by Allen, Anne
i
Anne Allen
The Family Divided
The Guernsey Novels Book 4
Sarnia Press
London
ii
Copyright © 2015 Anne Allen The moral right of Anne Allen to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and
Patent Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without
permission in writing from the publisher. Sarnia Press Unit 1, 1 Sans Walk London EC1R
0LT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and
events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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One family, divided by death – and money
Andy Batiste, at loggerheads with his reprobate cousin, seeks to discover the truth of his
family history. Why was his pregnant grandmother forced to flee to France? What really
happened to her husband during the German Occupation, sixty years ago? Who accused
Edmund, the elder son and Batiste heir, of being an informer? Was he really a traitor –
and who murdered him?
With Edmund’s brother Harold now head of the family, enjoying the wealth which ought
to have come to Andy’s father, the family is forever divided. Andy yearns to clear
Edmund’s name and restore his father to his rightful inheritance.
Into the conflict comes Charlotte Townsend, newly divorced, lonely and struggling with
writer’s block and the consuming threat of impending loss. She returns for healing at
Guernsey's natural health centre, La Folie, and becomes involved in Andy’s family
affairs.
Together they embark on a hunt for the truth…
“A house divided against itself cannot stand”
Abraham Lincoln
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The Family Divided
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
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The Family Divided
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
About the Author
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The Family Divided
chapter one
2009
The small boat bobbed up and down as the waves splashed gently against the sides and the two men on board
adjusted their rods.
‘I heard your cousin Dave is up for assault again, hurting the other guy pretty bad, so they say,’ Jim Batiste
remarked, fitting a chunk of bread on his line. ‘He could go down again for it.’
The familiar anger coursed through Andy’s veins. ‘Dave’s always been a waste of space. He brings the family
name into more disrepute than my grandfather ever did. And he was innocent,’ he growled, the image of his
cousin’s grinning face overlaying his father’s in front of him. He had history with Dave, the cocky grandson of his
great uncle. When they met as boys Dave had been quick to remind him how he was the one from the wealthy
side of the family and Andy was a nobody. The taunts had inevitably led to fights which Dave, bigger and heavier
and playing dirty, always won. As the image faded Andy watched his father throw out the line with an expert
flick. Something he had never managed as well, in spite of hours of Jim’s patient tuition.
His father screwed up his eyes against the sun, checking the float was where he had meant it to be. Satisfied,
he turned to his son.
‘You’re right about Dave. It’s a good thing his father didn’t live to see how he turned out. The trouble is that
mother of his has spoiled him rotten. Never had a firm hand. Not like you,’ he said, grinning.
‘Right there, Dad! I never got away with anything. And Mum was just as strict,’ Andy said, straight-faced.
They both laughed. His mother, Yvette, was a pussy cat where her only child was concerned.
Andy threw his own line over the side of the boat and, for once, the rod made a graceful arc over the water.
Settling back on his canvas stool, he allowed himself a moment to admire the sandy bay of Moulin Huet basking
in the warm September sun. He liked this spot where his father’s boat was anchored; just in from the Mouillière
rock. When he was a boy his parents had often picnicked on the beach and he loved to swim out to the rock to
prove how strong a swimmer he was.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve seen Dave in a while, have you?’ His father’s voice brought him back from his happy
memories.
‘I’m not likely to, am I? Not only does he spend much of his time incarcerated in Les Nicolles with the other
island reprobates, but when he’s out he wouldn’t speak to me any more than I would him. I despise his family for
what they did to my grandmother and…and you and Mum,’ he said, aware of a hot tide of anger flowing to his
head. That bloody family! Somehow they had swindled his father out of the Batiste estate, and hadn’t even
acknowledged him as one of the family. Under Guernsey law at the time, as the eldest son, Jim’s father Edmund
would have inherited the whole lot after old man Neville died if he hadn’t been killed so young. After his death
Jim was the natural successor, not Dave’s grandfather Harold, the younger brother.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he studied his father, now engrossed in lighting his pipe. A wiry sixty-
four-year-old, with hands calloused from years of hauling fishing nets, his face bore more lines than usual. He
looked tired and Andy wondered if his back was bad again and wrecking his sleep. He should never have had to
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The Family Divided
work so bloody hard! If it wasn’t for that bastard Harold … Feeling his chest tighten again, he took another deep
breath before saying, ‘Dad, I wish you’d explain why you weren’t acknowledged as the natural heir when you
arrived from France and–’
Jim’s eyes flashed. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I’m not prepared to discuss it! Ever. It’s history and
not your business.’
‘But it is my business! Apart from the fact I’d have liked to see you and Mum enjoying the comfortable
lifestyle you were entitled to, I’d have not had to endure the taunts of being poor from the boys at school,
including that…that toerag Dave.’ Andy fo
ught hard to control his temper. He didn’t want to fall out with his
father, particularly when they were fishing together, always something he enjoyed.
Jim seemed to shrink in front of his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, lad, for what you had to put up with. It’s not what I
wanted or expected when your mother and I came over here. But can we put it aside for now and concentrate on
the fishing? I’d been looking forward to coming out with you today,’ he said, a pleading look in his eyes.
Andy nodded, reluctantly accepting once again the subject was closed. For now. But perhaps one day…
A strong pull on his rod announced he had caught something.
‘Dad, I’ve got the first bite! And I reckon it’s a big one.’ He managed a smile as he reeled in the line, the anger
easing with the chance of a catch.
‘Good on you, lad. We might have fish for supper after all,’ Jim said, puffing on his pipe.
Andy had to hold on tight as the fish fought to free itself but slowly he won the battle and reeled in a dark
grey slithering fish, grabbing it quickly as it landed on deck.
‘Black bream. A good weight too. About 3lbs, I reckon. Make a good supper, it will.’
Andy grinned at his father as he expertly pulled the hook from the fish’s mouth and dropped it in the water
bucket.
‘Do you want it for you and Mum? Or are you planning on catching your own supper?’ he asked, his grin
broadening.
Jim was saved from answering as his own line gave a quick pull and he braced himself to reel in his catch. The
fish flashed silver in the sun as it was dragged through the water.
‘Grey mullet, about 4lbs,’ muttered Jim as he finally grabbed the fish and, after removing the hook, dropped it
in the bucket with the bream.
‘So neither of us will go hungry tonight, Dad. Happy to stay a bit longer and stock up the freezer?’
Jim nodded. ‘Not too long, though. My back’s been playing up lately. I don’t want to have to pay a visit to the
osteopath again. He charges an arm and a leg and I’m not convinced it does me much good.’
Andy knew his father did not have much spare cash; his only income was the State Pension and his wife’s
meagre earnings. And he was too proud to accept financial help from his son.
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The Family Divided
‘I’ve an idea, Dad. I’m on good terms with the people running the health spa in Torteval. If you remember, I
was the architect for the renovation and extension. How about if I ask if someone could take a look at your back?
As a bit of a favour to me. I’ve heard good reports about the therapies they offer,’ Andy said, keeping his fingers
crossed his father would agree. If there was a charge, he would pay it without his father knowing.
‘I don’t know,’ Jim said, frowning. ‘Sounds a big favour to me. And what if I needed more than one treatment?
You can’t expect them to keep seeing people for nothing.’
‘No, but it wouldn’t hurt to let me ask, would it? You never know, one session might be all you need if the
right person takes a look at you.’
‘Suppose not. It would be good not to be in pain as much.’
‘Right it’s agreed, then. I’ll give Paul a ring and see what he says. Now, shall we have a little bet on who
catches the most fish?’ Andy said, pleased his father had agreed. Sort of.
‘Cheeky devil! You know I’m a better fisherman than you, any day. You’ll be throwing your money away, I
warn you,’ Jim said, with a grin.
They settled down to their fishing and, two hours later, Jim was the undoubted winner at five fish to Andy’s
three. After handing over the sum of two pounds to settle the bet, Andy helped his father to clear their gear away
before Jim took the wheel and started the engine. Andy sat quietly in the stern while his father steered the boat
around the coast towards Bordeaux Harbour in the north of the island. Guernsey’s south coast was rocky and
the cliffs loomed above them as they motored onwards.
Andy felt the remnants of his recent anger rise again as they approached Telegraph Bay. The place where,
sixty years ago during the German Occupation, his grandfather, Edmund, having been branded a traitor by his
brother Harold, had been pushed to his death.
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The Family Divided
chapter two
As the plane started the descent into Guernsey, Charlotte gazed out of the window, eager to spot any familiar
landmarks. Not that she knew the island very well, having only spent a mere few weeks here in the early spring.
She was just relieved to be arriving on the island with the prospect of being amongst friends. The past few
months had not been easy and she hoped the change of scene and the pampering at the retreat would bring
much needed clarity. A chance to look forward and not back. Catching a glimpse of what could be La Folie, she
smiled.
‘You look happy, dear. Returning home are you?’ asked her neighbour, an older woman clad in layers of
woolly jumpers in spite of the mild September weather.
‘No I’m not, actually. But I’ve been here before and loved it. I’m staying at the new retreat, La Folie.’
‘My! I’ve heard it’s quite something. One of my nieces works there. Helps in the kitchen, she does. Not cheap
though, is it? You need a few bob to stay there,’ she said, giving Charlotte an appraising look.
‘Yes, well, it’s worth it. And the food is outstanding, so do please pass on my thanks to your niece.’ Charlotte
flashed the woman a quick smile, aware she was being judged by her clothes and probably her accent. She knew
she looked what she was: a successful, elegant businesswoman. But inside she held a knot of tension, desperate
to uncoil and feel at ease. The reason she was here.
The woman nodded before releasing her seatbelt and standing up. Within minutes the passengers were filing
into the terminal and those collecting their luggage encircled the carousel. Charlotte lifted off her case and
wheeled it through to arrivals.
‘Charlotte! At last!’ cried Louisa, waving frantically before engulfing her in a hug.
As the two women drew apart, faces wreathed in smiles, Charlotte felt a release of some of the tension.
‘Come on, we can chat in the car,’ Louisa said, linking arms as they walked towards the exit. Louisa steered
her to a snazzy blue convertible with the roof tucked away in the boot.
‘Like the car.’ Charlotte grinned as Louisa stored the case.
‘Thanks. I love the feel of the wind in my hair, don’t you? Okay let’s go, La Folie here we come.’
Charlotte had time to study her friend while Louisa was engaged in negotiating the exit from the airport.
Physically there was little difference since they had last met in May, but with Louisa’s long blond hair tied back
in a ponytail, Charlotte saw the slight downturn to her mouth and the lack of sparkle in her eyes . Something was
not quite right. And her guess was it was to do with Paul…
‘So, how are things? When we’ve spoken on the phone you’ve said how much you love your house, but not a
lot about Paul and the job.’
Louisa turned her head, sighing.
‘Everything’s sort of fine between us, we’re just finding it difficult to spend a lot of time together. Something
Paul promised wouldn’t be an issue.’
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The Family Divided
‘Didn’t you say the centre was taking on extra therapists to take the pressure off him?’
‘Yes, and that’
s happened. We have another yoga teacher and I share the physio work with the original
therapist, Trevor. So in theory all should be fine. But…’ She shrugged, focusing back on the road.
‘We can chat later. How’s Malcolm? Heard from him lately?’
Louisa’s look of pain told her the answer.
‘Not for a couple of weeks. He did say he might be off grid for a while and not to worry. Easier said than done
when it’s your father. Particularly after his mini-stroke…’
‘Hey! Stop worrying. If there was anything wrong you’d have heard. And he’s a pretty tough cookie, so cheer
up. I’ve been looking forward to coming over and spending some time with you.’
Louisa must have heard the slight rebuke in her voice and she flashed a smile.
‘Sorry. I’m very happy you’re here and I intend to spend as much of my free time with you as I can. Now,
how’s the book going? You’ve not said anything about it on the phone.’
‘That’s because it’s not going well. I’ve done loads of research, to the extent I could enter Mastermind with my
speciality subject of Emma, Lady Hamilton and wipe the field,’ she said, frowning. ‘But I can’t seem to get to grips
with the fictional characters. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m cut out to be a writer after all.’ The knot of tension
grew tighter as she said out loud what she’d been thinking for weeks.
‘Mm. Why don’t you get in touch with Jeanne? You two seemed to hit it off that time in Sark and I’m sure she’d
be happy to give you some pointers.’
‘Good thinking. As a published author of fiction and non-fiction she’s perfect.’ Charlotte had forgotten about
Jeanne and the thought of talking through her problem with her lifted her spirits. Then she remembered
something. ‘Ah, wasn’t she due to have another baby last month?’
‘Yep, she had a little girl, Freya. Very cute and adored by her big brother, Harry.’
‘Wonderful! But she’s going to be up to her eyes in nappies and everything so won’t have much time for
