Shifting Sands (30 page)

‘Karen, we're in the middle of a murder enquiry, we have a dinner for a hundred guests coming up, and you ask why I'm worried?'

‘But it's something more personal, isn't it? I know you, Mike.' She drew a deep breath, steadily holding his gaze. ‘Tell me the truth: did you kill Elise du Pré?'

He gasped. ‘Good God! What kind of question is that?'

‘A necessary one, in the circumstances.
Something's
eating you up, and I want to know what it is.'

He felt the sweat break out – on his face, in his armpits, on the palms of his hands. But her first question, at least, he could answer.

‘I assure you categorically that I did not kill Elise, poor girl. Why the hell should I have done that?'

‘Why the hell should anyone? OK, so it's something else. And don't trot out that excuse about the dinner, because it just won't wash. You could organize such things in your sleep.'

Briefly, Mike closed his eyes. ‘Don't worry, I'll sort it.'

‘But you haven't, have you? It started when you got back from Manchester – which is what made me think of Elise – and I've been waiting all this time for you to discuss it with me, as usual. But you haven't, and now it's eating me up too, and I can't wait any longer. If you think you're sparing me by keeping me in the dark, not knowing's much worse.'

She slipped to her knees in front of him, taking hold of his hands. ‘It can't be
that
bad!' she said encouragingly. ‘As long as we're all together, nothing—' She broke off as his hands clenched, regarding him with dawning apprehension.

‘You've found someone else!' she whispered.

‘No! God, no!' He reached for her convulsively, pulling her into his arms.

‘But it's something to do with the family? The boys?' Her voice rose. ‘Mike,
tell
me, for God's sake!'

Holding her tightly against him so she couldn't see his face, he said, ‘It's Paul. No –' as she instinctively jerked – ‘he's not hurt. You spoke to him last night, remember? At least, not hurt in that way.'

She pulled back, searching his face. Paul, now sixteen, was their elder son, an exceptionally bright boy. He'd won a scholarship to public school, and, with his flair for languages, had set his heart on a career in the diplomatic service. The world seemed to be his oyster, so what could possibly . . .?

‘He's involved in a drugs ring,' Mike said expressionlessly.

‘
No
!'

‘I'm afraid so, my darling. I caught the first whisper at Simon's concert, the night I got back from Manchester; John Pierce, whose son's also at Ashton, asked if I'd heard the rumours.'

‘But . . . if it's just cannabis, lots of young people—'

‘It's not just cannabis, it's coke.'

She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. ‘But it doesn't mean Paul's involved,' she protested. ‘There are over two hundred boys—'

‘That's what I hoped, but I was taking no chances. The following day, Sunday, when I said I had to go to Woodcot, I went down to see him, still praying he wasn't involved. We went out for a walk, and as soon as I brought up the subject, there was no mistaking his reaction.'

‘What did he say?' Karen whispered, white-lipped.

‘At first, he tried to deny it, but when I persisted, he . . . went to pieces. Insisted it was only recreational – all the usual claptrap – and promised faithfully he'd never touch it again.' Mike shrugged hopelessly. ‘I might have scared the life out of him, but that's as far as it went. He keeps phoning me at work – for reassurance I suppose, poor kid – but every time I ask if he's stopped using, he admits he hasn't and begs me to hang on, give him more time.'

He looked helplessly at his wife's appalled face. ‘Where have we gone wrong, Karen? Where have
I
? I should have known – there must have been signs, and I missed them.'

Karen's voice cracked. ‘What will you do?'

‘Report him. I have to.'

She stared at him, aghast. ‘But Mike, you can't! He'll go to prison! It'll ruin his life!'

‘Not as much as if we do nothing. Think about it; Paul says only half a dozen of them are involved, but that's six too many, and if they're not stopped soon they'll become seriously addicted. I've been going out of my mind, wondering what to do for the best. I should have told you – of course I should – but I kept telling myself I could deal with it. I even got as far as writing to his headmaster, giving him the facts as I knew them and imploring him not to reveal his source. The letter was in my briefcase, ready to be posted next day. But I was in such a state that night that I went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table for two hours. And after several glasses of whisky, I tore it up, telling myself that if I sent it, Paul would never forgive me. And nor would you.'

He glanced at her briefly. ‘There's also Simon to think of. You know how he looks up to his big brother. If Paul said jump, he would.'

‘You're not saying he'd involve
Simon
?' Karen regarded him with horror.

‘Who knows what he might do, when he's on a trip? No, I've dithered quite long enough, it's time for positive action. Once next weekend is over, I'll make an appointment to see Crawford. A letter was taking the easy way out – it's better done face-to-face. I'll lay the facts before him, and he can take it from there. He's a sensible chap, and he's got the good of his school to think of. He'll be determined to stamp it out, and fast.' Mike squeezed his wife's hands. ‘But we'll have to accept Paul's days at Ashton are over.'

Jonathan and Sophie had agreed, over the phone, to tell their partners about Anna and Lewis, on the grounds that it might come out during the dinner. In neither case was the reaction as censorious as they feared.

‘Have you met him?' Angus asked, after his initial surprise.

‘Briefly.'

‘What's he like?'

‘Impossible to say. Ma seems fond of him, and it's apparently reciprocated, but she's been beating herself up over Dad, poor love.'

‘It's a compliment to him that she wants to repeat the exercise.'

‘You're not . . . shocked? Or disappointed in her?'

‘Of course not, why should I be? It'll be great to see her happy again.'

Sophie put her arms round him and rested her cheek against his jacket. ‘I do love you,' she said.

Vicky was even more forthright.

‘Good for her!' she said.

Jonathan looked at her in surprise. ‘That's all you have to say?'

‘What more is there? It's great that she has a second chance.' She looked at him consideringly. ‘You don't look too pleased about it.'

‘He seems a bit . . . enigmatic,' Jonathan hedged.

‘Have you met him?'

‘No, I—'

‘Then how can you possibly know? Not that there's anything wrong with a bit of enigma! Anyway, I have faith in Anna's good taste. I'm sure he's charming.'

It was arranged that Jonathan and Vicky would collect Anna, and they'd drive to Beechford together.

Now the time had arrived, she was assailed with doubts and worries. Would she be introduced to Lewis's family, and if so, in what capacity? She suspected that the high-profile guest list would all either have celebrity status or long-standing connection with the Group. She should have cleared this with Lewis, but was loath to bother him at this stage with such trivialities.

The die was cast, she told herself dramatically, and whatever would be, would be.

Saturday the twentieth of November was crisp with frost and blue of sky, the Surrey countryside bathed in thick sunshine that lit berries and bare branches alike with a touch of gold.

‘Got your posh frock?' Jonathan asked humorously.

‘Most certainly,' Anna replied.

‘Vicky insisted on a complete new wardrobe!'

‘Untrue,' Vicky calmly contradicted, from the back seat. ‘A new dress, certainly, and shoes and bag to go with it, but that's all.'

‘She'll be the belle of the ball!' Jonathan said fondly.

‘I'm wearing my bronze satin,' Anna remarked. ‘I've had it a while, but I always feel good in it.'

‘It's lovely,' Vicky agreed. ‘You wore it to the Golf Club dance last year.'
When Miles was with them
. She hurried on, ‘It matches your highlights!'

‘Thank God all I have to worry about is a black tie!' Jonathan commented. ‘And by the looks of it, ladies, we've arrived.'

They'd been driving for several minutes alongside a stone wall, the length of which was now broken by a wrought-iron gate between two pillars. A man in uniform awaited them with a board, and Jonathan wound down his window.

‘Good afternoon, sir. Could I have your name, please?'

‘Farrell,' Jonathan supplied. ‘All three of us.'

The man marked them off on his list. ‘Thank you, sir; if you care to continue up the drive, my colleague will explain the parking arrangements.'

‘Guarding against gatecrashers,' Vicky commented as another car turned into the gate behind them.

The drive was almost a mile long, bordered on both sides by trees and shrubs strung with fairy lights.

‘It's like driving in a grotto!' Anna remarked.

As the house came into sight, a second uniformed figure approached, and again Jonathan stopped.

‘If you'll drive to the front door, sir,' he was told, ‘your luggage will be unloaded and your car valet-parked.'

In the large, bustling lobby, girls in powder-blue suits and white blouses were greeting guests, handing out keys, and escorting them to their rooms, while porters threaded their way to the lifts with trolleys of luggage.

‘Everyone seems to be arriving at once!' Anna commented.

Before conducting them to their rooms, their hostess pointed out the drawing room, where tea would shortly be served. ‘There's no hurry,' she assured them, ‘just come down when you're ready.'

Anna was relieved to find her room next to Jonathan and Vicky's. ‘Give me a knock when you're ready to go down,' she said. ‘I wonder if Sophie and Angus have arrived yet.'

The room she found herself in was large and comfortable and had a small balcony overlooking the grounds. A tap on her door heralded the arrival of her suitcase, and she unpacked quickly, relieved to find no creases in the satin dress. She did so hope, for Lewis's sake, that everything would go off well. Perhaps, just for twenty-four hours, his worries could be put on hold.

They did not spot Sophie and Angus during afternoon tea, though with the continually moving throngs of people, it was hardly surprising. The drawing room was a large, pleasant room, where sofas and chairs had been grouped round low tables ready laid with stands of cakes, sandwiches and plates for four people. Soon after they seated themselves, a waitress arrived with two teapots, offering Indian or China tea.

As well as tiny sandwiches with a variety of fillings, there were scones, accompanied by individual dishes of cream and jam, and little iced cakes.

‘I bet this isn't the usual fare!' Jonathan joked. ‘Think of the calories!'

Anna was keeping an eye open for Lewis, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably checking last-minute details for the evening, she assumed. However, when, forty minutes later, they'd returned to their rooms, he phoned her.

‘Everything OK?' he asked.

‘More than OK – fabulous!'

‘Excellent. Family all here?'

‘I came with Jonathan and his wife. I've not seen the others yet.'

‘Your son's a journalist, isn't he? If he'd like to write up the occasion, he's more than welcome. My PA can give him any details he needs – we never turn down the chance of publicity!'

‘I'll pass the message on! But Lewis, if anyone asks about my connection with Mandelyns, what should I say?'

‘How about we're considering a merger?'

She caught her breath.

‘Look,' he went on, ‘we'll only manage a couple of words at most this evening, but once all this is over, I think it's time we discussed a few things. Agreed?'

For a heart-stopping moment she hesitated. But she'd already admitted to herself that just as she'd fallen for Miles so quickly, so had she for Lewis. If he now needed an answer from her, she knew what it would be. ‘Agreed,' she said.

When they went down for the reception, a very different scene met their eyes. The sound of conversation had floated up the stairs to meet them as throngs of people milled about the foyer, glasses in hands, and Vicky, noting the elegant dresses of the women, was thankful she'd splashed out on a new outfit.

The drawing room was transformed. Such furniture as remained had been pushed against the walls, and a bar was set up at the far end, though it didn't appear to be in service. Through a sudden gap in the crowd, Jonathan caught sight of Myrtle, with the dapper young man who was her husband. She raised her eyebrows at him and blew a kiss. Then the crowd closed again, shutting her off from view.

Waiters and waitresses were moving between the groups with trays of glasses, and as Anna was taking hers, she heard her name called, and turned to see Wendy manoeuvring her way towards her.

‘Hello, Wendy! Lovely to see a face I know!'

‘Ditto! We're sitting together at dinner, which is great. Have you seen the seating plan? There are several around, but I can tell you we're on table eight.'

‘Thanks. May I introduce my son and daughter-in-law, Jonathan and Vicky? Wendy Salter, whom I met in South Africa.'