by Sue Fortin
Steph gave herself one final look-over in the mirror of her room. The trousers were pretty snug, but she felt comfortable in them and ready to face the Sinclairs.
The restaurant was in the west wing of the house, just off the main entrance hall, and she was ushered to her seat by the maître d’. Steph found herself on a table with several other tour-guide representatives and three local business people who were providing outside services to Conmere.
‘It’s great the way the family support the local community,’ commented one guest.
‘How are you associated with the Sinclairs?’ asked Steph, genuinely interested. She had no idea about this side of the business.
‘I’m a local produce grower. Tina Eames of Eames Farm. This is my husband, George. We’re based about five miles away, just on the other side of Conmere.’
‘And they order their fruit and veg from you?’
‘Yes, the lot. They’ve saved our business, if we’re honest. We just get priced out of the market by the big supermarkets. We can’t survive on the kind of money they’re prepared to give us and I hate to feel like we’re being bullied by the big boys.’
‘I had heard it’s quite cut-throat,’ said Steph. Her estimation of the family notched up a little. ‘Fair play to the Sinclairs.’
‘They’ve been good to us as well,’ said a man sitting on the other side of Tina and George. ‘We’re an independent brewery. We make craft beers and the Sinclairs always order in bulk from us to stock their bar.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ said Steph. She looked at the local entrepreneurs. ‘Is it kind of quid pro quo?’ She kept her tone casual, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to ask.
The guy from the brewery looked a little uncomfortable at the question, as did George, but Tina was less perturbed.
‘Well, although there isn’t any formal agreement, as such,’ she began, ‘I think I speak for most of the local businesses who work with the Sinclair family that the loyalty they offer us is the same sort of loyalty they expect back.’
Steph pondered the answer. She wanted something more specific. ‘How do you mean exactly?’
‘I suppose we are supportive of their business as much as they are supportive of ours. They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise what we might want to do, and equally we wouldn’t stand in their way.’
‘So, hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to extend your greenhouses, they wouldn’t object and, still hypothetically speaking, you wouldn’t object to any planning applications to expand Conmere?’ suggested Steph.
‘Hypothetically speaking, yes,’ interjected George. ‘Anyway, what about you? Are you a reporter?’
‘I work for a digital-first holiday company, Vacation Staycation. I’m a feature writer and deal with PR for the agency,’ replied Steph and went on to explain a bit more about the business to George. She probably wasn’t going to get much more out of Tina right now, but give it a couple of hours and a few glasses of wine and then she was sure Tina would give her some more gossip about the Sinclair family. A local who was willing to divulge information was the ideal person to chat to, and Tina was bound to know something about Elizabeth Sinclair.
Her hunch was proved right, and by the time the main course had been cleared away Tina was really quite drunk. Steph had surreptitiously topped up Tina’s glass regularly and had kept the conversation light so as not to draw any suspicion from George. He was more relaxed himself now and talking earnestly to the beer-brewing guy again. Steph decided this was her best chance to engage Tina in conversation about Elizabeth.
‘So, Tina, you’ve lived locally all your life, have you?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I was born and bred in Kendalton as were both my mother and my father.’
‘Wow, a proper local. I bet you’ve seen some changes over the years.’
‘You can say that again. I don’t think my mum and dad would recognise the place these days.’
‘What about Conmere? That’s undergone some changes?’
‘Oh, yes, it has, and all for the better. When Max Sinclair was in charge it was all a bit old hat and dated. The house was in need of repair and the grounds were beginning to look a bit unkempt, but he was as tight as a witch’s earhole and never wanted to spend a penny. Mean old bugger, he was.’
‘I didn’t realize that,’ said Steph. ‘I lived here when I was younger but moved away when I went to uni. I must admit, I didn’t pay much attention to this place.’
‘Since the brothers took over, it’s undergone a real transformation. Of course, this reopening is the biggest of all. I think after what happened …’ she lowered her voice ‘… you know, to Elizabeth Sinclair, well, they needed a fresh start, so to speak.’
‘I’ve heard about her death. So tragic. She wasn’t a local girl, though, was she?’
‘Oh, no. Harry met her in London, I think. She was very glamorous.’
‘Did you know her at all?’
‘Not really. Only when I’d come up here with a delivery or she’d sometimes be in the village pub with Harry, but I can’t say she was a friend or that I knew her.’
‘Did she have many friends here?’ asked Steph.
‘You must be joking.’ Tina drained the last drop of wine from her glass and Steph topped it up again.
‘Why’s that?’ Steph felt she was on the brink of finding out something about Elizabeth as her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement.
‘She was a bit stuck up. She was very good at making enemies.’
‘Enemies? People in the village?’
Tina gave a snort. ‘I think she upset most people at some point or another.’
‘Like who?’
Tina tapped her chest with her forefinger. ‘Me. She wanted some fancy exotic fruit one day and put it on the order. When I came up and explained that I couldn’t get it, she was very put out. As I was just completing the paperwork with the kitchen, I heard her saying to Harry that they should think about a different supplier who could get some different fruit in.’
‘What did Harry say to that?’
‘Told her that he was very happy with us and there wasn’t the demand for dragon fruit, or whatever it was she wanted.’
‘I see,’ said Steph, and she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that there wasn’t more of a story there.
‘Do you think Elizabeth was happy here?’ she asked, going for a different angle.
‘It wasn’t really her scene, from what I heard. She was a city girl who liked to party. The brothers used to hold some big parties from time to time and apparently Elizabeth was in her element then.’ She gave a quick glance towards her husband. Tina leaned closer. ‘There was a rumour once that Elizabeth was having an affair with someone in the village.’
‘Who?’ This was more like it, thought Steph.
‘Cameron, who runs the pub. He’s a bit of a ladies’ man and fancies himself something rotten. He would never confirm nor deny the rumour, but he spent a lot of his time teaching Elizabeth yoga.’
‘Yoga?’ Steph almost spluttered her drink out of her mouth.
‘Yes, he’s a yoga fanatic. Does Reiki, Indian head massage and all that business.’ She grinned at Steph. ‘I know it sounds a bit odd. You’d expect a barman to be pot-bellied, smoking and drinking, but not Cameron, he’s not like that at all.’
‘Do you think she was having an affair with him?’
‘I’m not so sure. She might have flirted with him. She did spend a lot of time there but I don’t know if they ever … you know.’
‘Had sex?’ supplied Steph.
‘Exactly. I think she stopped going because it was causing a bit of tittle-tattle in the village. Harry wasn’t very happy either,’ said Tina.
‘What happened?’ asked Steph when it looked like Tina wasn’t going to elaborate.
Tina’s gaze flicked around the table before she spoke. ‘Apparently, he confronted Cameron about it. In the pub. In front of all the customers. Cameron. After that
, he was really pissed off and said he couldn’t give a shit about her.’
‘Why the sudden change of heart?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Harry said something to him or possibly stopped asking him to supply the craft beer or holding his yoga classes up here at Conmere.’
‘I thought …’ Steph inclined her head towards the beer-brewing man.
‘That’s only in the last eighteen months. Before that, Cameron used to supply them,’ explained Tina.
‘That must have been a blow for the pub,’ said Steph.
‘Definitely. You can imagine how much a place like this spends a week on alcohol. It would have been a very big blow to Cameron but …’ She hesitated.
‘But what?’
‘I shouldn’t really say this, but it was almost like a warning going out to the locals who did business with the Sinclairs.’ Tina glanced around again as she spoke, her voice barely audible above the noise in the hall. ‘Mess with the Sinclairs at your peril.’
Steph sat back in her chair as she mulled this over. It seemed the Sinclairs really liked to get their claws into people and then keep hold of them tightly, and woe betide anyone who upset them.
Chapter Thirteen
Two Years Earlier,
Conmere, 23 August, 2.30 p.m.
Elizabeth shuddered as the front door to the lodge slammed shut. She was sitting on the patio at the rear of the house, making the most of the warm afternoon and spoiling herself with a vodka, lime and lemonade.
‘Elizabeth!’ Harry called as he stomped his way through the house.
Elizabeth sighed and looked up over her sunglasses at her husband, now standing in the doorway. ‘You don’t have to shout,’ she said. ‘I’m not deaf.’ She took another look at him and with a sinking sensation realised Harry was in a foul mood – it practically oozed from every feature on his face and every tense and tight muscle in his body.
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
Elizabeth pushed her glasses up on her head and took a long sip of her drink through the straw, before placing the glass on the table and turning to look at him again. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The name Cameron mean anything to you?’
Elizabeth gave what she hoped was her best puzzled expression while wondering how the hell Harry had found out about Cameron. ‘I don’t think it does, no,’ she said after a moment’s thought.
‘Bollocks.’
She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Pardon? For a moment there I thought you swore at me.’
‘Cut the wounded-lady crap,’ said Harry. He paced back into the living room and Elizabeth could hear him pouring a drink. She got up and followed him into the lodge, watching him down the whisky in one and then pour himself another. He looked back at her defiantly as he downed the second shot in the same fashion.
‘I take it that’s not the first drink of the day,’ she said, noting his eyes weren’t quite focusing as sharply as normal.
‘What of it?’ With a heavy hand, he plonked the glass back on the sideboard. ‘Not every day you find out your wife’s been shagging the local barman.’
‘I take exception to that,’ snapped Elizabeth. ‘I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it’s untrue.’
‘Not according to half the pub.’
‘What exactly does that mean?’
‘Just admit it, you’re having an affair.’
‘Why would I admit something that’s not true?’ Technically speaking, it wasn’t true. Yes, she’d had a little thing going on with Cameron, but that had finished weeks ago. Harry was speaking as if it was still happening. ‘Who’s been winding you up with idle gossip?’
Harry glared at her intently before speaking. ‘Someone said something to Dominic.’
Elizabeth gave a burst of laughter. ‘Dominic. Seriously? You’re listening to village gossip via your brother? That’s insane. I thought you were above all that.’
‘He seemed to take it seriously.’
‘He would,’ said Elizabeth, as if she was already tired of the conversation. In reality she was seething underneath her calm and nonchalant exterior. Wait until she saw Dominic; she’d rip him to shreds. She forced a smile and moved towards Harry. ‘I promise you, I’m not having an affair. It’s just nasty rumours. Yes, I’ve spent some time with him practising yoga but that’s all. Honestly, Harry, you really shouldn’t believe everything you hear, and Dominic should know better.’
Harry appraised her through narrowed eyes. ‘Don’t mess with me, Elizabeth.’
She didn’t like the way he delivered the line, but she ignored the underlying threat. ‘I’m not. Honest. Look, I know things haven’t been great between us lately but it’s not come to this yet, has it?’
‘I don’t know; you tell me. I’m certainly not the one rumoured to be having an affair.’
‘Not with a woman anyway,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You are with your job, though. And what makes it even more insulting is that you don’t even like your job that much.’
Harry slumped onto the sofa. ‘You really hate the set-up here, don’t you?’
‘I’m bored, that’s all. There’s nothing to do. I’m a good businesswoman and I had a good job before I came here. I want to put my brain to work.’
Harry groaned. ‘Not all that again. You know it’s not possible.’
‘I don’t see why not. Just because your family are stuck in the dark ages and won’t let an outsider into the inner sanctum, it doesn’t mean you have to agree with them. Besides, it’s no different to your mum working.’
‘It is different. It’s her company. In fact, it’s more than that, it’s her baby. You know how she is about Conmere.’
‘You are all so frustrating,’ said Elizabeth, following up her comment with a growl of frustration and clenched fists. ‘What does it take to make you, any of you, change your mind?’ She marched out of the room and stamped her way up every stair, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her as a grand finale.
Chapter Fourteen
Conmere, Friday, 10 May, 7.00 p.m.
Harry took his seat at the table with some guests his mother had arranged to dine with him. They were all probably hoping for some dynamic conversation like they’d expect from Dominic or even Owen, but Harry just couldn’t feel the love for the place or its inaugural relaunch. The magic of Conmere had long since worn off. Not only since Elizabeth’s death, but long before that he had become disillusioned with his way of life here and with the whole Sinclair dynasty. It was one of the things that had put a strain on his marriage. Elizabeth had thought she was marrying into some rich family and it would be all Hollywood glamour, but the reality of it was far different. It was hard graft, business meetings, talking to suppliers, organising staff, looking at spreadsheets and bank balances – all pretty boring really. No wonder Elizabeth hadn’t been satisfied.
‘It’s so wonderful what you’ve done here,’ said one of his guests, breaking into his thoughts. ‘It’s as if it’s had new life breathed into it.’
‘That was the intention,’ said Harry. ‘I’m glad you like it. The introduction of the health spa and the thalassotherapy pool have been a major investment and we’re delighted with the results; we’re hoping to offer guests the whole package and deliver on all fronts.’
It was rehearsed patter Dominic had briefed him with ahead of the weekend. Harry did indeed think it was a great asset to Conmere but he was also aware the passion in him for the place had pretty much died out. He looked over to where his mother was sitting, talking enthusiastically to her table guests, and his heart filled with both pride and sadness. She was an amazing woman, so strong, so determined to make a success of the place. She wouldn’t let anything get in her way, least of all cancer. And with this new knowledge, his planned visit – SAS-style, in and out under the radar – wouldn’t hold out. He was going to have to stay now until … until the end.
He mentally went through the arrangements he’d have to make in France. He could manage some of the
design work here at Conmere. He’d have to take a flying visit back to France to tie up a few loose ends but for the most part he could work away from the office. He’d have to do this all without making his mother suspicious, although he kind of felt she’d realise something was going on and soon make the connection that he knew about her illness. So be it, he thought; he would rather it was out in the open anyway. He hated the way his family kept secrets all the time.
He realised his guest was still speaking to him, enthusing about the accommodation he was staying in. Harry nodded encouragingly and thanked him for his thoughts. ‘I’m glad you like it. You’re in one of the executive suites; we’re hoping to attract the business clientele and offer them a different sort of stay to one they might get at other resorts.’
‘Oh, definitely. I was thinking that myself.’ The guest waffled on some more about the company he worked for and where he saw Conmere sitting within the market. All of which Harry politely listened to, although he wasn’t really taking it in. His attention had been caught by the table off to his left, where he’d noticed Steph sitting. He’d wanted to thank her properly for dealing with Sonia and had meant to earlier when he’d seen her coming out of the spa, but he’d been distracted by their banter.
Waiting for an appropriate pause in the conversation, Harry made his excuses to his guests and threaded his way through the tables, his gaze on Steph. She looked up as he approached, smiled and looked away. When he arrived at her side, he could tell she was startled by his appearance and blushed a little, which amused him.
