by Alicia Hope
Pleased to see Jill and Peter Fox and the Meiers seated at a large table having breakfast, Claire-Rose steered her mother toward them.
‘Morning all.’
‘Morning,’ came the cheery reply. Four pairs of eyes smiled at Claire-Rose and took in the well-dressed woman with her.
‘Pull up a pew,’ Jill prompted.
Introductions made, the two women seated themselves at the table. While the others were busy making conversation, Claire-Rose peeked toward the kitchen. No sign of Byron. This made her feel relieved but also bereft … and curious about where he was. She clicked her tongue, annoyed with herself.
‘It’s a buffet brekkie this morning. The hot food’s in the Bain Marie over there,’ Jill announced, pointing toward the bench outside the kitchen. ‘And the continental stuff is beside it, along with crockery and cutlery. So help yourselves whenever you’re ready.’
Seeing Sam the cook emerge from the kitchen with fresh trays of hash browns and sautéed mushrooms, Claire-Rose got to her feet. ‘Well, no waiting, no delay.’ Taking care not to rush, she strolled over to the bain marie, willing Sam to take his time swapping the trays. Reaching his side, she said brightly, ‘Morning Sam.’
He glanced at her and nodded. Not the enthusiastic welcome she was hoping for.
‘You on your own this morning?’
‘Yep.’ There was a distinct sour edge to his voice.
Her smile shook a little at the corners. ‘So, where’s your partner in crime?’
Peering at the pretty young woman in front of him, Sam gave a look that said ‘that’d be right’ and growled, ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Sighing, he added, ‘Byron was kind enough to lay out all the crockery and stuff last night, but I haven’t seen ’im this morning.’ And with that, he bustled back to the kitchen with an armload of empty trays.
The smile sank like a stone from her lips as she chided herself, make up your mind, nut-job! Either you want to see Byron or you don’t. Grabbing a plate, she started chucking toast, grilled tomato, hash browns, mushrooms, bacon and scrambled eggs onto it.
‘Wow, I thought I was hungry!’ Connie exclaimed as she joined her daughter. ‘Is one lifetime enough for you to eat all that, or are you taking the ancient Egyptian approach and also preparing for the afterlife?’
Stopping mid-scoop to stare at her close-to-overflowing plate, Claire-Rose mumbled, ‘Oops, guess I was a bit heavy-handed.’ A pink flush crept into her face.
Connie’s brow furrowed as she took in her flustered daughter. Picking up a plate, she held it out. ‘Here, put some of that on mine.’
Seated at the table, nattering with the other guests, Connie kept an eye on her daughter. Seeing her picking half-heartedly at her food, she grew increasingly certain something was amiss.
‘So, Connie, what’s on the agenda for your first day here?’ Jill enquired, lingering over her percolated coffee.
‘Probably a “nana nap” this afternoon, to recover from a shatteringly early start!’ Connie chuckled. ‘But this morning I’ll tour the castle and grounds. And tonight I want to have dinner in the dining room, of course.’
Claire-Rose dropped her fork with a clatter. ‘I thought we’d have dinner in town tonight, Mum? There’s this great little Italian café—’
‘Oh, but I’m dying to experience a castle dinner, love, after everything you’ve told me about them. And we can go to the Italian place tomorrow night.’
To which Claire-Rose forced a smile.
‘Here’s a map of the castle, Mum. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’
‘You’ve seen it all before, darling. I don’t expect you to go through the motions again just for me. And didn’t you say you wanted to check your emails?’
Claire-Rose gave a distracted nod. ‘Yeah, I’m waiting for the office to let me know the start date for the new appointee. The guy we interviewed the day before I started holidays, remember?’
‘Oh yes, right.’ Connie grinned and squeezed her daughter’s arm. ‘Well, you feel free to bury your nose in your laptop while I take my sweet time wandering the castle.’
As her mother strolled away, pausing once or twice to sniff the roses bordering the path, Claire-Rose took a deep breath and then headed to her room to collect her laptop. The garden was the place to be, she decided, in the filtered morning sun on the park bench, her favourite spot. Hers and Byron’s, she found herself thinking before giving herself a mental slap.
Sitting breathing in the fresh, slightly salty air, Claire-Rose felt brighter. It was hard to stay gloomy on a beautiful morning like this. Firmly pushing aside her more negative thoughts, she switched on her computer and waited for it to boot up. Leaning back to let the dappled sun dance on her skin and glow warmly off her shining hair, she closed her eyes to drink in the morning’s pleasures.
Only to jump at the sound of something rushing past, breathing hard.
Make that two things.
The second was a large black dog, a Doberman or similar, running flat-out. Its ears were forward, its rapacious eyes intent upon its prey. At the sight of the tabby streak dashing ahead of the dog’s slobbering jaws, Claire-Rose sprang to her feet. That horrid dog, an uninvited visitor assumedly, was chasing Topaz!
Oh no you don’t.
Shoving the computer off her lap and onto the seat, she leapt into a sprint, stretching her gait to follow the animals as they raced along the path. Flying around a corner, she saw a tiring Topaz, with the dog not far behind, scoot into Byron’s shed. With only the briefest of hesitations, she scampered in after them.
When her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, she saw Topaz cowering behind a pile of boxes. The dog was worrying the closest carton, tearing at the cardboard with its teeth, trying to get to the cat.
‘Get away from him, you mutt!’
The dog whipped around at the sound of her voice. Startled by her approach, it hastily backed away, and when she stomped her foot in its direction it turned stumpy tail and ran.
‘That’s right, you big coward!’ she yelled after it. ‘Not so brave now, are you?’
Satisfied the dog was gone, she turned to where Topaz crouched, fat-tailed and with his fur in a vertical line down his back. He’d wormed his way into a spider-webbed, dusty corner near the Ducati’s front tyre. ‘C’mon buddy,’ she crooned, reaching for him, ‘the stupid mutt’s gone. You can come out now.’ She was rewarded with a warning hiss as the cat continued anxiously scanning for its canine attacker.
‘Hey, it’s me, Topaz. C’mon.’ Her head jerked at the nearby bang of a door. And when Byron’s muffled voice floated across from the cottage, she turned back to the cat, urging in a harsh whisper, ‘Oh come on, Topaz, let’s get out of here. Before Byron finds us snooping around in his shed!’ Reaching into the corner, she grabbed the still-traumatised cat. He hissed again and instinctively dug his claws into what looked like an old rug, partly-buried in the dirt floor.
‘Let go, buddy.’ She gave a tug and he lost his grip, but not before dragging the rug part-way out of the dirt. Seeing that, she stomped the disturbed earth flat with a foot, murmuring, ‘We don’t want Byron to know someone’s been here, ’specially not me.’ Holding the cat close, she hurried out of the shed and back to her unit.
When Byron leaned over to serve their entrees, Connie nodded her thanks as she studied him, taking in his slicked-back hair, fine, handsome features, and wide shoulders in the stylish butler garb. She waited for him to move away before whispering, too loudly for Claire-Rose’s comfort, ‘You didn’t tell me he was this gorgeous! He reminds me of that good-looking actor, the one with the nice physique. You know, in that movie with the guys in tight green outfits....’ She frowned in concentration.
Claire-Rose sighed. ‘You mean Ryan Reynolds in the Green Lantern movie?’
‘Yes! That’s who Byron reminds me of.’
‘I suppose they do look a bit alike....’
Connie’s eyes held a mischievous gleam. ‘This Byron of yours is quite deli
ghtful. But Kris....’
‘He’s not my Byron, Mum, not by a very long shot. And what about Kris?’ Claire-Rose’s voice was sharp, reflecting her discomfort. She glanced at Byron from under her lashes, thinking it was worse for him. As butler, he had no choice but to ‘serve them with a smile’.
Connie gave an exasperated ‘Tsk’, and rolled her eyes. Her tone dripped with feigned innocence when she murmured, ‘Only that he’s back from overseas.’ Leaning over her soup bowl, she crooned, ‘Mmm, this soup smells divine. No wonder you wanted to stay on, if the food’s this good all the time.’
Claire-Rose gave a snort and shook her head. About to plunge her spoon into the delicate swirl of sour cream and dusting of nutmeg in the centre of her pumpkin vichyssoise, she felt her mother’s eyes on her again.
‘You’re very subdued, my darling. Is something wrong?’
Pausing to twirl the spoon in her fingers and look at her reflection in its polished surface, she said wearily, ‘No ... I’m just … tired.’ She dropped the spoon and picked up her wine glass.
‘What’s made you so tired?’ Without taking her eyes off her daughter, Connie took a bite of a home-baked bread roll spread with whipped New Zealand butter.
‘I think all the sight-seeing has worn me out.’ Claire-Rose gave a half-hearted chuckle. ‘I went on a tour yesterday that took in a historical house, the botanical gardens, and some other city highlights. If you get the chance you should do the tours while you’re here, they’re a great way to see the place.’
‘Not if they wear me out they way they have you!’
‘Oh, Mu—’
‘More wine, madam?’ Byron stood at Connie’s elbow with a bottle of red in one hand and white in the other.
‘Please. I’ll have the red.’ As she held out her glass for refilling, Connie threw a wide-eyed isn’t he delightful? glance at Claire-Rose, who groaned inwardly.
‘And the white for you, miss?’
She took a hasty peek at him. Despite the stiffness of his smile and his hooded, unreadable eyes, having him so near took her breath away. Lifting her glass with a dismayingly unsteady hand she stuttered, ‘Y-yes … thanks … B-Byron,’ and then bowed her head so he wouldn’t see her wince.
After filling her glass, he gave a polite nod and moved on.
‘Do I sense sparks and a prickly atmosphere between you two?’ Connie regarded her daughter with keenly perceptive, probing eyes.
‘Now who’s imagining things?’ And before her mother could pursue the subject, Claire-Rose launched into conversation with Sally and Alan Jenkins seated opposite.
When Byron came into the dining room again to clear the table, Claire-Rose hurried to finish her soup. Connie’s bowl was wiped clean and she was already waiting expectantly for the next course.
Leaning over to take their bowls, Byron enquired casually in his deep voice, ‘I hope you enjoyed your entrées, ladies?’
Claire-Rose caught the scent of his familiar aftershave, and was transported to his cosy lounge room and the shabby but comfortable sofa they’d shared on more than one occasion. Her pulse quickened and she growled silently at herself for letting her mind wander, especially along that dangerous path.
‘Please give the chef our compliments,’ Connie was saying, ‘that was the best soup I’ve eaten in a long time.’
‘I’ll be happy to. And are you enjoying your stay with us?’
‘Very much so, thank you.’
‘What do you think of our castle?’
Claire-Rose couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her imagination giving his words an ironic twist. She glanced at him but his carefully non-committal expression gave nothing away.
‘Marvellous, simply marvellous. I spent most of the day exploring it.’
Claire-Rose cringed inwardly. She could imagine Byron thinking, how nice for you ... enjoying a pleasant inspection of the castle you’re planning to buy out from under us. And his eyes did indeed narrow for the briefest instant before he veiled them again.
Murmuring, ‘Very good, madam,’ he moved on.
‘So what do you have planned for tomorrow, Connie?’ Sally enquired from across the table.
‘Claire-Rose is abandoning me in favour of galloping around the hills on a hired hack, doing her Annie Oakley impersonation.’ Connie gave a sniff of mock disdain. ‘So I’m a free agent.’ She winked at her daughter and received a roll of topaz-coloured eyes in response, which only made her snort and grin wider. ‘She recommended the harbour cruise, so if the weather’s nice, I might take her advice.’
‘Vas is dis “hack” you speak of?’ a fascinated Thomas interjected.
There were soft chuckles from around the table and Connie replied, ‘Hack is another name for horse, of which my daughter has an excellent model at home. Why she’d want to be bothered with a worn-out, flea-bitten, hired plodder is beyond me.’
‘Mum,’ Claire-Rose scolded, ‘they’re not all like that, and this place comes highly recommended. When they found out I can ride, they even offered me their schooled warm blood for tomorrow.’
‘Well, if you say so, my love. Oh, and Razoo’s fine, by the way. I called into the livery stable to check on him right before I left to come here.’
Claire-Rose nodded her thanks as Thomas spoke again.
‘So, vun hires a horse ... er ... hack, like vun hires a car?’
‘That’s right, Thomas.’
‘Undt vere is zis place?’
‘Right next door to the castle,’ Claire-Rose said brightly. ‘The ride takes in the peninsula and its fabulous scenery. Would you and Selena be interested in coming along in the morning?’
‘Danke, but ve are doing ze harbour cruise.’
‘Well that settles it,’ Connie announced, ‘call me cruising tomorrow.’
As Sally and Alan launched into glowing descriptions of the harbour’s highlights, Byron finished piling the soup bowls on his trolley, and quietly wheeled it into the kitchen.
Chapter Twenty
Horsing Around
‘Hi Mum, come on in.’ Flinging the door open, Claire-Rose gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek before dashing back into the bedroom. ‘Sorry about this ... gotta finish dressing. I’m running late. Took too long over breakfast,’ she added breathlessly.
‘So you’ve eaten already?’
‘Yep, I had to make an early start this morning.’
‘Oh darn, I was looking forward to our having breakfast together again. Why didn’t you come get me?’
‘I wanted to let you sleep.’ Claire-Rose appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, pulling on a long-sleeved polo shirt. ‘You’re on holiday, remember? And still recuperating.’
‘Recuperating? Pish posh!’ When her daughter once again disappeared, Connie gave an affected sigh and raised her voice. ‘Well, I’ll go for breakfast and leave you to it, shall I?’
‘Thanks Mum,’ floated from the other room. ‘Have fun today, won’t you.’
‘You too.’ Pausing at the door, Connie called out, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m once again living up to my reputation of being a fast worker.’ She gave a tinkling chuckle.
The sounds of movement in the other room abruptly subsided. Claire-Rose sat silent and unmoving on the edge of the bed, one foot raised, a sock in her hands, and the toothbrush in her mouth dripping white froth onto her jodhpurs. She was remembering the celebratory drink at Gino’s Café, when Byron grinned at her and whispered, ‘What kind of fast worker do they think I am?’ Blinking hard, she swallowed the lump in her throat, tossed the sock onto the floor beside her riding boots, and hurried into the en suite to finish cleaning her teeth.
‘Did you hear me, love?’ Connie stood with one hand on the doorknob, gazing toward the bedroom.
Claire-Rose whipped the toothbrush out of her mouth long enough to shout semi-coherently with a splatter of froth, ‘Thorry Mum, gotta rush. I’m late-late-late! Can we talk when I get back?’
‘Of course.’ With an indulgent smile, Connie stepped into t
he corridor, calling over her shoulder, ‘Bye love, you be safe now.’
The chocolate brown gelding nuzzled her with his black nose as she slipped the bridle over his handsome head and fastened the throat strap. ‘You’re a beautiful boy, Abraham,’ Claire-Rose murmured, rubbing the white star between his eyes.
He stood quietly while she finished saddling him, but tossed his head and gave an expectant snort and a stomp of a front hoof when she slipped her foot into the stirrup and lifted herself lightly into the saddle.
‘Wow, you’re taller than Raz, big fella!’ She bent to adjust the stirrups as the guide ambled up on his liver chestnut quarter horse, enquiring pleasantly, ‘We right to go?’
‘Lead the way.’
‘Just watch Abe, he likes to stretch ’is legs.’
Claire-Rose smiled and patted her mount’s velvety neck. ‘We’re a good match then.’
There were only two other people in the group that morning, both experienced riders. One was on a showy anglo arab with a wide blaze and four white socks, while the other rode a high-stepping brown thoroughbred.
‘Someone else’ll be joining us, but we won’t wait around. He knows the route, he can just catch up. This’ll be fun,’ the guide added enthusiastically, ‘we’ll be able to do more than the usual nose-to-tail sleep-walk the whole way. C’mon, then, let’s go!’ He urged his horse into a lope and the other three riders followed. A grey thoroughbred in a small yard by the saddling enclosure called loudly after them as it charged around, pig-rooting and rearing at the fence, clearly unhappy at being left behind.
At the pressure of Claire-Rose’s legs against his side, Abraham gave a swish of his long tail and tossed his head again. But feeling her firm, confident hold on the reins, he tucked in his chin and moved off with an even, collected gait.
Whispering, ‘Good lad,’ at his pricked ears, she leaned forward to stroke his neck. ‘If you’re a good boy, we’ll have a pipe-opening gallop later.’
