Dreams to Die For (18 page)

Hogmanay was a riot of fun and laughter. The estate workers were again invited, and after a sufficient quantity of whisky and food had been consumed, an impromptu ceilidh started. Cindy was amazed at how talented some of the workers were. One wrote wonderful romantic poetry and spoke it beautifully. Several played the fiddle and the lively music of marches, jigs and airs filled the rooms of the large house as they danced away the hours. A particularly fine violinist gave a long virtuoso performance, listened to in silence by the admiring throng, of both Highland reels and the music of Gow and Scott Skinner of the Scottish east coast. Others simply told folk stories with yet another man being such a good comic and mimic many in his audience found difficulty remaining on their chairs. Margaret had a fine singing voice which was perfect for the poignant, haunting melodies of the Hebridean folk songs she sang, accompanied at times by the violinist. Whenever there was a pause and everyone was resting, Gordon would play recordings of Count John McCormack, the world famous Irish tenor who was much revered in the Highlands for his renderings of traditional ballads. It was nearly 5am before people started to crash out on the floor. A few hours later however, and after cooking some bacon butties for themselves, they started up again.

Cindy had so enjoyed her stay that she hardly noticed how quickly the days passed, but all too soon it was time to goodbye. Tears filled her eyes. The night before, she and Gordon had made love after talking quite seriously to each other for the first time. They both wanted the relationship to continue and hoped they might be able to share their lives together, but Gordon emphasised that any divorce must be a decision for Cindy alone; it was not for him to influence her. He also insisted that she should not make any commitments now but to wait until she had returned home, spending some time away from him to pause and reflect upon her situation, before deciding and planning her future. Whatever she chose to do, Gordon promised she would always have his love and support.

There was a distinct chill in the atmosphere that had little to do with the weather when Cindy arrived back at Red Gables. She had been away longer than had Alan and on the first weekend back together, he hardly spoke to her. He was no longer interested in her mystery holiday and chose to ignore the subject altogether. This wasn't because he had experienced a wonderful time himself. He had enjoyed the break and the companionship and delights of Anna's body, but they both knew that nothing more permanent would come of it. It had suited Anna and given her back the confidence she needed to perhaps now go on and find a new long-term partner or husband. Alan had managed to forget his mounting pressures at the bank and at home, but he was still finding it very hard to come to terms with the probable break-up with Cindy. She had of course asked after Alan's parents and was quite shocked when he explained where he spent Christmas, though he was careful not to mention Anna, and Cindy decided that if she asked more questions it might prompt Alan to ask a few of his own. A mutually observed silence on detail suited them both. They spent the next few weeks much as they had before Christmas. Cindy managed to see Gordon for lunch a couple of times and continued her gym, gun dogs and other activities. She became increasingly convinced that she needed to be with Gordon but divorce seemed such a drastic solution that she had not yet sought any legal advice. To his credit Gordon had not raised again the subject of her living with him – keeping firmly to what he had said at Mealag that it was entirely a matter for her.

Cindy was not even cheered, and only cursorily complimentary, when an excited Alan phoned her one evening to say that one of his personal deals had really paid off. Several years ago, he had purchased a large volume of shares in some far eastern venture and the company, whose shares had not been exciting, recently leapt in value. No one quite knew why at first, but it emerged that a Chinese conglomerate were interested in taking the company over on the expectation that some oil rights the firm held would yield big profits. He had made over a million pounds and was jubilant. If anything, his new found affluence made him increasingly resentful of Cindy's behaviour. Despite what Donaldson had said about there being no evidence of an affair, he was convinced that Cindy was not just going through some weird “woman thing” as colleagues suggested. The more hurt and resentful he became at her behaviour and lack of affection towards him, the more determined he was that she would not get half the combined assets if they divorced, especially now he had invested the Chinese money in some rather obscure offshore accounts. He had seen his solicitor again and she explained that both parties would have to declare their assets and also make a declaration as to whether they intended to live with anyone.

“Most people say ‘no' to that, whatever their real intentions,” she explained. “After all, anyone can change their mind after six months or so and the courts are not likely to disturb an agreed settlement if one party is then financially better off than another.”

Cindy was denying an affair anyway, and still lived at Red Gables and stayed there at night. Not only had Donaldson confirmed that, but Alan had made a point every now and then of driving to Stillwood midweek and arriving late, around midnight, half hoping to find the house empty. Cindy had always been home.

* * *

In early March Cindy received a telephone call from her friend Peter who had agreed to provide her cover story at Christmas. He wanted to meet her and suggested either London or Stillwood. It was highly unusual for Peter to suggest meeting Cindy alone, and even more strange to offer to visit Red Gables. Normally he would invite people to parties or see them with his boyfriend Stephen, and a perplexed Cindy wondered what he wanted. She chose to meet at Red Gables, but lunch at the nearby excellent Black Pheasant Hotel. Peter arrived, immaculately dressed in a grey, but heavily pinstriped suit, a rather flamboyant slightly patterned pale green shirt and a quite outrageous scarlet tie that matched the handkerchief which flopped from the top breast pocket of his suit. Shiny black shoes, a long furled umbrella in his right hand and a large bouquet of flowers in the other, completed his appearance.

“My dear, how simply lovely to see you,” he gushed as he offered Cindy the flowers and turned his cheek for her to kiss, which she did before hugging him and inviting him in. They chatted for almost an hour about old times and colleagues, and not once did Peter ask about Christmas. In fact, he didn't ask about anything that would justify him travelling especially to see her, and she was becoming more curious as to why he had called her. As they left in his car for the hotel, Cindy felt she had to ask the purpose of his visit, but Peter was in full flow reciting a very crude joke he had heard recently in a London gay bar. Although it made Cindy blush, she had to admit it was very funny and she made a point of trying to remember it as she knew of a couple of her female friends who would certainly approve of its vulgarity.

The joke distracted her thoughts and soon they sat inside the sumptuous restaurant and were ordering lunch when Peter turned to her.

“Did you know my darling that you have appeared on our radar, so to speak?” Peter asked innocently.

“No, what are you talking about Peter? A rather bewildered Cindy replied.

“Gordon Truscott is a name that's familiar to you I believe?” He slightly raised his eyebrows as he started to talk more quietly, almost in a hushed voice but with more formality.

“What is this about Peter? How do you know Gordon?” As she asked the question, it dawned on her that Peter was now at the Foreign Office and this must have something to do with Assiter's visit to Mealag in September.

“Oh, wait a minute. I think I know. The American visitor.” Cindy had not spent a large part of her working life in the Cabinet Office not to be discreet with names when it was called for, and the hotel was a very public place.

“Indeed, my dear. He's looking forward to it very much I'm told. We don't want any, shall we say, mishaps or accidents, so there has been an exhaustive threat analysis, you know the sort of thing, and of course your name has come up.”

“How the bloody hell was that, Peter? I've told no one of Gordon.”

“Well darling, it is our job to know these things, or if not ours those scruffy boys who occupy that ghastly building over the river. They really needn't have bothered to tail Truscott since the American told his people you and he would likely be around in September.”

“What tail, what have you been up to and why are you telling me all this?” Cindy was becoming concerned, not because she had something to hide, but because of all the apparent mystery.

“OK, Cindy. Sit back and I'll tell you, but I emphasise I am here as a friend, and only as a friend, and we have not spoken. Understood?” Cindy nodded.

“The American visitor carries a certain profile, shall we say, where it would not be in the UK interest if anything befell him or he was unhappy with his visits here, including his personal trips. His own country too, has similar concerns for his well-being, probably more than we do, and always insist on having some of their people close by, even when the American is on holiday. When we were told of his September trip, we of course carried out the necessary checks. Truscott is pretty familiar to us, tycoons get noticed and a distant eye kept on what they are up to. His people on the estate all appear to be exactly what they are, good honest folk and all that. Truscott though has money – lots of it – that could give him potential influence if he was minded to use it for purposes of which we may disapprove. Ally that to his contacts across the world and you can see, my dear, how careful poor Peter must be as I have to sign off this recreational visit.”

“Yes, I understand all that, Peter, but where do I fit in and why have lunch with me today?” Cindy was struggling to understand.

“Oh, don't be so impatient, you naughty girl,” Peter said in mock reproof of her interruption. He could be quite incorrigible at times. “Before passing over their report the scruffy lot decided to make certain of one or two things, and that entailed them undertaking rather a lot of covert surveillance. The photos were very good though.”

“Peter, I know we are in a public place but frankly you are talking in riddles. What exactly are trying to tell me? What have you found out?” Cindy's heart was racing and her mind in a spin. “If Five had found out that Gordon was up to no good, you sure as hell would not come and tell me. So what is going on?” Her voice slightly raised, Cindy was becoming mildly irate. She suddenly recalled her lunch companion's reference to photos and, more nervously, asked “And what photos, Peter? What or who are they of? Can you tell me?”

Peter Knowles replied smoothly in a manner totally befitting his Foreign Office status. “My dear, you're in them and, as always, looking marvellous. Remember when you picked up your friend at Oxford Station last month and after lunch went to that rather chic hotel round the back of Magdelene College for the afternoon? Also, that trip out to Meckerton to have lunch with some lady friends before you spent the afternoon at the Cheltenham Hilton where Truscott was staying?” He stopped allowing several seconds of silence to pass between them.

Cindy did not know what to say. She had no idea she was being followed, let alone photographed going into hotels with Gordon. In an instant Peter had just turned loving and precious moments into something that seemed rather tawdry. She started to cry. Peter immediately offered her his handkerchief which she used to lightly dab away the tears.

“You are real bastards, you know. She hesitated fearing the answer to her next question. “There weren't… weren't any pictures of us in the hotel, were there?”

“No, no, my dear you have it all wrong. I'm here personally – when I shouldn't be – as your friend, as there is more that you need to know. The British security surveillance people are really quite good you know, and they noticed that the good guys were not the only ones following you to Meckerton and then onto Cheltenham. A small blue car, driven by a pretty fit looking chap, was also on your tail so to speak”. He smiled benignly. “You had already been flagged up by the system of course, so everyone knew who you were, and your security clearance given your previous job, but they still had to be sure. All our people wanted was to make certain that it was Truscott you met. He had been followed all the way down the motorway from bloody Scotland, would you believe! The gooks on your tail naturally took a note of the blue car details, hire car it was, and rented by a bloke named Donaldson. Works with your husband, we think his driver, so presumably you know him?”

Cindy sighed deeply. “Yes. He's Alan's driver and anything else Alan wants him to be.”

“I'm here to tell you all this as I deduced, I guess accurately, that Truscott was the reason for your call to me at Christmas, and as a friend thought you may like to know about Donaldson. I was slightly worried until he was checked out that he may have been some kind of stalker, but of course it would have been difficult for me to make a complaint to the local police without a lot of questions being asked.”

“I'm very grateful, Peter, so sorry about losing it a bit earlier.”

“No matter, my dear, but please do be careful. I'm not sure what Donaldson is up to. When the boys realised he was tailing you they asked Uniform to stop him for a few moments on some excuse just to see what he did afterwards. They pulled him in at Cleeve. By the time he got going again, he turned round and went back home which strongly suggests he had no idea where Truscott was, nor if you were going to see him. Actually, of course, he may not even know of him.”

“Yes, I see” said Cindy, still thinking of Donaldson tailing her and wondering if he was doing so on Alan's instructions or, more sinister, on his own account.

“Actually, I'm rather surprised at your husband employing Donaldson. Technically he's clean but he's only just the right side of that line, so to speak. He was always in trouble at the various schools he attended, got into bar brawls and such as a teenager, and then joined the army. They appeared to have some doubt about his conduct but nothing was ever proven and after that he joined the rather dubious profession of a mercenary, and so on. Not the sort of chap I would expect Alan to have as a chauffeur.”

“Yes, Peter, I know most of that. I find him odious; in fact the bloke gives me the creeps.”

They had finished their lunch and were enjoying the coffee by the time Peter had finished explaining the reason for his visit. He looked across at Cindy and said, “Very slight change of subject – are you happy?”

“Oh yes Peter, very much so, but obviously there is a lot I need to start sorting out and Alan is hurting. He doesn't know of Gordon, or that anyone else is in my life, so cannot understand why things have gone wrong between us.”

“My dear, yes, I do sympathise. It must be awful for you both. We all strive for absolute pleasure, but if we get close to it I find it invariably results in pain to others, usually those that love and cherish us. Life can be so cruel at times. I knew I couldn't do without Stephen from the moment our eyes met, but his partner at that time was so mortified. Simply dreadful, you know. My advice for what it is worth is to sort things out quickly and don't look back. Less pain all round in the long run. Anyway, back to business. The Scottish place itself is almost a natural fortress so few problems there when the American drops by, but for our lads' sake I do hope he doesn't like mountaineering! I hope you all have a wonderfully happy time together. Do let me know, won't you darling?”

Cindy, of course, agreed. Peter refused the offer of more drinks when they arrived back at Red Gables and stayed in his car. As he lowered the electric window, he called for Cindy to come closer.

“One final thing, my dear. In September, there will be several of our people and some of the Americans nearby. Almost certainly he will have a couple of his Special Forces chaps by his side most of the time, possibly in and around the house. I just thought you may like to know that you will not be on your own.”