“Can you direct me to the Ferguson birthday party, please,” he asked.
“Ah, that’s upstairs in our private function suite,” replied a young lady with a clipboard. “Just take the stairs over there to the right. You can’t miss it.”
Definitely in the right place then. They headed towards the staircase and started to climb the steps, getting more and more nervous as they neared the top. There was a door on the left with a notice saying, ‘Happy 80th birthday, Angus Ferguson’. Grant was grateful for that because it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t actually known his grandfather’s name. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Several people were standing in a group at the far end of the room, chatting and having a drink. Between them and the door was a large round table, covered in a pristine white table cloth and beautifully laid with place settings for about a dozen people. Four sets of blue and yellow balloons bearing the number 80, two vases of yellow roses and some jolly music playing unobtrusively in the background created a festive yet dignified atmosphere. Grant and Imogen stepped inside. Immediately the talking ceased and Cameron Ferguson walked over to them. They recognised him at once.
“Grant! Imogen! I’m so glad you could join us.” He embraced them both warmly. “Come over and meet everyone.” A few moments of confusion followed, during which they met so many people that they both felt sure they would not remember who was who. But they were all very welcoming, so different from the last time they had been over here. They were introduced to Lauren and the two boys, James and Henry, the birthday boy himself, Angus, Lauren’s brother, Ian and his wife, Flora, along with their children, Archie and Zara and, surprisingly, Cameron’s brother, Scott. “There’s just one more guest to arrive,” Cameron then announced. “I invited Dougie since it was he who helped to bring us together. Without him I would never have known you even existed.”
As he spoke the door opened again and Douglas McKendrick stepped into the room. Further introductions ensued and then they all sat down at the beautifully laid table.
“Grant, will you do me the honour of sitting next to me,” Cameron invited, “and Imogen, there’s a place for you on his left.” Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she had thought they were going to be separated. Angus sat on Cameron’s right with Lauren and her two boys on the other side. The seat beside Imogen, on her left, was as yet unoccupied. She didn’t really mind who sat there as long as she had her fiancé at her elbow. But then it turned out to be Douglas McKendrick.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Imogen,” he smiled, as he eased himself into the vacant chair. “You won’t need to send me that card now.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“I sent Jasmine my address anyway. Maybe she didn’t know I’d be seeing the two of you today.”
He leaned across and shook Grant by the hand. “Thanks for contacting your dad,” he said affably. “He’s over the moon.” Grant hadn’t heard his comment to Imogen. He smiled back.
“I’m glad you pushed me into it,” he confessed.
He was a charming and very handsome man. Imogen could easily see how Patricia might have been attracted to him. But to put her marriage at stake by actually sleeping with him! She felt sorry for Sam. She would always have a soft spot for Sam. But what was that about Jasmine? Was the girl colluding with Douglas and Patricia in hiding the affair from Kenneth?
Everyone was now seated and soup was being served. Imogen turned back to Dougie and asked him what he had meant about a card.
“Jasmine texted me,” he disclosed. “She said Grant wanted to send me a card but he had mislaid my address. Maybe he didn’t mention it to you.”
“So you know Jasmine quite well?”
“No, I’ve never met her. The text just came out of the blue.”
“But you’ve met Sam?”
Douglas at least had the decency to look abashed, if not remorseful. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard,” he said in a low voice, “but yes, I’ve met Sam and his girlfriend, Tania. Patty and I have been good friends for years. We met through my wife, Lucinda.”
Grant became aware of what was being discussed and felt uncomfortable. He gave Imogen a nudge, urging her to be careful. It wasn’t the time or place for a showdown. Imogen, however, couldn’t resist one more question. She turned towards Grant.
“Did you tell Jasmine that you wanted to send a card to Douglas? And that you needed his address?”
“No. Sure I know his address. We’ve been in his house.”
“But you did mention sending a card?”
He shook his head. “When was this conversation supposed to have taken place?”
“This morning,” Douglas answered, looking worried. “Never mind,” he added hurriedly, “it’s obviously some sort of misunderstanding. Let’s enjoy this lovely meal.”
Throughout the rest of the meal Grant managed to relax and enjoy the company of his new-found family. His father and grandfather made him feel very welcome and he began to open up to them about the details of his own life, his childhood, his family in Belfast. They were sad to hear that he had already been married and that his young bride had died so tragically but delighted that he had found happiness again with Imogen. Cameron asked after Catherine without any hesitation or embarrassment, but with genuine interest. Grant discovered that his father worked in the tourist industry and his grandfather had been the manager of a large clothing company, specialising in Scottish tartans and knitwear.
“I’m surprised that you’re not all dressed in kilts,” Grant commented. “I sort of expected that you might be.”
“We normally would wear our kilts for an occasion like this,” Cameron divulged, “but we were anxious that it might make you feel out of place, as if you didn’t belong. So we all decided to go for shirts and trousers.”
“That was very considerate. Thank you.”
Scott was seated at the other end of the table. Grant was glad about that. He needed to speak to Cameron in private before he would know how to address the man. James and Henry talked amongst themselves and with their cousins; they hadn’t bothered much with the newcomers after the initial greeting. Grant seized his chance in between dessert and coffee, when people started to move about and mingle. He edged Cameron into a corner and spoke to him quietly.
“Those things you told me about in the letter,” he probed, “I need to know whether Scott and the boys know the truth or not, especially with him being here in the room.”
Cameron nodded. “Scott may have his suspicions but we’ve never owned up to anything. As far as he’s concerned, the boys are his nephews and he’s quite happy.”
“And what about the boys themselves?”
Imogen took the chance to slip out to the toilet while Grant and his dad were talking about private matters. He could fill her in later.
“We haven’t told them either. Not yet. But we will. They deserve to know who their real father is, just as you did.”
“So, as far as they are concerned we are brothers, not cousins.”
“Definitely. We’ve brought the two lads up. We’ll always consider them to be our sons.”
“I haven’t had the chance to talk to them yet,” Grant told him. “How do they feel about me?”
“I’m not sure. They’re a bit mixed up. But they’ll come round.”
“You’re very trusting of me, telling me such intimate secrets that they don’t know themselves. I mean, you hardly know me.”
Cameron looked him straight in the eye. “You’re my own flesh and blood, Grant. You’ll know how special that feels when you have a child of your own some day. I don’t mean that I love James and Henry any less. It’s hard to explain. It’s just a different kind of special. I just wanted you to know.”
“Well let me return the favour,” Grant confided. “Imogen is already expecting a baby. It’s due next
May. And, on top of that, we’re getting married next Friday. That’s two secrets I haven’t told anyone else.”
Cameron gave him a radiant smile. “Congratulations, Son, on both counts,” he said. “Now come and meet the others.”
They stayed for another hour or so, mingling with the other guests and enjoying an after dinner drink with large helpings of birthday cake. Angus gave a short speech, in which he mentioned how wonderful it had been to discover that he had another grandson and to finally get to meet him. Phone numbers and email addresses were exchanged along with social media contacts and photos were taken of various groupings. Grant and Imogen left the party feeling very much a part of the family and promising to keep in touch. They got a taxi back to their hotel.
On the way Imogen brought the conversation back to Douglas McKendrick. She revealed that she had overheard him talking on his mobile when she came out of the ladies’ toilets. He had been standing outside the gents’ with his back to her so he hadn’t noticed her passing by.
“What did you hear?” asked Grant, interested in spite of the happy evening they had spent.
“He was talking to someone called Mia and telling her to be careful, not to let any strangers into the house. He mentioned Jasmine and something about her tricking him into giving her his address.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Grant agreed, “but it isn’t really our business to interfere, I suppose. Sam and Jasmine obviously know him in a different context from us. In our case he’s a family friend. In their case he’s the enemy.”
“But it does involve us if she used our names to trick him.”
“That’s true. Anyway, let’s forget about it for tonight. The party went better than I could have expected. I like Cameron.”
The taxi drew up outside their hotel. “Me too. But I’m whacked! Let’s go to bed.”
***
Douglas McKendrick was worried. Patty was neither answering her phone nor was she responding to messages. He had called her on his own phone and had also used Mia’s but he had not been able to raise her all day. Was it because of what her son had said, that threat about not letting her see her grandson? Surely she wouldn’t just ignore him after all they have shared. If she was going to end things she would at least tell him straight. And why did her daughter, Jasmine, want his address? He arrived home from the party and, taking a surreptitious glance around the garden, stepped inside and firmly shut the door. Mia immediately emerged from the sitting-room.
“You frightened me a bit with that phone-call,” she said frenetically. “I asked Uncle Alex to stay with me until you got home.”
Douglas followed her back into the room and greeted his brother with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bro,” he acknowledged. “It’s probably nothing but I’m glad you were able to put her mind at ease.”
“You’re playing with fire,” Alex chided. “I’ve warned you a hundred times to end that relationship.” Both Alex and Mia were fully aware of the long-standing affair and of Patty’s marital status. They had accepted it with reluctance but both still had reservations.
“We love each other,” Douglas replied simply, and Alex sighed resignedly.
Mia said goodnight and went upstairs. She loved nothing more than to read a few chapters of a good novel before going to sleep. Indeed she was secretly writing one of her own. Maybe someday she would get it published and into the public domain but for now it remained a private hobby. As usual she looked out through the curtains for a few moments and admired the lovely back garden, softly illuminated by the moon and the stars which looked particularly bright tonight. At thirty-six, she was well aware that people thought she should be looking for a home of her own, but Mia and her dad were very close, especially since Lucinda’s untimely death at the age of just fifty, ten years ago. Mia didn’t have a steady boyfriend. She was happy to stay put. After all, this lovely house would be all hers one day.
Downstairs Douglas and Alex enjoyed a nightcap and a chat about the family business where they both worked. Retirement was looming and they were each relishing plans for trips abroad and generally a more restful pace of life. Alex took his leave at about eleven-thirty and Douglas went to bed, his thoughts returning to the party he had attended. It had been nice to be invited, especially since he had been the only non-family member there. He had always respected Cameron Ferguson and he liked his son. He felt proud to be the person who had helped to reunite them. It was just a pity that the process had involved Patty’s family. Patty’s best friend was Grant Cartwright’s mother, Cathy. That made things a bit awkward for all of them.
***
Kenneth had only come to suss out the area. It was too late at night to make his move; he would come back in daylight when he’d had time to think. But it was definitely payback time. No-one was going to seduce his wife and get away with it. But suddenly he saw the front door opening. Stealthily, Kenneth took a step sideways, allowing himself to merge into the bushes. The bastard wasn’t in bed yet! He was walking down the driveway towards him.
All of a sudden he was just feet away. For a split second common sense and decency deserted him and a blinding rage took over. Kenneth stepped out from his hiding place and accosted his adversary.
“I don’t take kindly to people messing with my wife, McKendrick,” he snarled into the man’s face and straightaway gave him one almighty punch to the jaw. Taken completely off guard his victim staggered backwards, lost his balance, and fell onto the hard driveway, his head banging directly onto the sharp, jagged stones that bordered it. Immediately bright red blood started to ooze from a huge gash just behind his ear. His whole body shuddered momentarily and then lay perfectly motionless, his lifeless eyes staring into the moonlight.
He can’t be dead!! It isn’t possible!! It was only one punch! Gripped by panic and fear, Kenneth didn’t wait to find out. He bolted to the end of the driveway and looked furtively around in all directions. A couple walking a dog. He slipped back into the bushes until they were out of sight, then took another look. No-one about. The nearby houses were in darkness. Good. In a state of shock Kenneth walked all the way back to the hotel where he had parked his hire car, retrieved the few belongings he had left in his room and drove off. He had no idea where he was going.
Chapter 13
Jasmine spent the weekend sorting out her new home, putting everything in its rightful place and shopping for a few extra homely items to make it her own. The pink and beige striped cushions looked fantastic on the burgundy sofa and the creamy scatter rugs co-ordinated perfectly with the chintz curtains that Imogen had left behind. Upset as she was about the state of her parents’ marital harmony or lack of it, Jasmine determined to put it from her mind and let them get on with sorting things out in their own way. She didn’t want any further involvement. Wandering into the front bedroom she sighed with contentment. The new duvet she had chosen with its mass of bright cheerful colours was gorgeous; she would sleep happily in here and dream of wonderful romantic encounters. Which all ended the same way. She glanced at her new calendar with its paintings by some of the great impressionist artists.
It’s the second of October. I’ll entice him into that bed before Christmas.
The thought both thrilled her and terrified her. She had never slept with a man, had never felt the urge to explore a man’s body or to be touched intimately by anyone she met. At twenty-four she was beginning to worry that there was something wrong with her. It wasn’t that she questioned her sexuality in any sense of gender. She wasn’t attracted to females either. But everything had changed during this past week since he had entered her life. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She had fallen for him, hook, line and sinker.
Continuing to stroll through her new-found utopia, Jasmine entered what apparently used to be Jillian’s room and was now her painting studio. She had advised Imogen that she wouldn’t need the double bed that had been there when she first view
ed the apartment and Grant had arranged for it to be removed to the spare room in their own house. Imogen and Jillian had already settled on some kind of agreement with regard to things they owned jointly so that Jasmine only had to deal with Imogen. She had now purchased a small folding bed, just in case she had someone staying over but that didn’t take up much room and was pushed firmly against the wall. This gave her plenty of space for two easels and several canvases and drawing books as well as a cabinet for her paints, brushes and other paraphernalia and a small sofa. It was heaven.
The kitchen and bathroom were unchanged from Imogen’s period of residence in the building except that Jasmine’s rugs and towels were powder blue and lilac instead of yellow and orange. With everything else being white or chrome with just a few grey tiles dotted here and there, there had been no restriction on the colours she could choose.
Jasmine heard the doorbell ring as she left the bathroom on her tour of inspection. It was Maggie.
“I told you I’d call,” Maggie trilled, giving her a friendly hug. “I’m dying to see your studio.”
“Is Lawrence with you?”
“No, he’s popped in to see his parents. Now that Tania and Sam have moved out, it’s a bit less hectic there.”
Jasmine was delighted to have her new friend pay such an early visit. She took her through straightaway to view her pride and joy, the studio in the back room, and Maggie was more than impressed. “You are so lucky,” she enthused. “I love it.” Jasmine showed her some of her work and Maggie promised to send her some images of her own. They enjoyed a cup of coffee together.
On the way out Maggie indicated that she was heading upstairs to see Jillian. “This is very convenient for me,” she chortled, “having two of my friends living in the same building.”
Jasmine grinned. “It is pretty handy,” she agreed.
Maggie seemed to be weighing something up in her mind. “I’ve asked Mum to add you to the guest list for my wedding,” she then disclosed.
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