Shane had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, since her childhood. She had become conscious of him when she was four and he was eight, and had tagged along after him.
One summer afternoon, Shane had told her he had a wonderful idea. He said she was to become Queen Boadicea, and he would be her consort, her lord. ‘But we have to look right,’ Shane had confided. ‘How should we look?’ she had asked him, her violet eyes full of love and pride at being his friend even then. ‘We have to be blue,’ the eight-year-old boy had explained. And had then proceeded to paint her blue all over, after he had undressed her. She had insisted on keeping her knickers on, being a modest child. And later Emma had been thankful she had. At least some pores had been allowed to breathe, and so she had stayed alive. Somehow, Shane had coaxed her into painting him blue to match, and there was hell to pay when Blackie came over at Emma’s request to chastise his grandson. ‘Young scallywag,’ Blackie had pronounced.
Remembering all this, Paula smiled, thinking of the turpentine baths Emma and Blackie had given them…worse than any thrashing.
Blue,
she thought, seeing in her mind’s eye her lovely blue marbles which Shane had managed to lose. He had presented her with some new ones but they weren’t as nice, and she had been put out with him for a long time.
And then one day, when they were grown up, he had given her a small leather box, and when she had opened it she had been entranced by the sapphire earrings inside.
Leaning down, kissing her, Shane had said, ‘I hope these will now satisfy you…they are in place of those blue marbles I lost when you were all of six.’
And one day much later she had married Shane.
Yes, life
is
strange, she thought again. They had grown up together, had been inseparable even as teenagers, and then he had gone off to boarding school, later university, and she had seen less of him.
And she had met Jim Fairley, who worked for Emma, and they had fallen in love. Or so she thought. She had married Jim, had had the twins, Tessa and Lorne.
Shane had moved to New York to run the O’Neill Hotel chain on that side of the Atlantic. But he had never married, and one day, when her marriage was falling apart, they had suddenly understood that they were in love with each other, and always had been.
They had discovered this in Shane’s wonderful old barn in New Milford, an oasis of peace in the Connecticut countryside. And they had vowed to be together always.
Somehow.
Because it was meant to be.
Life plays funny tricks, she murmured to herself. Jim Fairley and her father David Amory, on a skiing holiday in Chamonix, had been killed in an avalanche. Winston and Emily had decided not to go skiing that day, and had narrowly escaped death. Their time wasn’t up, Paula whispered to herself. That’s what Emma always used to say: ‘You go on living until your time’s up.’
For a long time she had grieved for Jim and her father, and suffered the most devastating guilt. She had sent Shane away because of her guilt. But eventually she had realized how much she loved him and needed him, had understood he was her entire life. He still was.
Evan’s mother, Marietta Hughes, was furious.
Once again Owen had behaved in the most highhanded way and she felt like strangling him. But because her mother had always told her no man was worth murdering because of the dire consequences to oneself, she had decided against this rather harsh and drastic solution.
Flight for several hours was the only way she could settle the score and calm herself. And so she grabbed her handbag, picked up the shopping bag she had just taken out of the wardrobe, where it had been hidden behind her clothes for days, and left the suite. She didn’t even go into the bedroom to say goodbye to him. And so he would worry when he discovered she had gone.
As she took the lift down to the hotel lobby she prayed she wouldn’t run into the hotel proprietors, George or Arlette, especially Arlette, who constantly wanted to take her for tea or coffee in order to gossip about Evan. She knew the Frenchwoman adored Evan, had been kind to her, and meant no harm, but Marietta usually felt a degree of discomfort if forced to discuss members of her family, particularly Evan who was very special to her.
Fortunately she was not waylaid, made it safely out into the street, where she stood looking for a cab. It was a nice day, if a little too humid, but she was relieved it wasn’t raining. It had poured yesterday.
A cab slid to a stop in front of her and she got in, gave the cabbie the address of her bank, then sat back. She was relieved that she had escaped from the hotel without having to deal with George or Arlette, and, most importantly, that the shopping bag had gone undetected in its hiding place in the wardrobe.
Marietta placed her handbag on the cab seat next to her, but kept the shopping bag on her lap. The package inside it was precious–ever since finding it she had believed it to be dynamite–and she must keep it safe. She wasn’t sure if she could use it to her advantage, but she certainly was aware of its true value.
It suddenly struck her how wise she had been to keep her account open at Barclay’s Bank. There wasn’t much money in it, because she hadn’t transferred any, but they knew her at this particular branch, and renting a safe-deposit box had presented no problem. How relieved she would be when the package was safely in the bank. Then she would go to Fortnum and Mason’s and have coffee in the restaurant, and perhaps browse around in the store. She might even buy herself a hat, although she knew she wasn’t going anywhere special to wear it. But she’d always loved hats.
Normally she would have gone to Harte’s in Knightsbridge for coffee, but she was afraid of running into Evan. They were supposed to be in Connecticut, not here, were not due in London until next week. Owen had decided to come earlier than planned. ‘To give us time to get over our jet lag,’ he had said, but she knew this was just a ploy. He had wanted to arrive sooner than expected in order to take Evan by surprise, to catch her off-guard.
Marietta hadn’t liked that at all, but she had kept quiet. Long ago she had learned not to argue with Owen. So most of the time she kept her own counsel; however this did not prevent her from drawing her own conclusions and she knew she was right when it came to his attitude towards their daughter.
Owen had always believed he owned Evan. Certainly he behaved as if he did. He had taken their daughter over years ago, when she was very young, and he had pushed
her
out. She had lost Evan because of his possessiveness, and also because of her own mistakes, perhaps. She gripped the shopping bag tighter, her knuckles whitening over the handles as she thought of the past. Sometimes you did something, just a small thing, and yet it could have the most terrible and far-reaching consequences.
The cab came to a stop, and she alighted quickly, paid the driver and went into the bank. It was all so easy…within minutes she was placing the precious package in the safe-deposit box and putting the key in her handbag. Now no harm would come to it; nor could it be lost or stolen.
It was only much later, when she sat sipping her coffee in Fortnum’s that a terrible thought occurred to Marietta. What if she got sick and died, or was killed in an accident, or became senile? What would happen to the package in the safe-deposit box at the bank? No one but she knew it was there. She would have to tell someone. But who could she confide in?
Marietta’s mouth twitched slightly in a wry smile. There was nobody she could make her confidant because she did not trust anyone she knew.
A lawyer, she thought, I need a lawyer. To make a will. Yes, that’s what I have to do. She had a few things of real value to leave. As well as the package in the safe-deposit box. For her daughter Evan. The person she loved the most in the entire world.
Tomorrow that would be her project. She would set out to find a lawyer. It was imperative.
T
he four of them walked slowly around the perimeter of the estate–Jack Figg, Gideon Harte, Evan Hughes and Desmond O’Neill. Jack had a captive audience and he was in his element. He was talking about his favourite subject, Security with a capital S, and he did so enthusiastically.
‘For years all that’s ever been needed here are burglar alarms, because there are so many people around most of the time…Wiggs and his gardeners, the stable lads, Joe and his estate workers. But it’s very different now. We’re living in dangerous times, things are not the same anymore. England’s changed and
not
for the better,’ Jack pointed out.
‘You’re absolutely right in everything you say,’ Gideon answered. ‘It’s the same at Allington Hall, by the way. My father hasn’t got proper security either, except for alarms, and it’s downright neglectful when you think about it…all those horses, valuable horses, for example.’
Desmond said, ‘Uncle Winston
has
been talking about security with Dad. I heard them wittering on about it a few weeks ago. But I think Dad and Uncle Winston are very trusting.’
‘Perhaps that’s true when it comes to their homes,’ said Gideon. ‘But I know for a fact that your father is extremely high on security for all the O’Neill hotels, and certainly Dad knows it’s a priority at the newspaper offices, the television network and our radio stations.’ He glanced at Jack. ‘I’m hiring you right now to overhaul the security system at Allington Hall. And I’d like you to tackle the newspaper offices, television studios, radio stations as well. Make sure we’ve got the latest.’
‘Thanks for your vote of confidence, Gideon,’ Jack said, ‘but I
will
be hiring outside companies, if that’s all right. Of course I’ll be working with them, supervising.’
Gideon nodded.
‘One thing’s for sure, the store has huge security in place,’ Evan volunteered, smiling at Jack. ‘And I know you’re responsible for that.’
‘Yes, it was always at the top of my list when I was head of security at Harte’s.’
At this moment Evan’s mobile phone began to ring; she reached into her pocket and pulled it out. Bringing it to her ear, she said, ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Evan honey, it’s me,’ Owen said.
‘Dad! Hi! It’s nice to hear your voice.’ As she spoke she walked away, giving Gideon a wide smile, went to sit on a drystone wall. She watched the three men as they moved on, talking between themselves in an animated way.
‘I can’t wait for you to get here. I’m dying to see you and Mom,’ she continued.
‘We’re here already, honey,’ Owen announced, a chuckle in his voice.
‘You are! But why didn’t you let me know you were coming earlier?’ she exclaimed, startled by this news but not unduly put out. ‘When did you get to London, Dad?’
‘Wednesday night. Three days ago. I decided to change the date so we could recover from our jet lag before we started running around. Anyway, we’d love to see you today if you can make it. Your mother’s excited about your new apartment, and so am I. We thought we’d come over later.’
‘Oh Dad, it would have been great, but I’m not in London. I’m in Yorkshire.’
‘Oh, are you working up there?’ he asked.
‘No, not today, not on Saturday. I came up for a few days of rest, and I’ll be here until next Wednesday, since I do have to help India with certain things at the Leeds store. I have to spend three days there, so I guess I won’t see you until next Thursday, which is when I get back.’
‘I see.’ He sounded disappointed, his voice suddenly flat. ‘Too bad, honey,’ he added. ‘Thursday it is then.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dad. I didn’t know you were coming early and I made my plans around your original date. Gee, I don’t know if I can change things–’ Her voice trailed off as she wondered how to reschedule everything; she knew she couldn’t do so, at least not very easily.
‘Your mother wants to talk to you, to say hello, Evan.’
‘Put her on, Dad.’ A moment later she was exclaiming, ‘Hi, Mom, it’s so good to hear you. How are you?’
‘I’m very well these days, Evan,’ her mother said, her voice loving and warm. ‘I gather you’re not around.’
‘No, I’m in Yorkshire. I didn’t expect you until next week.’
‘I know, I know. I told your father you’d probably be busy, but you mustn’t worry about us. We’ll see you as soon as you return. At least, I hope we will.’
‘Absolutely. The hotel’s nice and cosy, isn’t it, Mom? I know George and Arlette must’ve made you very comfortable there, haven’t they?’
‘Yes to both your questions. They miss
you,
of course, now that you’ve moved out. But I don’t blame you, it’s nice to have a place of your own, isn’t it, Evan?’
‘Yes, it is,’ she laughed. ‘Oh Mom, I can’t wait to get back to town now I know you and Dad are there.’ She meant this, and she was particularly pleased that her mother sounded so
normal.
That was the only word for it. Normal. And yes,
happy.
Actually happy. She who was always depressed.
They went on talking for a few more minutes, and after promising to phone them at the hotel tomorrow, Evan clicked off the cell. She hurried after Gideon and the others, whom she could just see in the distance, heading for the front gates of Pennistone Royal.
It was true, she
was
glad her parents had arrived in London. She hadn’t seen them since January, and it was now August. Eight months in which so much had happened. Her life had changed in many different ways. And, in a sense, she had changed. She was a different person. She couldn’t wait to see them, but at the same time she
was
slightly apprehensive. Although she and Robin had agreed, only a few days ago, that she would not tell her father about him, there were, nonetheless, many other things she had to discuss. Difficult things.
Tessa stood at the window of her bedroom, looking down at the driveway, her eyes on Jack Figg. He stood talking to Gideon, gesticulating, obviously explaining something to him and to Desmond who was with them.