by Anne Mather
‘You mean she’s attempting blackmail?’ Alexis frowned. ‘What does it say, for God’s sake?’
His father heaved a deep sigh. There were lines of strain around his mouth and it was obvious he was most disturbed. ‘Well, he mentions the difficulties his company has got into, and how he can see no future short of selling out to a larger corporation. He apparently owes money all over the city.’
‘But that’s not what’s worrying you, is it?’ Alexis was impatient.
‘No. No, he goes on to say that – he knows his wife is being unfaithful to him, and that she’s – the mistress of the son of the man who has been systematically trying to ruin him!’
Alexis finished his Scotch and replaced the glass on the tray, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. For a few minutes he said nothing, and then, when his father was beginning to get agitated, he asked: ‘Have you seen this letter?’
Howard Whitney frowned. ‘What kind of a fool do you think I am? Of course I’ve seen the letter.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday evening. In my office.’
‘You mean Janie Knight walked into your office with the actual letter her husband wrote?’ Alexis gave his father an old-fashioned look. ‘Wasn’t she afraid you’d take it from her?’
Howard sighed. ‘She wasn’t alone.’
‘You mean someone else knows about this?’
‘Yes. That chap Lorrimer – her lawyer.’
‘Philip Lorrimer?’ Alexis shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him!’
‘Maybe not, but there it is.’
‘But how can you be sure the letter was written by Knight?’
‘If it wasn’t, it’s a damn good facsimile. Good enough to fool me!’
‘But not good enough to fool a handwriting expert.’
‘My God, Alex, what good is that? Even if the whole thing is a hoax, even if we take them to court and prove it’s a hoax, it’s going to cause a God-awful stink, and that’s something I could do without right now.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Alexis was bitter. ‘It wouldn’t do to jeopardize your knighthood for services to industry, would it? That’s quite a pun, isn’t it?’
‘Shut up, Alex! If it wasn’t for you there’d be no mess.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alexis was indignant. ‘I wasn’t responsible for buying up the shares in Knight’s company – you were.’
‘I know it, I know it. But don’t you see, if Janie Knight wasn’t so infatuated with you, she’d never have contacted me the way she did. She’d have been just as eager to hush up a scandal as I am.’
‘So what’s the deal?’ Alexis was wary.
‘It’s quite simple really. She wants you back again.’
‘You can’t be serious!’ Alexis was half amused.
‘Can’t I?’ But Howard was not joking. ‘She said you love her – you love one another! You only gave her up because Knight’s company was practically ruined, and I told you to do so.’
‘Nobody tells me what to do,’ muttered Alexis grimly.
His father made a frustrated gesture. ‘I did tell her that, but to no avail, I’m afraid. You must have done your job well. I only asked for information – not recruits!’
But Alexis was not amused. ‘Well, whatever her terms, they’re unacceptable.’
‘I was afraid you’d say that. Alex—’
‘No, Howard! Not now – not ever!’
Howard sank down wearily into his chair. ‘She’ll give it to the press.’
‘If there is a letter. Personally, I have my doubts. It’s too convenient. Anyway, let her do it. I know who’ll come off worst in the long run. Besides, what she did, she did for herself, not for me.’
Howard shook his head. ‘And what do you intend to do?’
‘Me? About this? Nothing.’
Howard riffled through his papers. ‘I think it would be a good idea if you returned to Austria. With you out of the way, I might be able to salvage something from the mess.’
‘I do not intend to return to Austria!’ stated Alexis coldly. ‘Quite honestly, I’m sick of the whole bloody round of social back-stabbing. Particularly when there are women involved!’
His father looked up in surprise. ‘What’s got into you?’
Alexis shook his head, and at that moment Michelle Whitney chose to appear. In a long gown of pale green slipper satin that showed off her rounded figure to advantage she was very attractive, and her eyes slid greedily over Alexis’s deeply tanned skin before moving on to her husband.
‘Aren’t you nearly finished, darling?’ she asked, perching on a corner of Howard’s desk and running her fingers down his cheek, looking deliberately in Alexis’s direction as she did so. ‘I’m dying of hunger.’
Howard rose, flexing his back muscles tiredly. ‘Yes, we’re finished, my dear.’
Michelle’s eyes flickered towards her stepson. ‘Hello, Alex. It’s good to see you back again. Did you enjoy your holiday?’
Alexis inclined his head. ‘Very much, thank you.’
‘You can tell Searle to start serving now,’ went on Howard, and Michelle slid off the desk. But although she looked once more at Alexis he seemed to find the pattern of the carpet more than absorbing and she was forced to look away.
After she had gone, Howard turned to his son, and frowned. ‘Look here,’ he said. ‘Did you mean what you said just now? About being sick of playing around?’
Alexis was cautious. ‘Why?’
‘Well, old Jeff Pierce retired last week and so far they’ve not got anyone to take his job.’
‘Jeff Pierce?’ Alexis stared at his father. ‘You mean – the manager at Wakeley?’
‘That’s right.’ Howard was watching his son’s reactions closely. ‘How does it strike you? Being section manager in a woollen mill?’
Alexis ran a hand round the back of his neck. His father’s suggestion had left him temporarily stunned. It was something he had never even contemplated. He had worked in the company offices in London, of course, he had even taken a degree in economics at university, but to actually enter into the practical side of the business was something entirely different.
‘But I know nothing about wool!’
‘You don’t have to. Business acumen is what’s needed.’
‘I suppose it would get me out of the way just as effectively,’ he remarked dryly.
His father looked embarrassed. ‘You did say you were sick of the same old round,’ he defended himself.
‘Yes, I did say that.’ Alexis was thoughtful. ‘But this! This is something else.’
‘Don’t you think you’ll be able to do it? I’m not putting you in sole charge of the mill, you know. You’ll have to answer to Jim Summerton if anything goes wrong, just as John McMullen does.’
Alexis gave a wry smile. ‘Thank you for your confidence.’
‘No, seriously though, Alex, what do you think?’
Alexis allowed his hand to fall to his side. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. I’d have to give the matter some thought.’
‘I realize that. But it does – appeal to you, doesn’t it?’ Howard looked at him searchingly and Alexis raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s a challenge,’ he conceded at last. ‘It’s a long time since I visited Wakeley. Must be six – maybe seven years. While I was at university, I guess. I remember going to see old John McMullen …’
Howard nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right.’ He paused. ‘To think – we used to live in Wakeley. Must be all of twenty years ago.’ He shook his head. ‘That house your mother liked so much – I wonder if it’s still standing.’
Alexis’s jaw hardened. ‘Yes. Well, that’s another story, isn’t it, Howard?’
His father breathed hard down his nose. ‘You won’t ever let me forget, will you, Alex?’ he muttered, and looked up to find Michelle standing by the door.
‘Forget what, darling?’ she queried silkily, looking from one to the other of them curiously. �
�Aren’t you coming?’
Howard walked round the desk to join his wife, glancing at his son with scarcely concealed appeal. ‘Yes, we’re coming, Michelle.’ He tucked her hand through his arm. ‘And what delicacy have you had prepared for us this evening?’
Alexis followed them through to the dining-room, but he was preoccupied with what he and his father had been discussing, and he sensed Michelle’s impatience that she had been excluded from their discussions.
CHAPTER TWO
KAREN could hear her father’s voice raised in anger as she entered the house, and a frown came to mar her wide brow. It was unusual to hear Daniel Sinclair so heated about anything, and dropping the pile of exercise books she had brought home to mark on to the hall table, she pushed open the door and entered the living-room.
Her parents were standing on the hearth before the roaring fire. The room had a cosy lived-in warmth which was presently belied by the coldness of her father’s expression. Karen looked at them both questioningly, noting her mother’s worried frown, and then said:
‘So what’s happened? I could hear you shouting half-way down the street, Pop!’
‘Don’t call me Pop!’ muttered her father irritably. ‘And I wasn’t shouting. I was merely exhibiting my frustration, that’s all.’
Karen dropped down into an armchair near the fire, holding out her cold hands to the flames. ‘What have you got to feel frustrated about?’ she asked, a trace of humour about her mouth.
Daniel Sinclair reached for his pipe off the mantelshelf and put it between his teeth with obvious intolerance. ‘I have my reasons!’
Karen made a move, and looked at her mother. ‘What’s happened? Have I done something?’
‘No, of course not.’ Laura Sinclair shook her head, and gave her husband an impatient look. Then she turned her attention to her daughter. ‘You look frozen! Didn’t you get a lift home?’
Karen shook her head. ‘No. Ray had to go into Wakefield, so I said there was no point in him coming out of his way in weather like this. It’s snowing again, you know. I caught the bus, but it was late as usual.’
Her mother listened, nodding, but Karen could tell her thoughts were still occupied with her husband’s affairs. ‘I thought you were later than usual,’ she said, glancing at the clock. ‘The meal won’t take long. It’s a chicken casserole. Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous!’ Karen smiled, and then made a puzzled gesture towards her father. ‘What’s going on? Why was Daddy so upset when I came in?’ She paused. ‘The – the mill’s not closing down or anything, is it?’
Daniel Sinclair turned on her. ‘Now why should you think a thing like that?’ he demanded aggressively.
Karen was taken aback. ‘No reason, Pop. It’s not, is it?’
‘No, of course not.’ Her father chewed irritably at the end of his pipe.
Karen sighed with relief. With so many firms closing down it had been a very real possibility. ‘So what is it?’
‘Jeff Pierce’s job has been filled!’ snapped her father.
Karen digested this before saying any more. ‘And – and you’ve not been considered?’
‘Damn right!’ Daniel snorted angrily. ‘It’s a disgrace!’
Karen hesitated. ‘Ian Halliday hasn’t got it, has he?’ Halliday was her father’s assistant.
‘No. I could almost wish he had.’
Karen sighed. ‘Then who has got it?’ She couldn’t think of anyone else with the qualifications.
‘Only that playboy son of Howard Whitney’s, who’s always getting his name into the papers for one fool thing after another!’
Karen felt some of the colour draining out of her cheeks, and hastily covered them with her palms, her elbows resting on her knees. She didn’t want her parents to notice her sudden sense of shock. ‘Not – not Alexis Whitney?’ she murmured, controlling the tremor in her voice.
But fortunately no one noticed her. ‘Yes, that’s the chap,’ said her father bitterly. ‘What in God’s name he wants to come to a place like this for I’ll never know! The life he’s been leading these past few years, I shouldn’t have thought Wakeley would be big enough to hold him!’
Laura Sinclair put a calming hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Stop getting yourself so angry about it, Dan!’ she exclaimed. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well try and make the best of it. If, as you say, he’s not the type to take to discipline, then no doubt he won’t stick it long.’
Daniel thrust his pipe into the pocket of his cardigan. ‘What I can’t understand is why he should be coming here in the first place. Oh, I know there’s been all that gossip in the press about him and some company director’s wife recently, but Howard Whitney should know better than to send him here.’
‘But they used to live here,’ said Laura mildly.
‘Yes, years ago. Before Howard made his pile. D’you think they’d live here now? No, by God! We’d not be good enough for them.’ He shook his head. ‘But sending that spoiled brat here to be manager, to take over from old Jeff, to even take over his house! Well, it’s downright disgraceful!’
‘He’s hardly a brat any longer, Dan,’ remarked Laura dryly. ‘He must be almost thirty.’
‘That’s not the point.’ Her husband brought out his pipe again and put it between his teeth. ‘What does he know about the job? What does he know about wool! Bloody layabout!’
While her parents went on and on arguing about the new appointment, Karen sat as though frozen in her chair. And she was frozen, mentally at least. Two or three weeks ago, before the school trip to Grüssmatte, this news would have caused her a momentary pang, and then been forgotten. What was past was past, and she would have got on with her life without too much soul-searching.
But ten days ago she had come face to face with a ghost from the past, a ghost she realized had haunted her for years, and she had known that far from being forgotten, he had merely been hidden behind the veils of memory she had deliberately allowed to fall.
Alexis Whitney! She shivered. How much more angry her father would be about this appointment if he knew how closely Alexis Whitney had come to ruining his own daughter’s life. Her lips twisted. Had she changed so much as to be unrecognizable? Or had there been so many in his life that her face paled to insignificance beside others more beautiful?
Her parents’ conversation was breaking up. Her father was leaning down to switch on the television, and her mother was going out to dish up their evening meal in the kitchen. Karen got rather jerkily to her feet, and turning her attention to her father she said, in what she hoped were casual tones: ‘And when does the prodigal arrive?’
Daniel had taken his seat before the television and was concentrating on the programme so that she had to repeat herself before he answered shortly: ‘What? Oh, tomorrow, so I hear. He was in with Jim Summerton this afternoon.’
Karen stifled a gasp. ‘You mean he’s here in Wakeley already?’
Her father looked up, clearly not happy about being distracted. ‘That’s what I said. What’s the matter with you, girl? It won’t affect you, will it? Whether he’s here or not.’
Karen flushed then. ‘Of course not. I was merely showing interest, that’s all.’
‘Well, you keep your interests occupied elsewhere. I wouldn’t have any daughter of mine involved with a rake like him.’ Daniel surveyed her critically. ‘Hmm, I’ve no doubt he’d find you to his taste! Trendy clothes, all that loose hair! Don’t the education authorities care that their staff should look more mature than the pupils? My God, in my day, teachers were teachers, not bits of girls in clothes designed to attract trouble!’
Karen managed to smile at this. ‘Oh, Pop, don’t be so silly. Nobody cares about things like that nowadays. It’s what the pupils absorb that matters, not what they see.’
‘And they see plenty, if you ask me!’ muttered her father grimly. ‘How old are those boys you teach? Fifteen, sixteen? I don’t know how you get them to take any notice of yo
u.’
‘I manage,’ remarked Karen, and escaped to the kitchen to help her mother dish up the dinner.
‘Is Ray coming round tonight?’ Laura asked, as she added butter to the potatoes.’
Karen shrugged, her appetite depleted by her father’s attitude. ‘I expect so,’ she agreed, lifting the lid of the casserole and allowing a rich odour of chicken and herbs to pervade the atmosphere. ‘He had to go and see about the new instruments. Apparently there’s been some holdup or something.’
‘He’s a very conscientious young man,’ observed her mother approvingly. ‘Everyone said at Christmas how much the choir’s improved since he took it over.’
‘Yes.’ Karen spoke absently, moving about the room lifting a piece of cutlery here, a dish there, generally annoying her mother until Laura said sharply:
‘What’s the matter with you? You’re not worrying about your father, are you?’
Karen looked up guiltily. Her father had been far from her thoughts just then. ‘Why – no! Of course not.’
‘That’s good, because I don’t think I could cope with two of you! For heaven’s sake, somebody had to get Jeff Pierce’s job. It could quite easily have been young Ian Halliday. After all, your father’s only got a few years to go to retirement, whereas Ian’s only in his thirties.’
Karen shrugged. ‘But Pop said he would rather it had been Ian!’
‘Don’t you believe it. If Ian Halliday had got the job, there’d have been some hard words said, believe you me.’
‘So he’d have been just as angry whoever got it?’
‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. Your father’s never really cared for Howard Whitney being so successful. They were boys together here in Wakeley, and while Howard’s father owned a mill even in those days, he never made a lot of money. It took Howard’s brain and know-how to make Whitney Textiles what it is today.’
‘I see.’ Karen digested this slowly. ‘Does Pop know Howard Whitney, then?’
‘Of course he does. He visits Wakeley occasionally—’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. I meant – did he know him well?’
