felt his pulse quicken. The sensuality that Jenny projected seemed to permeate the space around her and reach out to everyone in the room. Other men eyed her appreciatively as she walked to the bar where they had agreed to meet.

She kissed his cheek.

‘Hi, there,’ she breathed seductively.

‘Hello, Jenny,’ he said, returning her kiss. ‘You’re looking very well.’ He led the way to a quiet corner of the room. ‘How’s the new job? Have you settled in okay?’

‘Yes, it’s great; better than I expected, actually.’ Then she told him that she had run into an old school friend from Invarcargill shortly after arriving at Auckland, and had been invited to share a flat. ‘It’s quite roomy.’ She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. ‘We’ve worked out a system so that we don’t surprise one another at a… in a delicate situation.’

By the time they had finished their second drink, they had shared most of their news and the conversation was flagging. Jenny grasped his hand.

‘I was hoping,’ she began, and then stopped as she felt Steve stiffen.

‘Jenny, I don’t feel as if I’m ready to become involved with anyone at the moment. Kirsty’s death has had a profound effect on me; far more than I expected, and I need to time to reassess my feelings.’ He paused for a moment and then gave a little laugh. ‘You’re very attractive and the thought of tumbling you into bed is very appealing, but…’

‘But?’

‘I’ve had my fair share of playing around, and I don’t want to start a relationship based on sex.’

‘I was hoping it would go further than that,’ Jenny said, softly.

Steve stared into his empty glass for a long minute before answering.

‘I don’t feel as if I could make that type of commitment. I’d enjoy a physical relationship with you, but like I’ve already said, it’s not what I’m looking for right now.’

‘Oh.’ She looked at her empty glass. ‘Shall we have another?’ When he shook his head she picked up her bag and climbed to her feet, and then forced a smile on her face. ‘Take care, now.’

Steve watched her walk away and wondered why he had been so definite about things. After all she was more than an attractive young woman; she was a very sensual person, and he could have enjoyed an intimate relationship with her. Maybe he should have taken her out a few times before saying no. Then he laughed softly as he thought of something: ‘Stick your finger in the honey pot, and you’ll keep going back for more.’

He related the encounter to Norah when he returned home.

‘I think you were wise,’ she said, quietly. ‘You might have had trouble extricating yourself later on.’ Then she changed the subject. ‘What are you going to do with your shares? Are you going to hang on to them or sell them?’