Jasmine stopped to draw breath.
“Well, it turns out that, once she knew his name, she was able to put two and two together and work out that Alastair and his father were the people her dad ploughed into back in 1990.”
“You can hardly blame her, Jaz,” reasoned Sam. “It was her father’s mistake, not hers.”
“What happened last night?” quizzed Tania.
“Maggie was there having a meal with her mum. We only spotted them at the end, when we were ordering coffees, and I invited them to join us. Maggie mistook Thomasina for our mum at first so they agreed and sat down but when Greta realised who was actually sitting beside her she really freaked out and spilt the beans. The weeping and wailing from the two of them was awful. Meanwhile Maggie was owning up to me and poor Alastair was stuck in the middle. I know she isn’t to blame. But I can’t get past the association. Or the fact that she has known for four months and just pushed it under the carpet. I got really angry with her and yelled a few home truths in her direction. It’s no wonder they asked us all to leave. People were trying to enjoy a nice relaxing meal.”
“Where is Alastair now?”
“He went home with his mum. So much for the romantic night we had planned. The mood was broken.”
“Have you spoken to Dad this morning?”
Jasmine shook her head. “I was hoping you might come with me. His behaviour was very irrational. I don’t think he’s coping at all.”
“Of course I will,” smiled Sam reassuringly.
“I wonder whether Lawrence knows about Maggie’s secret,” Tania muttered. “A murderer in the family. They’ve certainly kept that quiet.”
“Apparently she didn’t know anything about it herself until recently. The guy owned up to Greta on his deathbed. That’s the story she gave me anyway. I was just so mortified for Alastair. He’s been living with the consequences of it all most of his life.”
Tania gave her a hug. “He’s got you,” she said. “He’ll be OK.”
Sam and Jasmine drove to the family home in silence, each absorbed in their own private thoughts. Molly was due home any day now. What on earth were they going to tell her? They didn’t even understand it themselves. Kenneth was in the kitchen, dressed and clean-shaven. That was a bonus.
“You embarrassed me last night,” Jasmine accused, not mincing her words and coming straight to the point.
Kenneth accepted the rebuke. “Sorry, Love. I did hit the bottle a bit.”
“I heard you talking to your friend. You were dissing Mum. And it was just a few minutes after telling me you loved her and would do anything for her.”
“I’m under a lot of stress. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Well which is it? Do you still love her or do you think she is a ‘spiteful cow’?”
“Did I say that?”
“You know you did.”
Kenneth ran a hand through his hair. Even at fifty-five, he still had quite a lot of it, although it was rapidly turning grey. Sam came to his defence.
“It’s OK, Dad. Nothing wrong with a bit of bravado, saving face in front of your friends. But you need to cut down on the drinking.”
“I couldn’t understand why you were obsessing about Alastair’s mum and the accident,” put in Jasmine. “It happened so long ago.”
“I don’t know. It just caught my imagination. It was the drink. I’m so sorry, Love.”
“So what’s the party-line for Molly? Did you ditch our mum or let her go amicably? She knows nothing about this yet.”
“Amicably. Yes, all sorted amicably. She has nothing to worry about.”
Sam took the bull by the horns. “That’s not what you were saying, Dad, the time you begged me for that bastard’s address and told me he would soon be a dead man.”
Kenneth flinched. “Don’t be stupid,” he scoffed angrily. “Have you never made an idle threat? I was in shock.”
Jasmine frowned at her brother. What was he implying? That their dad had sent a hitman to Scotland while he himself travelled to Spain? Was he mad? How would Kenneth even know people like that and, if he did, how ridiculous would it be to believe that a person in that line of ‘work’ wouldn’t double check that he had the right target? She changed the subject.
“You missed the real drama last night, Dad.”
Kenneth looked interested. “What was that?”
“We found out who killed Alastair’s dad.”
Kenneth looked very uncomfortable. “How could the truth have come out now, so long after the event?” he enquired, raising an eyebrow and scowling.
“It was Greta Redpath’s husband. Greta’s daughter, Maggie, is one of my best friends. Was one of my best friends.”
“And how did this come to light?”
Whilst Jasmine explained what had happened in the restaurant, Sam glanced around at the neat and tidy kitchen and breathed in the fresh lemony fragrance. His father was managing remarkably well on his own. In some ways. He brought the conversation back to their own family.
“Why are you letting Mum call all the shots, when she is the guilty party?”
“What do you mean? How can she be the guilty one?”
“Well, she’s the one who had the affair! Waken up, Dad.”
Kenneth gave himself a shake. “Sorry, you’re getting me all confused, talking about two different things,” he backtracked. “Yes, of course she caused the break-up but I’m trying to save you all as much distress as possible. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re allowing her to trample all over you.”
“Don’t talk about your mother like that. Show some respect.”
“Like you did at the bar last night!”
Jasmine stormed out of the house. Something wasn’t adding up here. It was time to pay her mother a visit.
Sam lingered for a few extra minutes. “Is there something you’re hiding from us, Dad?” he asked gently. “You can trust me. Tell me anything. I’m on your side.”
Kenneth rolled his eyes and parted his lips but no words came out. Then he hugged his son tightly and patted his back several times. “Nothing to tell, Son,” he whispered. “Nothing to tell.” Their eyes met briefly and they both knew it was a lie. But Sam turned on his heels and followed his sister outside, keeping his sense of foreboding to himself.
***
Gertrude answered the door to Bradley and Jillian. “Come in, come in. And thanks for coming so promptly. Grant and Imogen are in Portugal,” she reminded them, “and we’ve been in touch with them of course, but we wanted to tell you something ourselves before it becomes common knowledge.”
They both gave her a questioning look, still wondering why they had been summoned to the house.
“There’s been a development. You were both here when I read out that letter we received via the police.”
Jillian gulped, hoping that her face wouldn’t give her away. She alone had picked up on the connection with Maggie right away but had never told a soul, not even Bradley.
“Marguerite has made herself known. Thomasina had a visit from the police this morning. The woman’s real name is Margaret Redpath, sometimes shortened to Greta. I believe you know her, Jillian.” There was no hint of rebuke in the remark; she was just stating a fact. Jillian nodded. “Thomasina actually met her last night and the truth emerged in conversation. Apparently the woman contacted the police today so that they could put the record straight so now the case really is closed.”
“Will there be any consequences?” asked Bradley.
“Legally, no. The man is already dead and left no assets worth talking about. But at least we have a name. Redpath, Dennis Redpath.”
“Is Alastair OK?” It was Bradley’s first thought. He had been looking out for his friend for so long. Indeed Alastair had recently been Best Man at his wedding
to Jillian.
“It’s awkward,” admitted Gertrude. “His girlfriend, Jasmine, and Mrs Redpath’s daughter, Maggie, are very good friends. But then you know that. She’s your friend too.”
“It’s so nice of you to tell us personally,” Bradley said, giving his surrogate grandmother a hug.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she smiled. “You’re part of the family.”
Jillian was afraid to speak. But then Gertrude put her at ease. “Neither Margaret nor Maggie knew anything about this themselves, like it said in the letter. Neither of them has done anything wrong. Hopefully we can all get past the fallout and remain friends.”
“I hope it doesn’t come between Alastair and Jasmine,” Jillian said hesitantly.
“It won’t. Those two are made for one another. Now, come and have a coffee. I want to show you some pictures I took at the wedding. Your dress was gorgeous, Jillian. Have you not got your official album yet? I can’t understand why these things take so long. And what about your new niece? I hope you have a picture or two on your phone. I can’t wait to see her. It won’t be long now until Imogen has her baby. Just think about it. I’ll be a great-grandmother. Milk and sugar? I can never remember.”
Jillian and Bradley followed her into the kitchen, both smiling. Granny Gertrude was always a ray of sunshine even on the darkest of days.
Chapter 24
OK. So you’ve chosen to ignore me which isn’t very polite. Don’t say you haven’t been warned when your cosy little world comes crashing down. You will always be an outsider. Scott
Grant handed the phone to Imogen. “I think maybe I do need to contact Cameron after all,” he said.
Imogen read the message for herself and nodded. “Do it now before you take cold feet. The guy seems to be looking for trouble.”
Grant forwarded the two emails and added a comment:
Hi Cameron. I don’t understand these messages from your brother. Thought maybe I should alert you to some friction in the family?? Grant
A reply came through almost immediately.
Thanks for showing me this. I need to speak to Dad and then I’ll get back to you.
They were enjoying their last day in the Algarve before flying home and had stopped at a beachfront restaurant in Albufeira. A young waitress arrived to take their order.
“Frango com piri-piri, por favor, e batatas fritas,” Imogen said with a smile, “e uma aqua mineral com gaz.”
“Sim. E por você, o senhor?”
“Cataplana peixes frescas e um copo de vinho tinto, por favor.”
The waitress complimented them on their Portuguese and took the order into the kitchen.
“Jillian said there is snow forecast for tomorrow,” Imogen laughed. “Isn’t it hard to believe when we’re sitting here in the sunshine, wearing tee shirts?”
“I don’t think it’ll come to much. Did she say anything about the whole fiasco with Alastair and Maggie?”
“She hasn’t seen Maggie. But apparently Alastair is fine. He stayed over with Jasmine last night.” She paused and then added, “I’m really glad that the mystery has been solved at last.”
“I’m sure you are.” Grant gave her a wry smile. “Have you told your parents?”
“No,” Imogen admitted. “I’m too embarrassed to mention it. Hopefully the news will filter through from Dorothy or Vincent. I don’t ever want to talk to them about it or think about the things I discovered in Mum’s diaries. Ever. Chapter closed.”
“I’ll get Mum to tell them on the QT. Save any awkwardness.”
“Thanks.”
They nibbled on some bread and olives and watched people strolling past and taking photographs of the beach. And then Grant’s phone started to ring. He checked the caller display and saw Cameron’s name.
“Hi, Dad,” Grant said, accepting the call and moving away from the table into a quieter area outside, where he sat down on a bench.
“Oh, you just made my day,” Cameron said, sounding very upbeat.
“By sending you those emails?”
“No. By what you just said. You called me ‘Dad’.”
Grant laughed. “So I did. Slip of the tongue.”
“Aww, don’t go spoiling it now.”
“OK, Dad.”
“I hope you’re having a lovely holiday. How is Imogen?”
“Great, thanks. I hope you didn’t mind me sending you that stuff. I ignored the first one a week ago but when the second one came in today I felt annoyed.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cameron told him. “Scott has always been very competitive but now he has turned nasty. Those messages to you were a disgrace.”
“Is he still in Canada?”
“No, he suddenly arrived home. He claims that he wants to be closer to Dad now that he’s getting on a bit. Says that eighty was a big milestone. But he has an ulterior motive.”
“He’s worked out that the boys are actually his?”
“Yes, but you have nothing to worry about. He has shot himself in the foot. In fact it’s bloody funny.”
Cameron started to laugh. Grant glanced back at the table and noticed that their meals had just arrived. “Can I phone you back?” he asked amicably. “We’re just in the middle of lunch here. It’s our last day.”
“That’s fine, Son. It’ll give me the chance to check a few facts. But be prepared for a laugh. Talk to you soon.”
Imogen gave him a questioning look as he retook his place at the table. The cataplana looked really appetising and was filling the air with the most heavenly aromas. It consisted of pieces of fish cooked in a type of stew made up of onions, garlic, herbs, tomatoes and peppers. The spicy chicken dish was also delicious. They both tucked in hungrily.
“I told him I’d phone back after lunch,” Grant explained. “But he says we shouldn’t worry. In fact he seemed to find the whole thing amusing.”
“Amusing?”
“Yes, although he did say the messages were a disgrace. Let’s just enjoy our lunch. We’ll find out what it’s all about later on.”
Grant was just savouring his last tasty mouthful when he heard a message coming through on his phone. Imogen popped a chip into her mouth and looked across the table at him. “Anything important?” she asked.
“It’s Cameron again.” He opened the message.
Sorry. I couldn’t wait to tell you this. But give me a ring anyway and we can have a good laugh together. We have a tradition in the family which concerns quite a valuable heirloom in the form of some antique jewellery. It is passed down to the eldest descendant on the death of the current owner, who is presently my father, Angus. With us being twins, it was agreed years ago that we would forfeit the opportunity and move it on to the next generation. Scott was determined that it wouldn’t go to you so he persuaded my father to change the rules in favour of the youngest living descendant at the time of his death instead of the eldest. That way it would go to Henry, which isn’t very fair to James, but that is beside the point. It seems that Scott has known all along that he was actually the father of both boys.
Anyway, he took Dad to see our solicitor and made the arrangements. So there it is, set in tablets of stone for the foreseeable future.
But what he didn’t know, and I told Dad to make sure he doesn’t find out, is that Imogen is pregnant! So, as long as Angus doesn’t drop dead within the next few weeks, his youngest descendant will be your baby. Ha ha. I can’t wait to see Scott’s face when he finds out.
Enjoy the rest of your lunch. Dad.
They both read the message and appreciated the irony of it.
“I wonder how much the jewellery is actually worth,” Grant surmised.
“Why does he not want Scott to find out about the baby? You don’t think the man would try to harm me in any way? Or make sure his dad dies before the baby is born?”
>
“No! He’s just milking the situation for as long as possible to get his own back. He sounds like a bit of a devious bastard, this uncle of mine, but I suppose he’s only trying to look out for his own.”
“But he has never accepted that they are his own!”
As soon as they had finished their meal and moved away from the restaurant, Grant took out his phone and called his father. Imogen listened as they both had another laugh at Scott’s expense. Then she saw Grant nodding in response to something she couldn’t hear. “I agree with you,” Grant said after a moment. “The sooner, the better. They have the right to know.” He listened again, still nodding his head, and then remarked, “Of course, that’s true. And I hope he does.” Imogen wandered down onto the beach to let him finish his conversation in peace. She kicked off her sandals and paddled in the water, allowing the waves to splash around her ankles. Although the air was warm for March, the water still felt very cold. One or two hardy individuals were in swimming a little further along and she shivered at the very idea of it. But they were laughing and squealing with delight, obviously enjoying the experience. Presently she saw Grant approaching and, as ever, her heart filled with love at the sight of him.
“Cameron and Lauren are going to have a heart-to-heart with the boys tonight and tell them the truth,” Grant divulged.
“Good.”
“And he said we shouldn’t get our hopes up just yet regarding that jewellery. Angus could live for years. Eighty isn’t old nowadays and he’s in pretty good health. There could be more babies in the family before he goes.”
“That’s true,” Imogen agreed, “although James is only sixteen.”
“What about Scott himself? He might decide to have another child just to spite us.”
“At fifty-one?”
“Plenty of fathers are that age and older.”
“Not if they’ve any sense. And sure he doesn’t even have a partner.”
“That hasn’t stopped him before.”
Double Cheque Page 16
