Written in the Stars (7 page)

‘I don’t think there’ll be many pakehas to talk to.’ She laid a hand on his arm to steady herself as she slipped on a pair of gilt sandals. Then she kissed him on the cheek. ‘Don’t wait up for me as I’ll be late.’

A few minutes later he heard her drive away from the house. As he showered, Steve wondered what she would do now that both of her girlfriends were out of jail. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He recalled Vince’s account of the events that led to the young women being arrested. Kirsty thought they might implicate her, but the police had not pressed charges. Whether she had been involved was still debatable, but at least their father’s connections had kept her out of trouble.

Did she intend to pick up where she left off? Steve was convinced that Hepora’s influence would tip the balance one way or other. And what about Joey Ruawhane, her old boyfriend? He was still in jail, and it would only be a matter of time before he was released as well. And then what?

Chapter Seven

Suzi gave a little gasp of delight as the plane began its descent to the Cypriot airport of Paphos. It was so different from what she expected. Although she had enjoyed many a holiday abroad over the years, she felt more excited about this one than she could ever remember. Mark made a fuss about claiming their baggage and then steered her towards the taxi rank.

‘Let’s hope the driver knows where he’s going,’ he remarked tersely.

Suzi placed a hand on his arm to slow his pace. ‘Calm down, Mark. We’re not in a desperate hurry.’

The friendly taxi driver spoke a strange form of English, but he made himself clear enough and soon put them both at ease. Within fifteen minutes they had cleared the airport precincts and were heading towards Latchi. The man appeared to be impressed when Suzi explained that they had chosen the tiny fishing village in preference to the larger town of Polis, and he agreed that it was a much more attractive place, and only five kilometres farther away.

‘All that stuff in brochure… ha, it mean no thing.’ He grinned disarmingly. ‘Big town spend big money, but they not better than small town.’ He pulled up outside the Plaka Hotel and jerked on the handbrake. ‘We are arrive,’ he announced, grandly, then added, ‘You enjoy.’

‘It looks nice,’ Suzi remarked, as they approached the reception desk.

They had chosen the hotel because the brochure stated it was set in extensive gardens and surrounded by breath-taking views of the countryside. The leaflet also assured them it was within easy walking distance of a little village called Neo Chorion, and only fifteen minutes from a picturesque fishing harbour and beach. A footnote proclaimed that it was an ideal place for nature lovers.

The receptionist confirmed their booking and handed them separate keys. Suzi had insisted on this arrangement, because she felt unable to commit herself for some reason, and saying she wanted separate rooms made it quite clear.

‘Enjoy your visit,’ she said, echoing the taxi driver’s words, and giving them a warm smile as they signed the register.

Their rooms were on opposite sides of the hotel. Suzi’s spacious apartment looked out over the bay, while Mark’s faced the swimming pool and courtyard. After she had unpacked her bag, she wandered downstairs to find him waiting in the bar. They whiled away the evening in the lounge talking to a number of guests who were leaving the next day, and Mark finally escorted her upstairs. Outside her bedroom door, ‘Pleasant dreams, Suzi,’ he whispered, lightly kissing her goodnight.

The next morning, they wandered over to the fishing village and poked around the harbour before having a meal in one of the fish taverns. The following day they strolled around the small, traditional agricultural town of Polis, and bought some souvenirs to take back to their staff. When they returned to the hotel, Suzi spent the afternoon having a sauna, massage and facial. The hotel receptionist tried hard to sell them a cruise trip on the boat Atalante, but neither felt enthusiastic about the idea so they declined.

‘We could pop up to Nicosia for a couple of days, if you like,’ Mark suggested. ‘How do you feel about that?’

‘No, I like it here. It’s peaceful in these tiny villages, and it’d be a pity to break the mood and go to a bustling city even for a day. They confined their activities to the local attractions most of the time, and Suzi was content just to laze by the pool, and enjoy the peaceful surroundings. It was all a stark contrast to the way she had spent the past eighteen months—finding and setting up the restaurant, and working virtually day and night to make it a success.

Their final evening there arrived. ‘Let’s dine at that little fish tavern by the harbour.’

‘Yes, let’s. Our first meal there was delicious.’ It was a beautiful evening, and they walked hand in hand along the beach, listening to the gentle slap of the waves on the sand. It seemed idyllic. It was as they stood looking out to sea, that Mark suddenly cradled her in his arms and sighed contentedly.

‘I’m glad we came here,’ he said, softly ‘I feel it’s done us the world of good.’ He brushed his lips against her hair, and gently cupped her breast. ‘I think it’s brought us closer together, too,’ he added.

Unwilling he had become intimate, Suzi stiffened, and turned sideways to ease his hand off her breast, and then moved away in case he tried to take his fondling farther.

‘It’s time we were getting back,’ she murmured, ‘I’ve still got to pack and I don’t want to be too late going to bed.’

The next morning they caught a taxi back to Paphos for the trip back home. Their plane descended through a layer of heavy, grey clouds and taxied up to the terminal in the pouring rain. The downpour eased long enough for them to get into Mark’s BMW, but then it continued until they crossed the bridge between England and Wales.

‘I’ll get the bags in while you brew us a nice pot of tea, Suzi.’ In a short time, they were seated comfortably and enjoying the drink, both obviously trying to avoid talking about The Stow Restaurant. But it was a dismal failure. It was time to get back to work. Suzi brewed another pot of tea, while Mark phoned a few suppliers to remind them that the restaurant would reopen in two days.

After spending so much time in Mark’s company, Suzi felt quite relieved when he finally left, leaving her free to please herself about what she did and when. She lifted the phone and rang Charlize, chatting happily for an hour before she hung up. More relaxed now, she flopped onto the squashy sofa in front of the fire and stared into the flames as if expecting to find an answer to the barrage of questions that tumbled around in her mind. What should she do about Mark? Charlize had just made it clear that she agreed with Suzi’s decision not to become too involved with him, and that was a gentle reminder of her own original concerns about Mark. Caution was needed where he was concerned.

However, his unobtrusive approach had almost undermined her determination to keep him at arm’s length. She had been disturbed at his attempt to caress her on the beach, but he had not taken exception to her gentle rebuff. It was then that memories of Steve flooded her mind, and how ready she was to accept his caresses. She continued to stare absentmindedly into the fire, remembering their lovemaking and the depth of feeling he had generated in her. Once again she was tempted to contact him, but common sense prevailed and she decided to leave things as they were.

Sorting through the mail, Suzi found a letter from Mr Duncan. She opened it eagerly and scanned it quickly the first time. It informed her that both she and the other claimant, a Mr Steven William Pardoe, of New Zealand, had equal rights to the Caxton Manor estate. Suzi’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief as she read the words. Steven Pardoe. Steve?

‘But, he didn’t say…’ Her strangled words stuck in her throat. She could feel her face flush at the news. When he arrived in the country, had Steve Pardoe already been aware that she had filed a claim to Bartholomew Armitage’s estate? If so, why hadn’t he said something when they first met? Had he deliberately kept quiet about it?

She recalled his account of how he had noticed the wrought iron gates of the manor were ajar, and saw the securing chains lying on the ground, which made him decide to investigate. However, he had not mentioned he was there because he had a vested interest in the place.

A wave of resentment swept over her, only to be replaced by a feeling of remorse. Fully aware she had said nothing of her interest either, she realised it was tit for tat. She hadn’t been frank about her visit to the old house, either. Then she recalled the solicitor’s off-hand rejoinder about another claimant. Maybe he hadn’t informed Steve that there was anyone else involved at that time. Even if he had, the solicitor would have kept them both ignorant of each other’s identity.

‘Oh, Steve,’ she murmured, staring blankly at the letter on the floor. ‘If I’d only known.’ But ‘If only’ seemed out of place now as conflicting thoughts continued to run through her mind. She had to decide what to do about the situation. It would be stupid to declare her love for him, and rather silly to ask him to come back and live with her in the house. She raised her brows at the boldness of her thoughts.
What was she thinking
?

Still, even though he had made it clear he wasn’t married, he had intimated he was committed to someone in New Zealand. ‘He must love her, or he wouldn’t have left me and gone back to her,’ she murmured, tearfully. ‘He must have realised he had a choice, so that’s that.’ Her mind flew back. At no time did he declare his love for her, and she had not used the word love either. She recalled what he really had said: ‘You’ve touched something deep inside me, Suzi Lysle Spencer.’ Those words were still ringing in her head. It had been a lovely way to express what he felt, but it was ambiguous, and that was it, beginning and end. Oddly enough, that was exactly how she felt as well.

She picked up the letter and continued to read the rest of the contents.

When you were informed that there was another claimant
,
you intimated that you might be prepared to buy that other person’s share
.
Do you wish me to convey that offer to Mr Pardoe
?
Should he agree to your proposal
,
it will be necessary to have the property evaluated to fix a price
.

There was a bit about his intention to make sure it was settled amicably, and so on, but it was just so much claptrap as far as she was concerned.

‘Stupid, that’s what I was to say such a thing. I don’t have enough money to even buy the front door, let alone a whole half of the house. Real stupid,’ she muttered as she sat down and carefully considered the situation.
Could there be a way to do it
?
Of course he might not want to sell
.
What then
? She bit her lip; she didn’t want to lose the house she loved, but she couldn’t see any way to afford to hang on to it either. It was an impasse.

Suddenly, Suzi jerked into life as an idea popped into her head. Maybe he would allow her to develop it into a business. Surely they could work out something between them; a lease, a share in the profits, or whatever? But even as the thought took root in her mind, she dismissed it, for that would mean taking out a bigger mortgage to pay for alterations, and she couldn’t expect Steve to agree to that. After all why should he jeopardize his share of the property?

As another tear rolled slowly down her cheek, she sat feeling forlorn and dejected. She did not want to see the lovely old house sold off to a complete stranger. Surely she could do something? She thought, racking her brains. At least, maybe she could talk to Steve about the situation. She reached for the phone and then gave a bitter little laugh as she gave herself some sound advice. ‘I don’t think that’s a real good idea either.’

Unwilling to dwell on the upsetting letter she turned on the television and began surfing the programs. A documentary on New Zealand caught her attention and she watched the whole program. When it finished, Suzi ran a hot bath and then made her way to bed. She would phone Duncan first thing in the morning, and find out what could be done about the situation.

Her dreams were full of conflicting scenes in which Steve played a pivotal role. First of all he would gather her into his arms, declare his undying love, and then carry her up the sweeping staircase of Caxton Manor to consummate their love in the antique four-poster bed. In the next dream he would stand at the front door, brandishing a gnarled walking stick and warning her never to set foot in the house again. She woke up during the night in a sweat and feeling quite exhausted.

*

When Kirsty finally returned home late Sunday afternoon, she was carrying her pretty sandals, with a heel missing on one of them. Her hair was piled up and tied with string, and her garish red blouse had been replaced by a tee shirt with a rather obscene picture on the back. On top of that, she looked as if she hadn’t slept the whole weekend.

Steve was about to remonstrate with her when Norah intervened

‘I’ll see to her.’ She pushed him away gently. ‘You take Vince down the club for a drink.’ By the time they had returned, Kirsty was fast asleep in her bedroom.

‘Just leave things be,’ Norah counselled Steve, as they sat around after dinner. ‘I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow.’

‘I was hoping that she wouldn’t take up with that crowd again.’ Vince’s voice was tinged with sadness. ‘She promised me faithfully, but I suppose it was only because I managed to keep her name out of things.’ He sighed deeply. ‘At least they didn’t implicate her in the crime, otherwise she’d have been put away too.’

‘Why didn’t you stop her associating with them?’ Steve looked directly at his father. ‘Surely you must have known what she was doing.’

Vince sighed deeply again and shook his head. ‘Easier said than done. Maybe if you’d been home at the time it would have been different. You might have been able to keep an eye on her… who knows?’

‘We didn’t take too much notice of it at first,’ Norah continued, when Vince paused. ‘We thought she’d get it out of her system as she grew older. The trouble is we don’t understand how she thinks.’ She stopped and spread her hands out wide. ‘She’s a Maori, and their culture is poles apart from ours.’

‘But you knew that when you adopted her.’

‘Yes, but we thought that if she was raised with a white family she would adapt to our lifestyle.’ When Norah began to weep softly Vince took up the narrative.