Wolf and I swapped anxious stares behind Mum as she pressed the intercom button to reply.
‘Sorry, there’s no one here by that name.’ A flicker of recognition appeared on her face as she turned to us. ‘Isn’t that the young man from that rich family who did a runner months ago?’ she asked us over her shoulder. ‘Why on earth is somebody asking about him here?’
Wolf looked haunted. ‘Christine,’ he begged. ‘I can explain.’
Mum continued to engage with the rusty-sounding voice downstairs. ‘Sorry we can’t help.’
‘Are you sure about that, madam?’ the male voice probed. ‘I think you may know this gentleman under another name.’
Mum was perplexed. ‘Who is this?’
There was another crackle. ‘My name’s Charlie Ronald. I’m a journalist with The Informer newspaper.’
Mum aimed a confused look at us from over her shoulder and pulled a face before pressing the button again. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong address.’
Wolf risked a couple of steps towards Mum. ‘Chris,’ he said quietly. ‘Please listen.’
‘His name is Brodie Fairbairn,’ announced the reporter, ‘but you probably know him as Wolf Skyjack.’
I turned to Wolf and repeated, ‘“Skyjack”?’
Wolf simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘What can I say? I just liked it, yeah?’
Mum turned her head away from the intercom. Her face was tight. ‘What is he talking about, Wolf?’
Thirty-four
Mum’s head swivelled between us and the raspy voice.
‘You must have heard of Brodie Fairbairn,’ continued Charlie Ronald from downstairs.
Mum pulled her finger off the intercom button, plunging my flat into silence.
Wolf tried to take her arm but she shook him off.
‘I told you to tell her, didn’t I?’ I shot out at him. ‘I warned you this could happen and that she’d find out from someone else.’
Mum’s mouth fell open. ‘You knew about this? My own daughter and you didn’t think to tell me?’
The buzzer erupted again and a flush rose in my cheeks Enough. ‘You two need to talk,’ I called as I swung open my front door and clattered down the communal staircase. ‘I’ll get rid of this journalist.’
A fresh breeze hit my face as I opened the main entry door. Charlie Ronald was leaning against a wall, a dictaphone in his hand. He had receding black hair, a ruddy complexion and dubious taste in leather jackets. On seeing me he sprang forwards like a kangaroo on caffeine.
My mind was in turmoil about what to do or say, but right now Mum was my main priority.
‘Hi,’ I said crisply. ‘How can I help you?’
The evening light illuminated a greasy sweat on Charlie Ronald’s brow. ‘Sorry to disturb you. I’d really appreciate any information you can give me. I understand Brodie Fairbairn in staying with you.’
Who the hell had Wolf been talking to?
I tried for an innocent smile. ‘Sorry, Mr Ronald, but there’s no one of that name staying in my flat.’
Charlie Ronald’s ragged brows fenced like two warring caterpillars. ‘My source was very convincing. Reliable, too. They were adamant Brodie Fairbairn is staying with you.’
I pressed my lips together. I didn’t expect him for one minute to tell me but I thought I’d ask anyway. ‘Who gave you this false information? Who is this supposedly reliable source?’
Charlie Ronald smirked. ‘Now you know I can’t tell you that, Ms McDonald.’ Damn, he knew my name. ‘I’ve got to protect my contacts.’ He dug a hand into his trouser pocket. ‘I’m sure I heard a bloke’s voice in your flat just now.’
I dismissed his observation with a tinkly laugh. ‘Oh, that was just my boyfriend.’ I leaned in slightly towards him and immediately wished I hadn’t, my senses confronted by a tidal wave of cheap citrus aftershave. ‘If you really want to know what’s going on, your best bet would be Kitty Walker. She owns the True Brew tea room in town.’ Summoning all the acting skill I had, I carried on. ‘If there is any truth in what you’ve said about this Brodie guy staying locally, Kitty would know, trust me.’
Charlie surveyed me for a few moments. Then he pulled a notepad from inside his jacket pocket to scribble down Kitty’s details.
‘Sorry you’ve had your time wasted here,’ I smiled sweetly, ‘but I’m sure Kitty will be more than happy to help.’
Charlie continued to hover on the spot, delivering suspicious glances upwards at my sitting room window.
‘If you’re interested in a story about my new tea room I’d be more than happy for you to interview me.’
As I’d hoped, a glazed expression took over his features. ‘Thanks, but my newspaper isn’t into twee,’ he said pompously. ‘We’re more about the truth, you know?’
Yeah, that’s when you’re not getting your arses sued off, I thought.
Casting a final sidelong look at my petrol blue curtains, Charlie Ronald walked over to his car. ‘I’ll be back.’
How long I’d be able to stall him was anybody’s guess. I trudged back up to my flat on reluctant legs.
I stepped through my front door to be met with Mum and Wolf engaged in a shouting match in the hall. Well, to be fair, Mum was doing most of the shouting. Her face was almost as crimson as her kaftan. Wolf, on the other hand, looked positively anaemic.
I was hoping to scuttle past into my room unseen. So much for that.
Mum swished her hair back over her shoulder, like a silver whip. ‘And as for you,’ she snapped, hands planted firmly on her hips, ‘my own daughter! Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?’
Exasperation took over. ‘Mum, Wolf’s—er, Brodie’s—family is in stationery, not nuclear weapons.’
Mum’s jaw jutted further. ‘Don’t be so flippant. That’s not the point and you know it.’
Wolf rubbed his face helplessly. ‘Chris, I love you. I’m a prat for not telling you about my background but I was terrified I’d lose you.’
Mum’s mouth tightened. ‘Am I that much of an ogre?’
I transmitted a telepathic message to Wolf to not answer that, which, thankfully, he seemed to receive.
‘You’ve got to admit, Mum, you are intimidating when you go all political,’ I said.
She looked stung. ‘I thought you were Wolf Skyjack, struggling writer and visionary, not Brodie Fairbairn, stationery empire heir.’
Wolf’s leather bracelets slid down his tanned arms as he lifted them in the air in surrender. ‘Don’t you get it, Chris? Wolf Skyjack is who I really am. He’s the person I’ve wanted to be all along.’ He stretched out his hands towards her. ‘Thanks to you, these past few months I’ve been able to be the real me.’
Shock rippled through me when I noticed tears clinging to Mum’s lashes. She never cried. Not since the Fairview branch of ‘I’m A Woman, So Get Over It’ closed down in 2004. She used to say that crying was an indulgence she couldn’t afford.
Her voice crackled like tissue paper. ‘Right now, Wolf, I don’t know who you are.’ She then swung around to me. ‘And as for you, Lara, where was your loyalty?’
She dashed into the spare room and banged the door.
Wolf started after Mum but I pulled him back. Despair was carved into every detail of his face—well, what you could see of it under his brown beard.
‘Let me talk to her,’ I suggested.
Wolf heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. ‘I can’t lose her, Lara,’ he said in desperation. ‘She means everything to me.’
‘I know she does.’ I patted his shoulder. ‘Go and make yourself some tea.’
He sloped off into the kitchen while I scrambled together some words to say to Mum.
From the other side of the spare room door I could hear random thumps and bangs. I rapped gently and entered, not waiting for Mum to tell me to clear off. She was moving erratically around the bed, snatching up clothes and throwing them into a case.
I almost didn’t recognise my spare room. Like t
he rest of my flat it had a nautical theme, with a navy and sky blue bedspread and sea green satin cushions. Mum had put her own stamp on things already, though. Her fabulous collection of necklaces was draped over the oval mirror on the dressing table opposite the bed. They hung there like raindrops, in shots of vibrant colour. Every time she barged past, throwing and thrusting her belongings into her case, they rattled and jiggled ominously. Across the top of the white scalloped headboard, Mum had casually tossed one of her pale green shawls. The room even seemed to carry a different scent than usual, the apple-scented oil diffuser I kept on the windowsill obliterated by Mum’s lavender candles.
I smiled to myself. She made her presence felt wherever she went.
I clicked the door shut behind me and hovered. ‘Mum, please. What are you doing?’
She glanced up at me and then rammed a loose red shirt into the depths of her case. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’
‘Don’t you think this is a bit of a knee-jerk reaction?’
She swung round sharply to face me. ‘No, I don’t. He’s not who he said he was. Worse than that, you knew about it.’
‘Only in the last couple of days. It wasn’t a major conspiracy.’ I took a step towards her. ‘I’m so sorry you found out like this. I did tell him to tell you as soon as I found out about it but I honestly think he panicked. He was terrified of losing you.’
Mum’s eyes shone as she pushed a pair of canvas flats on top of a fringed shirt. ‘I feel like I don’t really know him now.’
I extended my hand and took her wrist gently. ‘Yes, you do. You heard what Wolf said. You’ve helped him become the person he is right now.’ With Vaughan lurking in my thoughts, I went on, ‘You are so lucky to have someone like Wolf. He’s risked so much to be with you.’
Mum started to reply but clamped her mouth shut.
‘He knew he’d probably be discovered once he returned to the UK, but thought that what he feels for you was worth the risk.’ I pulled her down to sit beside me on the bed. ‘And look at what has happened now. Some greedy cretin, probably a so-called friend of his, has dropped him right in it. They’ve gone to the press to make a few measly quid.’ I forced her to look at me before continuing. ‘And was that the first thing he was bothered about? That someone he knows and trusted went behind his back to the papers? No, it wasn’t.’ I cupped both her hands in mine. ‘The first person he was worried about was you, Mum. Wolf can’t help coming from a privileged background, can he? But he can help who he chooses to be with—and that’s you.’
Mum’s lashes were laced with tears again. ‘Did Wolf really say all that?’
Blimey! I’d only ever seen my mum like this once before over a man and that was when my dad died.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Yes, he did.’
She picked up a pale pink scarf from the case and played with it absent-mindedly. ‘He’s not that much older than you. What if he tires of me?’
I studied her, admiring her angular cheekbones and unblemished skin. ‘This isn’t like you, Mum. Your confidence levels are normally stratospheric. It’s far more likely the poor sod will struggle to keep up with you.’ I playfully nudged her shoulder. ‘After we lost Dad, what did you tell me?’
She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I told you that we’re only here once and to always grab happiness whenever and wherever it comes.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘I think you need to listen to your own advice.’ I stood up and moved towards the door. ‘Oh, and when you two make up, can you do it quietly, please? I’ve got a carrot and pineapple loaf to get back to.’
Thirty-five
My kitchen resembled a war zone.
Flour decorated the black marble work top and a trail of mixing bowls wound its way towards the sink. It was like somebody had picked up one of those snow globes, given it a wild shake and then emptied the contents across every conceivable surface. My frenzied bout of baking had been therapeutic—up to a point. Now all I had to do was tidy up the debris.
After I’d restored order, Mum offered to rustle up a quick pasta for dinner—that was once Wolf and she managed to peel themselves apart.
While she got started, I poured us all a glass of wine and slumped down on the sofa beside Wolf.
‘Thanks for whatever you said,’ he grinned through a tangle of beard. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ I yawned. ‘I just wish I was as good at sorting out my own love life.’
‘Oh?’ asked Wolf, clearly interested. ‘Is it anything to do with that Vaughan guy, by any chance?’
Geez, was there anyone who had missed our clearly less-than-subtle attraction to each other? Mum had most definitely noticed. Whenever his name happened to pop up, she’d narrow her eyes. After the revelation that Wolf was from a well-known, moneyed family, the discovery that her daughter had also locked lips with a member of the Scottish establishment might send her right over the edge.
My feelings for Vaughan pricked at my heart. Anton and the foaming waves of Malta seemed so distant now. It was as if that entire trauma had been experienced by someone else.
‘Lara? Earth to Lara?’
Wolf’s voice woke me from my daydreaming. ‘Sorry.’
He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘You don’t have to tell me, but it might help, yeah?’
I scooped my feet up underneath me and proceeded to show symptoms of a severe bout of verbal diarrhoea. I found myself telling Wolf everything: how I was desperate to make Thistles a successful business, Glenlovatt swallowing money, Gordon considering marriage to a woman he didn’t love, Vaughan’s dilemma about saving the house and helping his dad, and how I felt about the gorgeous, moody artist. Wolf listened carefully, nodding occasionally and offering murmured support at times. When I finally finished talking, I threw my head back against the sofa.
‘Your mum told me a few bits and pieces but I had no idea things were that bad—or that you were so crazy about this guy.’ He sat forward, all lean angles under his orange T-shirt. ‘But I can sympathise with Vaughan. It’s not all expensive clothes and Land Rovers, yeah?’ Wolf laced his fingers together. ‘Of course, being part of a family with inherited money does have its advantages, but when you feel you’re not cut out for all that crap . . .’ He heaved a long sigh.
‘My dad used to say that things have a habit of working themselves out,’ I said, ‘but what with this letter from Hugo’s will hanging over us all, I just can’t help but wonder what’s still round the corner.’
We sat in silence for a few moments, within only the occasional noise from Mum as she worked in the kitchen. Every so often, she’d emit a happy hum of some unrecognisable tune. Wolf acknowledged her singing with a grin.
I pushed a stray curl back from my face. ‘So who do you think went to the press about you staying here?’
Wolf’s mouth curled downwards. ‘I’ve got one or two ideas. There are a couple of so-called “friends” who might value money more than our relationship.’
‘What are you going to do now?’ I asked. ‘Although of course you’re both welcome to stay here for as long as you want.’ Surprise registered as I heard myself say the words. I must be mellowing. Not having Mum’s clattering jewellery or Wolf’s trainers abandoned in the hall was a strangely sad prospect.
There was determination in Wolf’s stare. ‘I’ve decided to take Chris to Edinburgh for a few days to meet my parents.’
‘Are you sure? Don’t you think you ought to re-establish your relationship with your parents first before dropping a bombshell like Mum on them?’
Wolf smiled, displaying a row of even white teeth. ‘And a gorgeous bombshell she is too.’ He stretched his arms lazily above his head. ‘My folks are going to have to accept things have changed. I’ve changed. Chris is part of my life now.’
How I wished I could be there when my mother, with her forthright opinions and boisterous laugh, catapulted into the Fairbairns’ world of charity dinners and horseracing.
‘And anyway,’ he carried on cryptically, ‘I have some business propositions to suggest to them.’
‘Oh?’
Wolf started to say something but fell silent when Mum swept in on a cloud of lavender.
‘Time to set the table?’ I asked her, uncoiling from the sofa.
She gazed at Wolf and nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
I went into the kitchen, unaware that Wolf had followed me.
‘Crikey! You made me jump.’
Wolf placed a finger to his lips and looked furtively over his shoulder to where Mum was placing the pot on the kitchen table. ‘Don’t worry about all that Glenlovatt stuff, yeah?’ he said quietly. ‘Things will be okay.’ He pulled open the cutlery drawer.
‘I wish I had your optimism.’
Wolf awarded me a wink. ‘I owe you one.’
I blushed. ‘Don’t be daft. I didn’t do anything.’
‘You’ve given me a bolthole here, and you got me and your mum back together. I appreciate it.’ He took out the forks. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll repay you for all your help.’
My brow creased. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, but he’d wandered back to join Mum at the table, leaving me with a pile of plates and a confused expression.
Thirty-six
My flat felt empty without Mum and Wolf crashing about in it.
Wolf had contacted his parents to say he would see them at their weekender in Edinburgh. There had apparently been joyous wailing down the phone from his mother and a series of gruff but welcome sentiments from his father. It was at this point he’d informed them that he was bringing his new ‘partner’ with him.
What the Fairbairns would make of my fifty-two-year-old mother with her voluminous kaftans, anti-capitalist philosophies and vaginal empowerment speeches was anyone’s guess, I thought. I hoped they wouldn’t choke on their foie gras.
Still, Wolf and Mum were deliriously happy. Wolf seemed to be more accepting of himself and a lot of that I attributed to Mum. She was like a whirlwind of positivity. Their future plans, however, seemed to be a bit hazy. And, while I missed them, I also wasn’t sure how I felt about the prospect of having them as lodgers on a permanent basis. In any case, they were due back from Edinburgh that evening and I was eagerly anticipating Mum’s review of Wolf’s family.
A Room at the Manor Page 19
