by Sue Fortin
‘Shall we go around to the north side?’ asked Steph after she had spent ten minutes taking some photos of the lake and the surrounding area. ‘I think the light will be really effective over there.’
‘Sure.’
Harry led the way along a narrow footpath that cut through brushes and undergrowth, gradually inclining as it curved its way around to the north side. Underfoot the path became more stony.
‘Mind how you go,’ said Harry as they passed a particularly uneven patch of ground. He looked back over his shoulder, hoping he would see Steph struggling, which would give him the excuse to insist they turn back, but she was right behind him, barely out of breath. The trek was clearly not a challenge for her.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, as if able to read his thoughts. ‘I’m a lot tougher than I look.’
He didn’t doubt that, but he got the distinct impression she was tough on the inside by necessity rather than desire.
‘Does anything faze you?’ he asked as they climbed over a stile. He offered his hand to help her down, but she used the post to steady herself instead, before jumping down, either ignoring or oblivious to his gesture. He pushed his hand in his pocket.
‘Oh, stand there, just like that,’ she said suddenly, twisting out of the straps of her rucksack. ‘No, don’t move.’
Harry did as he was told, while Steph took her camera from her bag and framed up a shot of him. The shutter clicked several times. Steph took some more shots but from different angles. ‘Perfect!’
‘Can I see?’ asked Harry, moving towards her.
‘All in good time,’ she said, turning off the camera. ‘I want to vet them first and then show you my favourite.’ She slung the camera onto her shoulder.
The path made its way further up the incline and then ran parallel with the lake. There was a five-metre drop from the path down to the water’s edge.
Harry came to a halt and looked out across the lake. The vastness and stillness of the water seemed to capture him, paralysing him.
He felt the cold nip in the air on his face, and as his gaze travelled back to the murky water below he felt his body sway. It was as if the water had a kinetic force of its own and was drawing him in. Not for the first time he wondered if Elizabeth had felt that same pull. Was that why she had come up to the lake so often, her subconscious drawing her towards danger?
‘Hey! Careful.’
Steph’s voice brought him out of his trance, and he looked down at her hand on his forearm and the other holding tightly to his upper arm. He took a step back from the edge.
‘Sorry, I was miles away there.’ He blinked rapidly and concentrated on his surroundings.
‘I thought you were going in for a moment,’ said Steph. Her voice was light, but Harry could see concern in her eyes. ‘Thought I was going to have to jump in after you.’
‘You wouldn’t want to have to do that,’ said Harry. ‘Not here. Not this side.’
He could see she knew instantly what he meant. This was the spot where Elizabeth had entered the water. He shivered, not able to decide if the air temperature was the cause or not.
‘Shall we walk on?’ Steph let go of his arm. ‘Or would you prefer to go back? I can use the shots I took earlier.’
He could tell she didn’t really want to cut short her walk and he had a feeling she would only venture out here again if they went back now. He didn’t like the thought of Steph being out here on her own – this side of the lake was too dangerous.
‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ he reassured her.
The next hour sped by. Steph looked to be in her element. Eventually, they came upon the hide.
‘Couldn’t be better timing,’ said Harry, holding his hand out as several drops of rain landed.
‘Hopefully it’s just a shower,’ said Steph, ‘although I can get some pretty spectacular pictures in this weather.’
Harry groaned and hurried her along as drops of rain began to speckle their jackets. ‘At least let’s have something to eat and drink before we venture out and get soaked.’
‘Spoilsport,’ said Steph, and laughed. The specks of rain grew into globs, pattering on the leaves of the bushes. She matched his pace as he broke into a run. ‘Race you!’
They bundled into the hide and laughed as they flung themselves down on the bench, panting hard.
‘I think I won,’ said Harry, pushing back his damp hair.
‘You did not! I think I won that. Come on, admit it, I beat you.’
‘To save my embarrassment, let’s just call it a draw,’ said Harry.
‘Oh, the male ego. You owe me now,’ said Steph, nudging her shoulder into his.
‘Is that right? And what exactly do I owe you for?’
‘My silence. You will have to pay for it.’
She was facing him now.
‘I know a different way to silence you,’ Harry heard himself saying, his voice low.
The smile slipped from her face and the look which now invaded her eyes he was sure reflected his own. Harry leaned forward and his mouth locked onto hers. There was no resistance, no moving away. He looked her in the eye and this time she instigated the kiss. His whole body hardened as she took the kiss deeper and unfastened his jacket, and, tugging his T-shirt out of the way, her hands touched the bare skin of his stomach. He let out a small groan as her hands travelled downwards and then they were both hastily removing and moving clothing out of the way. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with a woman since Elizabeth’s death, but it was the first time he’d felt no guilt. He searched for it, but it just wasn’t there.
‘Stop.’ It was Steph who spoke, her hands pushing against his chest as she moved her mouth from his. ‘Stop. I’m sorry. This isn’t right.’
Harry let his arm fall immediately and took a step back. She had beaten him to it by half a beat. It didn’t feel right, not here. ‘OK. It’s fine. I’m sorry. I read the situation wrong.’
‘No, you didn’t. You read it perfectly.’ She dipped her head and fastened the button on her trousers. ‘I just think it’s not the time or the place. I don’t usually …’
‘Please, Steph, you don’t have to justify yourself. It’s OK to change your mind.’ Harry knew that and of course respected that, but his mind was a little bit more understanding than his body. He turned away and adjusted his clothing, giving Steph space to do the same. Then, not wanting to feel as if he was snubbing her, he turned back and tipped her face up so that she could look at him. ‘Honestly, I’d hate for you to do something you’re not happy with, and, to be honest, you’re right.’ He looked around the hide. ‘Not exactly the most romantic spot.’ He smiled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. And now, with the heat of the moment extinguished, he could think of much nicer places to have sex with Steph. It suddenly felt cheap and almost disrespectful to Elizabeth’s memory.
Chapter Sixteen
Conmere, Saturday, 11 May, 11.45 a.m.
‘Look, I don’t mean to sound crass or anything,’ said Harry, ‘but I have to get back soon for a meeting.’ He genuinely felt bad just saying it. This wasn’t how he’d like to leave things at all. ‘What are you doing later?’ he asked, his hand on the wall above Steph’s shoulder.
‘I need to look at my pictures and see if they’re up to your high standards.’
‘Maybe you want some help with that?’ he replied, relieved the confident banter was back between them.
‘Maybe I would,’ Steph replied as she ducked out from under his arm. ‘But isn’t there the small matter of the gala dinner tonight?’
Harry groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’ All sorts of notions ran through his head of what he’d rather be doing than sitting at a gala dinner later. ‘You’ll be there, won’t you?’
‘Of course. I’ve bought my LBD especially.’
Harry raised an eyebrow in question. ‘LBD?’
‘Little black dress,’ offered Steph.
‘Now, that I’d like to see,’ said Harry, pushing himself
away from the wall.
‘You will, at around seven-thirty tonight.’ She picked up her rucksack and walked out of the hide.
Harry looked at the empty doorway for a moment. Had all that really just happened? He hadn’t planned it at all, not that it hadn’t crossed his mind just how attracted to Steph he was. He’d like to get to know her better. The thought that she’d be gone in around twenty-four hours spurred him into action. He jogged to catch up with her.
‘Hey, I was thinking,’ he began. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way but you know what you were saying about needing to earn a bit more money – I wondered if you had anything planned for the coming week?’
She stopped walking and looked cautiously at him. ‘No, I don’t, as it happens,’ she said slowly.
‘We’re one short in Housekeeping. Actually, we’re two short, but if you fancied a week’s work, I can arrange it for you.’
‘Housekeeping?’ She looked sceptical.
‘I know it’s not very glamorous, making beds, sorting out linen, and that sort of stuff, but the pay’s not bad. We offer well above the minimum wage.’ He stopped. He’d offended her. Shit. That wasn’t his intention at all. ‘Sorry. Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked. You’ve got much better things to do.’ He dragged his hand across his chin in agitation at himself. It had been an impulsive offer, which, for a start, was out of character for him, but he really disliked the thought of Steph heading back to Brighton before they’d got to know each other better. He didn’t suppose Dominic would be particularly happy about the offer, but as far as Harry was concerned that was neither here nor there.
‘No. It’s fine. It was nice of you to think of me,’ she replied. ‘I must admit, housekeeping isn’t exactly at the top of my ambitions list.’
‘No, I realise that. Honestly, I’m sorry for mentioning it.’
‘Wait. Let me finish. While it’s not top of my ambitions list, I’m not so precious that I won’t roll up my sleeves and get stuck in. To be honest, anything is better than nothing. And the money really would be handy.’
He felt a small stirring of relief. ‘You don’t have to do full-time hours if it doesn’t suit. I know you’ve got your photos to sort out, but it’s there if you want it.’
‘Thank you. I’ll take it.’ She smiled broadly.
The walk back towards the resort seemed to be far quicker than when they had left a couple of hours ago. Harry was disappointed that they were parting company so soon. They stopped outside Steph’s lodge.
‘When do you think the photographs will be ready to see?’ he asked, pushing his hands into his pockets to stop himself from kissing her again. She was intoxicating. He felt bewitched. He couldn’t remember feeling like this before and suddenly an image of Elizabeth entered his mind. Had he ever felt this way with his wife? He was sure he must have done at some stage of their marriage, but his feelings for Elizabeth had quickly changed.
The sound of people chattering as they walked along the path broke the moment. Harry looked up and smiled, saying hello and asking them if they were having a good weekend. To which he got very positive replies.
‘Much as I would love to go inside with you right now, I really need to get to this meeting.’
‘I’ll see you this evening at the gala dinner.’ Steph smiled as she let herself into her lodge and closed the door on him.
As he walked back to the main house, he replayed the morning in his mind. Harry wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into. Part of him felt he should steer clear of Steph – after all, she was a reporter and she’d asked a few questions about Elizabeth, which should be ringing alarm bells, but he was aware he was making a point of ignoring them. He was sure Steph wouldn’t find anything out and, besides, he really liked her. His gut feeling was she was genuine and that was important to him. As he walked, he realised it was something that had sadly been missing in his marriage for a long time.
When he arrived at the house, he went into the sitting room, where his mother was resting in a chair by the fireplace. Harry crept in and took the rug from the back of the other chair and placed it carefully over her knees.
Pru opened an eye. ‘I’m not that old. You don’t have to treat me like you’ve come to visit me in a retirement home.’ She smiled at him.
‘I thought you were asleep,’ said Harry, assessing her appearance. It wasn’t like his mother to rest during the day. He wondered if it was a new symptom of her illness. She went to get up. ‘Stay there, Mum. Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?’
‘That would be nice.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Nice walk, was it? You know, your risk assessment?’
‘Yeah. All good.’ He avoided eye contact with her. He could tell when his mother was fishing. She hated not knowing what was going on with every aspect of Conmere, including the private lives of her sons.
‘Dominic was looking for you a little while ago.’
‘What did he want?’
‘I don’t know. Just said to tell you he was looking for you.’
‘I’ll do your tea and then I’ll go and find him.’
Harry returned to Pru a few minutes later with a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits. He dropped a kiss on his mother’s head and went off to Dominic’s office across the hall. The door was closed and he knocked, opening it a fraction to peer in. Dominic was on the phone, but he waved Harry in and pointed to the chair as he wound up his call.
‘Mum said you were looking for me.’
Dominic leaned back into his deep padded chair, hooking one ankle over the other knee. ‘Where have you been this morning?’
‘You’re as bad as Mum, wanting to keep tabs on me,’ said Harry. ‘I just went for a walk.’
Dominic looked speculatively at him. ‘A walk?’
‘Yes. A walk. Anyway, what did you want?’
‘You just went on a random walk? On your own?’
‘Jesus, Dom. What’s the big deal? I went for a walk with one of the reporters because she wanted to go down to the lake.’
Dominic shook his head. ‘You went for a walk with a reporter? It wouldn’t be Steph Durham by any chance, would it?’
‘Can you get over this, please?’ said Harry impatiently, bored at Dominic’s obsession with what Steph was doing or not doing.
‘And you went to the lake? What the fuck did you go there for?’
‘She wanted to see it. She’s a photographer. She wanted some different shots. In fact, I might be buying some to put up in the breakfast room. And while I’m here I might as well tell you that I’ve given her a job for the week. To cover the two members of staff who walked out this morning.’ He gave his brother a challenging look, knowing Dominic would hate this, but Harry didn’t care. It was a small, possibly petty, victory, but satisfying all the same.
‘What?’ Dominic sat up in his chair. ‘That was very good of you,’ he said, clearly put out by Harry’s decision-making. ‘Not bad for someone who swans into the place twice a year only and spends the rest of the time holed up in some old house in the middle of the French countryside.’
‘Seeing as I’m not going back to France for a while, I took the initiative. I had a problem and I’ve dealt with it. Now can you get on with what you wanted to see me about.’ Harry could feel the old tension rising between himself and his brother. He had always had to defend his decisions and actions to Dominic, who had, in Harry’s opinion, too readily taken up where their father had left off. It was no wonder Owen was totally pissed off with Dominic.
‘It might have been better if you’d run it by me first,’ said Dominic, his brow furrowing. ‘What I wanted to talk to you about was actually Steph Durham.’
Dominic had his attention now. Harry shifted uneasily in his seat. He’d seen that look in his brother’s eye many a time. It was one where the scent of blood was strong, and Dominic was preparing to mount his attack. Harry inwardly steeled himself for what Dominic was about to say about Steph as a somewhat unexpected desire to protect her rose.
/> ‘What about her?’
‘I did a bit of digging. There was something familiar about her and I couldn’t place it,’ said Dominic. ‘I was certain I’d seen her before.’
Harry held out his hands in an impatient gesture. ‘And …?’
‘You know I have a good memory for faces,’ said Dominic. ‘I’d seen her at a funeral. Her dad’s funeral. I should have made the connection as soon as I heard the surname.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah, a few years ago I went to Mick Durham’s funeral. Nice bloke. Married to a local police officer from CID. In fact, you know her. She was the one who investigated Elizabeth’s death – DCI Wendy Lynch.’
Harry felt sure the colour had drained from his face as he stared at his brother. Both of Steph’s parents were connected to Conmere and her mother in the worst possible way. He could hardly believe it. ‘Fuck,’ he said at last.
‘Yes, fuck indeed.’
Harry took a moment to digest the information. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Positive. As I say, I was at the funeral. Wendy Lynch was the grieving widow; despite the different surnames, the two of them were married. Mick Durham knew Dad. They went back a long way. Durham worked for Dad and then when Dad died I inherited him. You must know who I mean?’
‘What sort of work did he do?’ asked Harry, with a certain amount of trepidation. ‘Or do I not want to know?’ He knew both his father and his brother sometimes sailed close to the wind when it came to their business activities. Harry had purposely taken a step back from the business on this basis; he didn’t want to be involved with anything underhand. He’d made his feelings well known to Dominic and, although he had tried to persuade his brother to move away from their father’s business tactics, his words had fallen on deaf ears.
‘He did some driving for us. Just deliveries. Sometimes he’d drive Dad down to Manchester or London on an ad hoc cash basis.’
Harry fought down the ball of anger that was rolling around in the pit of his stomach. Steph hadn’t mentioned her dad working for the family and, more worryingly, she hadn’t mentioned the connection with Wendy Lynch either. He wanted to cut her some slack, but he was having trouble summoning up the generosity.
