by Sasha Morgan
‘I… I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she croaked weakly.
‘Nothing wrong? You came into my home, admitted “researching” me to the point of obsession, you exposed yourself to me, propositioned me, then threatened me.’ His glare bored into her, making her tremble slightly. She licked her lips nervously.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘Here’s the deal. You are going to delete all the footage of my interview.’
‘What? I can’t do that!’ she rasped.
‘Oh, I think you can, Vera. Your reputation and career depend upon it.’
‘How? I can’t just erase stuff like that. It’s with Len and Libby, probably Marcus, too, by now.’
‘Then you’d better gain access to it all somehow and destroy it. The interview with my brother and the filming inside the Hall and grounds you can keep.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ she replied with sarcasm.
‘You’re welcome,’ he nodded back with a tight smile.
He threw the envelope at her. Inside was a copy of the report, but he’d kept the original. ‘Read it for yourself. Don’t be a fool. You do as I say and keep well away from me and my family, or else I’ll have you slammed behind prison bars. Got it?’
Viola took the envelope with a shaking hand. Tears threatened to spill, tears of shock, anger and frustration; not of regret.
41
Finula had never been so happy. She’d always loved Christmas, ever since she was a child, and watching her dad haul out the decorations from the loft, her excitement grew. She was standing at the bottom of the ladder, being passed each of the dusty boxes full of trimmings.
‘I think that’s everything,’ said Dermot, as he shone his torch round the dark, musty loft cavity.
‘Let’s get cracking then!’ Finula picked up a couple of boxes and made her way down to the bar. She’d need to start decorating in there first, ready for that night’s Christmas Cocktail Evening. Every year The Templar would celebrate the first weekend in December by having a cocktail evening when, for the first hour, the drinks were half price. It was always a huge success, bringing the village together at the start of the festive season.
Finula’s imagination had spun into overdrive, inventing cocktails with a Christmas theme. Obviously, there would be the old favourite drinks of sherry and mulled wine, but her more creative Christmas cocktails were notorious, from the Sexy Santa’s Snowballs, consisting of cognac, almond milk, double cream and crème de cacao, or the Ding Dong Merrily, with oranges, cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves and gin, to the Templar Tipsy Tipple with cranberry juice, citrus vodka, syrup and prosecco. It was an evening full of fun and laughter, and her favourite time to work. Tonight would be extra special as Marcus had volunteered his services behind the bar.
‘Are you sure?’ Finula asked him, not convinced he fully knew what he was letting himself in for.
‘Sure. I’ve worked in a bar before. How do you think I survived as a student?’
‘Good man, yourself,’ butted in Dermot, overhearing, and he slapped Marcus heartily on the back. So that settled it. Marcus would be joining them, serving drinks to a packed pub.
It pleased Finula that her dad clearly liked Marcus, and she loved it that the two of them chatted easily together. Dermot had approved of Finula staying with Marcus in Shropshire, glad that she’d taken some well-deserved time out. Christmas was playing on his mind slightly, though – would his daughter choose to go to Shropshire again? The thought of spending Christmas alone wasn’t a comforting one, but he’d never let his feelings show. Finula had a life of her own now and she deserved to be as happy as she evidently was. Secretly, he was also pleased that the centre of Finula’s attention was Irish, and even from the same county as himself. The link made it extra special.
‘So, what time do I report for duty?’ Marcus asked.
‘At 7 p.m. sharp,’ replied Finula with a grin, then waved a set of antlers at him that she’d dug out from a box, ‘and don’t forget to wear these.’
‘Really?’ Marcus looked horrified, making Finula chuckle.
‘No. Not if you don’t want to,’ she reasoned.
‘You can wear one of my Christmas jumpers instead,’ Dermot called over his shoulder, as he went back up the stairs for the rest of the decorations.
Once alone, Marcus grabbed Finula to him and kissed her long and hard. ‘I’ve been dying to do that all morning,’ he whispered huskily into her ear.
Finula giggled. ‘Any other urges?’
Marcus nuzzled her neck. ‘You bet. Is it your bed or mine tonight? I’ve no intention of sleeping another night alone with you under the same roof, darlin’.’
Finula had been wondering how that might pan out, picturing either herself or Marcus creeping clandestinely into the other’s room. She wouldn’t want to be caught red-handed by Viola or any other of the crew. Then again, how would her dad react to Marcus slinking into her bedroom?
Deciding for her, Marcus said, ‘I’ll come to you. I can be very discreet when I want to be.’
Finula believed him, and he could be secretive, too. On the one or two occasions when she’d tried to raise the issue of him crying in front of her, he’d brushed it away, refusing to talk about it, and it was beginning to worry her. There was evidently some problem he refused to share. He was obviously hiding something but what? When she had asked openly about his dad, the response was hardly what she had expected. He had simply clammed up. It was patently clear how close he must have been to his mother and the devastating affect her death had had on him. She imagined him caring for her towards the end of her life and her heart cried out for him. He’d done it all alone, with no brother or sister to support him. Despite his cool and calm outward appearance, his successful career and controlled poise, he was underneath a vulnerable man, with, she believed a troubled mind.
*
Dylan had just filled the bath with hot water, glistening with bubbles. He was looking forward to having a good soak after a hectic day at the yard. He heard Flora in the adjoining bedroom and poked his head through the door.
‘Hey, come and join me.’ His blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.
They were getting ready to go to The Templar that evening. Flora, too, found the thought of relaxing in a long, hot bath tempting.
‘You know, I think I will,’ she smiled back.
Within minutes she was lying between Dylan’s muscular legs, having her back gently scrubbed.
‘Hmm, that’s lovely,’ she purred, loving the soft feel of his hands against her skin. He pulled her hair to one side and kissed her neck.
‘We should do this more often,’ he said, as his kisses reached her shoulders. Flora closed her eyes in bliss.
‘We should,’ she agreed.
‘Flora, I’ve been thinking about your birthday.’
‘Yes?’
‘How would you like a big bash to celebrate your twenty-first?’
There was a silence. Dylan frowned. Had he said the wrong thing?
‘To be honest, it wouldn’t feel right, with my parents being away.’
‘Oh…’ Had he been tactless?
‘I’d rather celebrate, just the two of us.’
Whilst flattered, he couldn’t help but feel she deserved more. Then he dully realised that what she really wanted was to keep Phoenix. That would be the icing on the cake, not some booze-up without her family. Once again, his mind mulled over the predicament. He pulled her onto his chest and hugged her.
‘Fine, just the two of us then,’ he murmured, whilst his hands began to wander over her breasts.
*
Back at the Hall, Megan was wearing a black dress that hid her bump rather flatteringly. She rounded it off with a fine silver woollen shawl. Tobias was waiting for her in the drawing room, sipping a brandy. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to going to The Templar that night. He usually enjoyed the Christmas Cocktail Evening, but this time there would be company there he could well do without – the tele
vision crew. Good riddance to them when they finally left Treweham in a few days’ time. It couldn’t come soon enough for him.
‘Right, I’m ready.’ Megan entered the room.
Tobias looked towards his wife and all his worries and unhappiness evaporated. Megan looked radiant in pregnancy. She was positively glowing and he could burst with pride when seeing her beautiful, round belly, swelling with his child.
‘You look wonderful.’ He stood up and drained his drink. ‘Let’s go. Sebastian said he’d drive tonight.’
‘Really? Won’t he want to drink?’
‘Apparently not.’ Tobias agreed, it was a little strange that his brother had volunteered to take them all to The Templar, when usually he’d be downing the cocktails. Come to think of it, Sebastian had been rather subdued for a while now.
*
As expected, The Templar was packed to the rafters. Slade were belting out their Christmas hits, as Dermot, Finula and Marcus served drinks at break-neck speed to all the merry locals. Despite being made to wear a ridiculous reindeer sweater, Marcus was actually enjoying himself. The pub was trimmed with holly and ivy, a Christmas tree sparkled in the corner and the inglenook fire crackled invitingly. The atmosphere was buoyant and the cocktails were being knocked back with cheer and gusto.
‘Hey, glad you made it!’ called Finula to Megan, Tobias and Sebastian as they entered the bar.
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ replied Megan. She turned to Marcus and smiled. He smiled back, then nodded towards Tobias standing next to her. Sebastian had gone off to join Jamie further down the pub. Tobias nodded back coolly. Arrogant shite, thought Marcus, not for the first time. Then he noticed how warmly he greeted Finula and Dermot. The contrast was almost embarrassing.
‘Busy then?’ he grinned at Finula.
‘It’s a madhouse! But I love it,’ she laughed.
Marcus turned away to serve someone at the end of the bar. He was glad to go, feeling uncomfortable watching Tobias, Megan and Finula chat closely together. He suddenly felt an outsider and, to make matters worse, Dylan and Flora had just joined them. It was obvious how well they all got on, judging by their easy chatter and laughter. Marcus caught sight of Finula out of the corner of his eye as he poured another cocktail. There was no denying her contentment, being here with her friends. Then it dawned on him, like the warning of a death knell. How was Finula going to react once she’d seen the documentary? She had been angry enough just listening to Tobias’ interview, so what would she make of the editing? He had reassured her that only he could endorse the finished film. His mouth went dry. He glanced again at the girl who had come to mean so much to him and he considered for the first time the pain of losing her.
Finula was fiery, passionate but, above all, loyal. Look how faithful she was towards her dad and The Templar, always putting herself last. How would she respond to someone casting her close friend in such a bad light? Then another dark thought struck him. What would Dermot think? This was the first time Marcus had allowed himself to stop and taken stock of his actions. The adrenalin of revenge had now disappeared and a sad, empty feeling had replaced it, making his eyes mist over with emotion.
‘You OK, son?’ Dermot asked, looking concerned.
Marcus’ head shot up. ‘Yeah, fine.’ He quickly finished mixing the drinks and handed them over the bar.
Further down the bar, Viola was on her guard. Closely watching her colleagues enjoying themselves drinking back the cocktails, she told herself this was the time to make her move. She urgently needed to gain access to Len, Libby and Marcus’ rooms. If Tobias had truly meant what he had threatened – and there was no doubt in her mind that he did – then she had to move fast.
Luckily Viola could be extremely resourceful when she needed to be. That morning she had noticed the cleaning staff were using a skeleton key card to enter each room. She had cunningly followed one cleaner after she’d finished all her duties and looked where she had put it, in the reception desk, second drawer on the right. Waiting till after the first cocktail hour, when everyone was getting nicely sozzled, she hastily made her way to the desk and got the key card.
Quickly, she made her way up the stairs. She knew her actions could cost her her career, but then again, if she didn’t delete the interview footage from the cameras and laptops, she could end up behind prison bars, and her career would be ruined then anyway. Fortunately, the team shared passwords to access one another’s work, as they were using laptops allocated to them, not personal ones. With a pounding heart and trembling hands, Viola did what she had to do.
*
Dylan noticed Gary and Tracy Belcher enter The Templar. He’d always liked them, finding their down-to-earth ways endearing. Several months ago they’d hosted a dinner party, which he’d been invited to and had thoroughly enjoyed their company. Dylan called them over and Gary shook hands with him.
‘Hiya, mate, how you doing?’ Gary’s northern accent stood out, making Dylan smile.
‘Fine, thanks, Gary, and you? Tracy, you look lovely as always.’ He kissed her cheek, making her blush slightly.
‘How’s the training yard going?’ she asked politely.
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Don’t you ever miss racing?’ Gary asked.
‘Sometimes, yes,’ nodded Dylan.
Gary, who was always up for a party, suddenly suggested, ‘We should arrange a day at the races. It’d be fun.’
‘Oh, yes!’ cheered Tracy.
Dylan laughed. ‘The next big meeting will be the Tingle Creek Chase at Sandown.’
‘Sounds great. I really fancy going. What do you say, Dylan?’
‘Why not?’ Dylan replied, loving his enthusiasm.
‘Do you know, I wouldn’t mind learning to ride.’ Gary looked thoughtful.
Dylan burst out laughing. ‘You might want to lose some timber first.’ He looked over Gary’s bulging waistline.
‘What you saying?’ Gary pretended to look offended.
‘That you’re too fat to ride a horse,’ cut in Tracy drily, making the two men laugh out loud.
It had given Dylan an idea, though, one that could just be the answer to his problem.
42
Sebastian had received another appointment to see the neurologist, to discuss the results of his brain scan and lumbar puncture. He knew the letter was coming, but seeing the facts there, in black and white, made it all the more real – and daunting.
Some Christmas this is going to be, he thought bitterly, shoving the letter in his jeans pocket.
Megan entered the drawing room, looking fresh faced and rosy cheeked. She’d just taken Zac for a walk round the grounds, and as always, Zac came thundering towards Sebastian full force.
‘Hello, old boy.’ The dog’s tail thrashed against him as he bent down to stroke him.
‘You’ve certainly got a friend there,’ laughed Megan.
‘Haven’t I just,’ he replied, smiling as Zac had now slumped onto the floor, belly up, wanting even more of a fuss. If only people were like dogs, reflected Sebastian, so open, honest and loyal, showing nothing but love and devotion. How much nicer the world would be. Was he getting cynical? But surely he had every right to be? He felt sure he was soon to receive some life-changing news and he didn’t feel ready for it. He was ill equipped, too young, at the top of his career and not ready for it all to be over. It was all wrong.
‘Sebastian, are you all right?’ Megan’s voice was quiet and full of concern.
He looked at her. She was the epitome of vitality, with her glowing, flawless complexion, thick, shiny brown hair and bright eyes. Life itself was growing steadily inside her, while he was feeling anything but vibrant at the moment. He felt drained, perturbed and on the brink of depression. If it wasn’t for Jamie’s support, mentally he would probably have sunk into a quagmire.
‘Sebastian?’ her voice was more urgent now.
He blinked. For a moment he considered telling her everything, then resisted. Ins
tead he just sighed. ‘Just exhausted. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.’
Megan didn’t look convinced. ‘Listen, Sebastian, if there’s anything wrong—’
‘Ah, there you are!’ interrupted Beatrice, dashing into the room. ‘Look what I’ve found!’ She held two large books covered in dust.
‘What are they?’ frowned Sebastian.
‘Photograph albums, darling,’ she replied with glee. ‘I’ve had Henry retrieve them from Daddy’s study.’ She sat down next to Sebastian and beckoned Megan to join them.
Opening a page, Megan grinned at the first photograph. It was a large black-and-white picture of a young wife, holding her first-born. Beatrice had been a looker, no doubt, with shoulder-length blond hair swept back off her pretty face. She smiled elatedly into the camera, showing off her beautiful son and heir, wrapped in a pristine, white shawl. Behind her stood the doting husband and proud father, tall, dark and utterly handsome. Just like Tobias, thought Megan. There was no denying the likeness.
‘This will be you soon,’ chirped Beatrice, tapping Megan’s lap. Then, turning to Sebastian, she said, ‘And you too, darling, in time.’
Sebastian’s eyes caught Megan’s and they both suppressed a sigh. Dear God, did anybody truly know him? he thought bleakly.
*
The following day Sebastian once more made the journey to see the consultant. Jamie had wanted to accompany him, but the film crew were having their last meeting and he couldn’t miss it. Sebastian didn’t mind, feeling the need to be alone, unsure of his own reaction to the neurologist’s findings.
Once settled in front of the consultant, Sebastian braced himself and, sitting straight backed, with cool composure, he listened carefully to what he had to say.
‘Sebastian, your brain and neck scan showed two areas of inflammation.’ He turned his computer screen to show him the scan images.
