by Lorna Peel
“I’ve just had the police on the telephone. It’s Stephanie.”
“Tell me?”
“She’s in hospital, Thomas. He’s attacked her again.”
“Christ.”
“We’re to go there.” Lady Heaton’s voice shook. “Now.”
He nodded. “Get your coat, I’ll get the car out.” Closing the door, he inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath. “Christ.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Sophia asked.
“If we’re not back, then the tours and the shop,” he said apologetically. “I’ll have a word with Des before I go. I’m sorry that you may have to start them again so soon.”
“Don’t be silly. I should go,” she said, going to the door. “I’m only getting in your way. I hope Stephanie will be all right.”
She returned to the flat, saw him reverse the Jaguar out of the garage, then walk to the door of Des’ flat. When he drove away a few minutes later, she peered out into the yard and saw light shining out from Des’ office. She went downstairs and knocked at the door.
“Des? It’s Sophia.”
“Come in.”
She went inside and found him sitting at his desk. “Do you know Stephanie at all?”
“Not very well,” he replied. “She went off to university in London and now lives in Leeds. She works as a wedding dress designer and comes back here the odd time. The boyfriend is bad news. That was his brother you saw the day you arrived.”
“Oh. What exactly does Simon do?”
“As little as possible, from what I can make out. His Lordship made the mistake of lending him some money a while back and now he keeps coming back for more. I think he might be a druggie. And so when he can’t come, he sends his brother instead.”
Given the circumstances, it wasn’t going to be one of the best tours she had ever done but as she and her group made their way into the drawing room the following afternoon, it suddenly got a whole lot worse. The mantelpiece looked different somehow. How was it different? She racked her brains, acutely aware that the group were staring curiously at her. She smiled apologetically at them. She’d come back later.
Des was waiting for her as she passed the group on to Jack Halewood, the head gardener, with some relief.
“Sophia?” He smiled. “His Lordship has just rung me. Stephanie’s going to be fine.”
She clapped a hand to her face in relief. “Good.”
“Yes. His Lordship said she was very badly beaten but that she’ll be okay with some rest and recuperation here. Come to the kitchen for a coffee.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She went straight back to the drawing room and stared at the mantelpiece. The figurine. The Royal Doulton figurine was gone. She glanced around the room. No, it hadn’t been moved, it was definitely gone. Now what? Surely it wasn’t some kind of test orchestrated by Lady Heaton to see whether she was honest or not? Surely such a test would have been done weeks ago? She would have to report it to Lord Heaton when he returned. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind at the moment.
The following evening she saw the Jaguar pull around to the front of the house then went to the flat and made herself some dinner. Des gave her a wave from his office as she passed.
“Have you seen his Lordship at all since he got back last night?” he asked her in the morning.
“No, I haven’t. I had an early night last night. Mum and the funeral and everything caught up with me.”
Des pulled a sympathetic face. “How are you now?”
She smiled. “A good cry and twelve hours sleep did me the world of good. Was Lord Heaton supposed to see you about something?”
“No, no. It’s just that Helen was wondering about the arrangements for Stephanie.”
“I’ll try and find him.”
She went into the house via the side door and along the corridor to the library. She knocked and waited. Nothing.
“Lord Heaton?” There was no reply so she tried the handle. It turned and she went in. It was pitch-black in the room and it stank of cigarette smoke. She went to the window and opened the curtains before jumping violently. He was sitting in one of the leather armchairs watching her. He looked awful, his eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on his cheeks was almost a beard. “Have you been here all night?” she asked gently and he nodded. “When did you last eat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come with me, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“No.”
“You must eat something,” she urged. “Cigarettes can’t make up for not eating. You’re coming back to the flat with me. No arguing.”
There was a ghost of a smile as he got up.
In the flat, she pointed to a chair. “Please sit down while I make you some scrambled eggs. You do like scrambled eggs?”
“Yes, I do.” He watched her cook then joined her at the breakfast bar. “The first time you saw me, at the boathouse, did you ever wonder what I was doing there?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Stephanie and Simon spent the weekend here but had gone out on Saturday evening to a nightclub in town. Steph came back without him, they’d had a row, and she told me that he was selling drugs in the club. I went a bit mad, I suppose. I ransacked their room and found ecstasy tablets and a small amount of speed in the wardrobe. I should have flushed them down the toilet but I just wanted the stuff as far away from the house as possible so I brought them down to the lake. Then I saw you coming. After you went, I dug a hole and buried it all. He didn’t show up again until the Monday morning, saw that the drugs were gone, and was demanding money from me to buy more. I threw him out. Then his brother turned up. I threw him out, too. You saw me throw him out. God, if only I’d called the police and got Simon locked up instead of letting my temper get in the way.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Eat.”
He nodded and began on the scrambled eggs. She was relieved to see him finish it and passed him a glass of orange juice.
“When we got to the hospital, I couldn’t recognise Steph, the swelling was so bad.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I couldn’t even recognise my own sister.”
Sophia shuddered. “I think Helen would like to speak to either you or Lady Heaton about the arrangements for when Stephanie comes here.”
He nodded. “I’ll speak to her. Thank you for this,” he said, sliding off the stool. “It was very good of you.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, there’s something I need to tell you. When I was in the drawing room with a group the other day I noticed that something was missing.”
“Missing?” He frowned. “What?”
“A Royal Doulton figurine from the mantelpiece. I stand there when I tell groups about the length of the room and the décor and so I know what’s on it…and not on it.”
He sighed. “I see. Well, thank you for letting me know.” He went out and she began to wonder if she should have told him about Lady Heaton’s very odd behaviour. No, she decided, she was right not to. If it was a test of her honesty, surely Lady Heaton’s odd behaviour in the house would end now? But even if it did, there was still the question of all the money she was lodging in the bank and what was in the box she was carrying onto the bus to Leeds. What on earth was going on?
Sophia met a tired but smiling Lady Heaton in the gardens that afternoon.
“Stephanie will be coming home in a few days. She was very lucky that her jaw wasn’t broken.”
“Have the police caught her boyfriend?”
Lady Heaton’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “No, they haven’t. Luckily, her room here is nowhere near where the tours go, so they will be able to continue.”
“Yes, Lady Heaton.”
“I’m sorry that you had to start work again so soon.”
“I was glad to be doing something, actually,” Sophia admitted. “And it was only a small group.”
Lady Heaton nodded. “I hear you managed to persuade Thomas to eat. Thank you. He never liked Simon and
considers himself to be a surrogate father to Stephanie on top of everything else, but she can be just as stubborn and refused to leave Simon. Until now.”
“Love is blind,” she said, thinking of Lee, and Lady Heaton nodded again. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“I was telling her about you and the tours and she is looking forward to meeting you.” Lady Heaton looked at her watch. “The Australian group should be here soon.”
“Yes, Lady Heaton.” Sophia nodded and walked back to the house.
That evening, she went to visit her father. He was in surprisingly good spirits and full of gossip as she made them a mug of tea each.
“I heard from Reverend Jackson today that Stephanie Heaton was beaten black and blue by her boyfriend and ended up in hospital again,” he told her.
“Yes, Stephanie’s coming back to the abbey in a few days,” she replied, stirring milk into the tea and passing him a mug. “Her boyfriend is still nowhere to be found.”
“And what about Lord Heaton?”
She fought to control a flush and passed him one of the mugs. “He was very upset.”
“Naturally.” Her father took a sip of tea. “You do know the man fancies you, don’t you, Soph?”
She swallowed and looked away, thinking of the drawings.
“I was watching him at the rugby club after the funeral,” her father added. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Time you got out of the abbey, don’t you think?”
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m not having my daughter as his fancy piece. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“His mother was nearly twenty years younger than the husband. Now, I was no spring chicken when I got married but at least I didn’t cradle snatch your mum.” He put the mug down. “I’m not having you being used as a broodmare, Sophia.”
“Dad, for goodness sake. He’s only a few years older than I am.”
“You don’t like him, do you?” he asked incredulously. “Fancy him?”
“Dad, he’s been very kind to us.”
“So you’ll be repaying him in kind?” Mr Nelson demanded.
“Dad,” she cried. “He’s my employer.”
“He’s also a very good-looking man, according to Gavin.”
“Yes, and thanks for not telling me that Gavin was gay. I felt a right idiot when he told me.”
Her father gave a dismissive shrug. “He’s very choosy as to who knows. Imagine if Neville and Brenda knew?”
Sophia’s eyes bulged. “You mean everyone knows now except his mum and dad?”
“Yes, but that’s of his own doing. Just promise me that you won’t do anything silly?”
She kissed his cheek. “I promise.”
“Good. Now.” Mr Nelson went out into the hall and returned with a cardboard box. “These are a few things of your mum’s I want you to have.”
Sophia joined him at the kitchen table. In the box were some jewellery boxes, photos and – her heart pounded – diaries. “Dad, are you sure you want to give these away?”
“I’m not giving them away, I’m giving them to you. I’ll never read your mum’s diaries and what would I do with the jewellery?”
“If you change your mind and want them back, you just tell me?”
He smiled. “I won’t want them back.”
She drove back to Heaton Abbey via St Margaret’s Churchyard. Crouching down beside her mother’s grave, she began to read the cards attached to the wreaths.
A good woman. We won’t see your like again. Neville, Brenda, and Gavin
To a good friend. Rest in peace. Danielle
Rest in peace. Sally
She smiled sadly then rose and stretched. She then saw a wreath a little way down the path between the rows of graves. It looked as though it had been thrown there as it had landed upside down. She went and picked it up and read the card. It had been simply signed Thomas Heaton and Felicity Heaton. She sighed and brushed grass and dried earth from the flowers before placing it back on the grave.
Straightening up, she turned and almost cried out in fright as Heaton emerged from behind a tall headstone.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wasn’t sure if you were alone or not.”
“I am on my own,” she told him. “I’ve just been to see Dad.”
He nodded and they stared at each other for a few moments until she looked down at the grave.
“Thank you for the wreath.”
“Not at all. I came to look for Danielle’s parents’ graves but I couldn’t find them.”
“They’re not buried here. Danielle’s family are Roman Catholic, they’re buried over at St Mary’s.
“Oh.” He frowned. “Oh, I see. Well, that explains it, then.”
“Would you like me to show you the graves?” she asked hesitantly. “I’ve been to see them with Michelle so I know where they are.”
His face brightened. “Well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
He followed her to St Mary’s Church in the Land Rover and they parked either side of the gates.
“I haven’t been here since Cathy’s christening,” she said as she locked the Mini.
“Cathy?” he queried, holding the gate open for her.
“Michelle’s daughter. Thank you,” she said as they went in. “She screamed the place down. Cathy, I mean, not Michelle.”
He smiled.
They walked up the gravel path towards the church, the O’Hara graves being immediately behind it. Then she heard a shout and saw three teenage boys appear from behind the church, followed by…
“Shit,” she hissed, stopping abruptly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Jeff, that boy in black, he lives next door to Michelle and Tony.”
“He knows you?”
“Yes.” She began to panic. “I lived there for months. God, I can’t let him see me here with you.” She glanced wildly from side to side. On her left was a fence about six feet high with trees growing at intervals along it. To her right were rows of neat headstones, too low to hide behind. In front of her, Jeff and the other boys were approaching. “Shit.”
Heaton grabbed her arm and pulled her towards a tree to her left. “Quick, before he recognises you. I’ll have to pretend to hug you, or something.”
Heaton took one last look at the approaching boys, clasped her shoulders, and backed her into the tree. “Pretend” and “or something” went completely out of the window, of course. His arms went around her and he made an awkward pretence of hugging her before she felt lips on the side of her neck. She closed her eyes and felt them travel up to her mouth. He began to pull at her lips with his, his hands sliding up to hold her face. One of her hands was on his shoulder while the other hand crept up of its own accord and was half on the back of his neck and half in his hair and she found herself kissing him back.
“Need a hand there, do you?” one of the boys shouted, followed by a whistle of approval and encouragement from one of the others.
She felt Heaton tense and he turned her so that he had his back to the path, a hand in the small of her back holding her tightly to him, the other cupping her head and the back of her neck.
“Whoa.” She heard Jeff’s voice. “Shagging in a graveyard.”
“They’re not,” one of the others told him.
“They will be in a minute,” he assured them. “Shall we form an orderly queue?”
“Yeah, why not? I could do with a shag.”
That was too much for Heaton and, before she could grab hold of him with both hands, he broke away from her and took the boy by the scruff of the neck.
“Would you like to repeat that, you little shit?”
“Hey, come on, it was only a joke.”
“Well, I didn’t find it very funny.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you need to get out more,” Jeff shouted, then looked across at her and did a double take. “Sophia?”
Face burning, she had to go forward. �
��Jeff.”
“Fuck sake, Sophia. I thought Lee was a twat, but this one isn’t even house-trained.”
“Let him go.” She pulled Heaton’s hands off the boy’s sweatshirt. “Now go,” she told the boy. “You, too.” She glanced briefly at Jeff. “Now.”
They didn’t need to be told twice and ran from the graveyard and the gate banged shut. She covered her face with her hands then dragged them down and took a quick peek at Heaton. He was rooted to the spot on the path. Taking a deep breath, she passed him, heading for the gate.
“I’m sorry.”
She stopped and turned. “You might as well have put a full page advert in the local paper. How the hell am I going to explain all this? At least he didn’t know who you were, so that’s something.”
“If there’s anything I can do?” he said feebly.
“Yes. Stop trying to throttle people who annoy you. Bloody hell, they’re not your feudal subjects.”
“It was because he was making some derogatory comments about you. Maybe you were too busy to hear.”
Even more blood rushed to her face. “I was too busy? You did say, ‘or something’, didn’t you? Who couldn’t even hug properly? Eh? Bloody hell, if I’d wanted more I’d have jumped on you up on the moors where there’s nobody about.” She cringed with horror as Heaton’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Oh, God, is this what she did to Lee? Blurting out really, really stupid things all the time? No wonder he tried to put a couple of hundred miles between them, poor sod. “Look, I’m sorry… It’s Mum and all that… I’m not thinking straight. I froze, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t jump over that.” She pointed to the fence. “And we couldn’t hide behind those.” She pointed to the gravestones. “I was stupid to offer to show you the graves without checking the graveyard out first, okay? Now I’ll have to try and figure out what the hell to say to Michelle.” He looked at his feet and she sighed. “You’ve got lip balm here…”
He raised his head and she gestured awkwardly to her own mouth.
“Here?” He attempted to wipe the pink smear away.
“No.” Reaching up, she quickly wiped it away with her thumb. “There.”
