Scarred Survival (Scarred Series Book 5)

by Jackie Williams

  “And I know how betrayed she must feel too. Isn’t there anything you can do? I know that his covert work is meant to be a secret, but I know about it and I’m sure other’s must too.”

  Patrick looked up at her warily. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

  “You only know because you were ear-wigging from the back office yesterday. If I’d known that you were there, I would have sent you packing. As it is, I should make you take an oath never to reveal what you overheard.” His shoulders slumped and he muttered a curse as his beautiful wife shot puppy-dog eyes at him. He threw up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’ll try and work something out. Let’s just get today out of the way and maybe we can help them both find some middle ground. If they really feel this way about each other there had to be a way to make it work.”

  Half an hour later they were up at the château. Joe had already arrived with the first load of cakes that Ryan, Gemma and all the other men had made and was now helping erect the marquees before going back to collect Amy and Paul and the second batch of desserts. David was already out in the parkland with Ryan, raising the smaller marquees for the stallholders who would be arriving later.

  Geraldine bustled about with the beauticians organizing the therapy beds and products and supervising the electricians who were rigging up a supply for the hot wax treatments. Lucy and Geraldine’s brother, Jules, carried huge wooden squares, which would make up the solid floor for their free training sessions, out onto a waiting truck.

  Patrick took half an hour break while his puff pastry was resting to go and check his emails. Apart from ensuring that everything was running smoothly with the day to day business of the hotel he wanted to confirm that Bailey had sent his promised email. He didn’t know if he could use it to help Taylor but he wanted it just the same.

  He opened up his computer and scrolled down. Sure enough, there was an email from Daniel with an attachment. He opened it quickly and was just reading it when Ellen came to the door. She was holding David’s son, Robbie’s hand. He had a saw and a small hammer tucked under his arm and what looked like his father’s extending fishing rod in his other hand.

  Ellen mouthed ‘sorry’ as she walked in with a red eyed Robbie.

  “Hey!” Patrick beckoned his nephew over. “Have you come to help everyone?”

  Robbie shook his head.

  “Papa’s busy. He said it will be quicker if Joe and Ryan put up the tents alone and he left in his car. He said that I could help with the tables when he gets back later.”

  Patrick glanced curiously over the boy’s head. Ellen gave a frown before she shrugged helplessly. She obviously had no idea where her brother had gone to either and was clearly put out by his sudden disappearance. He turned his attention back to Robbie.

  “So what can we do for you? You look as though you are going to be busy.” Patrick gave his nephew a warm smile as he pointed at the saw and hammer.

  Robbie perked up immediately, but didn’t look his uncle in the eye.

  “I am going to be very busy for the next few days. I have an excellent plan, but I need some help. I want to know how to make a tree house. A proper big one with three bedrooms and windows and a roof.”

  Patrick nearly laughed as he wondered why on earth Robbie would need even more room what with the size of the château they lived in, but managed to hold it in. He wasn’t sure where the fishing rod came into this ambitious caper, but who was he to judge the mind of a small boy.

  “A tree house? A big one? Hmm, well, I think Joe might be more up for that than me, but maybe he’s busy too?” Patrick waited until Robbie nodded and then shrugged.

  “He’s all busy at the fair today and when he’s not working he’s playing with Anna. I know she’s sweet and all, but he goes real gooey eyed when he looks at her; like when he plays the kissing game with Lucy. Yuk! He’s not really interested in manly things at the moment.”

  This time Patrick had to disguise his bark of laughter with a cough. He must remember to look for Joe’s ‘gooey’ eyes when he next saw him. He made sure he wore a serious expression before he turned his attention back to Robbie.

  “Have you chosen any particular tree yet?”

  Robbie shook his head.

  “I just need to know what to do. I can see if there is a tree suitable then.”

  Patrick raised his eyebrows and glanced out of his office window into the huge forest on their doorstep. Good grief! There had to be no less than a hundred trees that would do the job. He hid another chuckle.

  “Well, the first thing you need to find is a tree with well splayed branches.” Patrick demonstrated with open fingers. “You don’t want to make the tree house platform and then discover that you have a dirty great branch sticking up where your bed should be.” Patrick gave Ellen a smile when Robbie grinned and nodded. “And you don’t want it too high either. Climbing up and down, hauling wood to make the thing is very hard work.”

  Robbie frowned again.

  “Yes, I understand, but how do I start? I think I can make the platform because Joe and I made one down near the river so we can sit and watch the birds without them knowing we are there, but I want to know the rest. How do I make the sides?”

  Patrick realized that Robbie was not about to give up. He looked at his watch. There was still plenty of time before he had to make the pastries. He pulled the other office chair to his side and motioned for Robbie to hop up. He took a piece of paper from the printer and began making notes and drawings that he hoped Robbie would understand. He knew that he, David and Joe would end up doing all the work, but Robbie had recently been so distracted and upset with all the talk of his forthcoming years at boarding school that Patrick found himself planning out a triple story tree house the like of which Peter Pan and all his Lost Boys could have lived in.

  Ellen stayed with them for a few minutes, looking down and smiling at Patrick’s grandiose ideas. She left a little while later, laughing and shaking her head.

  “My brother is going to be thrilled with you.”

  The two men sat on the therapy beds with Rebecca poised over a robust looking gentleman from the town and Delphine grinning greedily over Ben. The other sixteen men lining up behind looked on, yelling words of encouragement and sharing some good natured ribaldry.

  Ben swivelled and lay down with all the bravado of a seasoned trooper, but turned pale at the sight of the cauldron of heated wax and Delphine’s suddenly manic smile. He quietened as a sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow.

  He eyed his opposite number and felt a grim determination not to show any sign of discomfort as the Frenchman eyed him back, held up his fist and declared something that Ben thought meant ‘For the pride of France’.

  Ben raised his eyebrows and nearly laughed, but then the Mayor said a few words of welcome and blew a whistle. Delphine smirked as she pasted a wide strip of hot wax across his hairy pectoral. He winked up at her and smiled as she grasped the end of the strip of cloth that she pressed onto his chest with greater force than he thought entirely necessary. He whistled through his teeth nonchalantly, closed his eyes and waited.

  The first thought that registered with him was almost a question.

  What was that strange ripping sound, similar to when he undid the zip of his flies? For a split second he wondered if Delphine had unzipped his trousers.

  The second thought that occurred to him was that Ellen needed to revise her Risk Assessment strategy. It was clearly exceedingly dangerous to let people run around at a summer fete while carrying white hot branding irons.

  The third thought, if he could even call it that as it was more of a vow, was that he would swear on the Holy Bible never to admonish, ridicule or scorn a woman with a hirsute body ever, ever again.

  Nothing had prepared him for the wave of fire that seared his skin. The air whooshed out of his lungs, his eyes bulged in their sockets and he gritted his teeth until he thought they might crack as the agony shredded his nerves.

  While t
he gathered crowds yelled their satisfaction, the two queues of men had become shockingly silent behind him. He peered over his shoulder to see a row of ashen faces staring, wide eyed, back at him. Jason clutched the nurse, Charlotte’s hand in a death grip while the others looked around for any means of escape. Karl appeared to have attempted a run for it, but slowed by his lack of balance, was being tackled by two fierce looking French women as he tried to sneak away.

  Ben sucked in a deep breath as Delphine smeared another spatula of torture across his chest hair and he glanced across at the Frenchman lying next to him to see if he was experiencing the same level of suffering. He let out a bark of sympathetic laughter as he noticed Geraldine rushing up with what he assumed was a small bottle of smelling salts. She wafted it under the man’s nose and waited while the Frenchman spluttered, shook his head and came back around from his faint. He looked about him, clearly disorientated and as though wondering how he had found himself in a pit of Hell, before his eyes opened wide in horror as Rebecca spread a second dollop of hot wax over the matt of dark hair on his chest.

  More cheers went up from the pain hungry spectators as the torture carried on throughout the afternoon and although Madame Guillotine wasn’t anywhere in evidence, Ben and the other men felt some serious sympathy for the French aristocracy during the Revolution as they eyed the baying crowd.

  David was still pale after being taken behind a discreet screen by his wife, whereupon loud cursing and threats of dire punishments could be heard. He had returned to the festivities half an hour later and immediately walked, with a pronounced but awkward strut to the cider tent where everyone howled with laughter as he ordered and downed several glasses of the local brew, one immediately after another.

  The local mayor made a final speech and declared the day a complete success, even suggesting that Ellen make it an annual event. There were shouts of laughter as nearly all of the men suddenly took several paces backwards and some even disappeared into the forest that surrounded them. Both teams ended the afternoon declaring themselves the winners as the competitors paraded their sleekly smooth bodies and buckets for donations were filled.

  Ellen and Lucy had begun to clear what was left of the cake and pastry stall when Geraldine rushed up to them.

  “’ave you seen the children?” She was clearly trying not to panic.

  Lucy looked over her shoulder. A bare chested, silkily smooth Joe was grinning stupidly as he threw baby Anna, shrieking into the air and then caught her again.

  Ellen turned to smile at Patrick who was laughing as Rose kept poking the angry red blotches on his leg.

  Both women shook their heads.

  “Are they with David? He was feeling a little light headed after all the cider and went home a while ago.”

  Geraldine let out a relieved sigh.

  “Of course. I ‘adn’t thought of that. Poor man, ‘e is such a baby. ‘e ‘ad no idea what I ‘ad in store for ‘im...‘owever I think that ‘e will like being smooth all over when I slather ‘im with baby oil later.” She winked and gave an extremely seductive smile as she turned towards the château path.

  Ellen picked up another empty cake box and stacked it with the recycling.

  “I can feel baby number four coming along fairly soon. David is never going to be able to resist her if she’s going to massage him with oil. You just wait, give it a month and they’ll be announcing again.”

  Lucy scooped a stray dob of icing from the inside of a box and licked her finger.

  “I admire her courage. Maybe Amy’s news has made her broody again. Joe and I are going to wait a little longer before we try for another. I never realized how tiring a baby can be.”

  Ellen looked fondly at her husband playing with their daughter.

  “It took Patrick and I nearly five years to have Rose. We’re not worried if we never have any more. If it happens then we will count ourselves lucky. If it doesn’t, well, I’ve already been blessed once. It’s enough for us.”

  Amy walked across to them after making sure that Paul had gained his bearings and wasn’t about to fall over anything.

  “What a wonderful day! And weren’t we lucky with the weather.” She eyed the thick clouds scooting in over the estate. It had remained sunny all day but now the weather looked threatening. “I think we can open our tea rooms more or less immediately. Barely a crumb left. I can’t wait to tell Gemma that all hers and Ryan’s cakes sold out.”

  Ellen sighed.

  “It’s a pity she didn’t want to come. The way she feels, maybe she would have felt better waxing Ryan’s chest, you know, giving him a little pain back.”

  Lucy scoffed.

  “I think it’s going to take more than a little hair removal to forget what he did to her. It’s a wonder Patrick is okay with it all.”

  Ellen glanced between the two women and then at her husband again. Ryan stood next to him, rubbing his own newly bared chest and laughing.

  “Patrick’s so pleased that he’s alive I don’t think anything would make him not be okay with it. Covering it all up like that was terrible. Ryan’s had to live a lie for nearly ten years because their security systems weren’t adequate. He thought everyone on board that flight was killed; he was never told Gemma survived until recently. He never even knew it was her in the helicopter. Even though it wasn’t his fault he’s had to live with the guilt for so long, it’s a wonder he’s never broken under the stress. Gemma needs to realize that there was nothing he could have done differently. He told the truth right from the outset.”

  Amy swallowed the bite of almond pastry Lucy had given her and pulled her eyebrows together.

  “What on earth are you talking about? That’s not what was emailed to us in the official report. We were told he suffered a breakdown, completely lost it after picking up some injured guy and crashed the helicopter on terrible terrain killing everyone on board. He was only allowed back after extensive therapy and retraining.”

  Ellen dropped the box she was holding and stood with her hands on her hips.

  “That’s a lie! They would never let anyone who’d had a breakdown back for a start, but Ryan was in the same team as Patrick. He rescued Patrick, Alex and several others when they were blown up. Ryan was shot down a few weeks later when on another rescue mission. Information had been leaked by the same man who gave Patrick and his team away. They were ambushed within weeks of one another. Ryan is one of the best pilots they have, but even he couldn’t evade a missile launched directly at him when he was supposedly in a safe zone. The official word was put out that everyone had died in the hope that the traitor would slip up and reveal himself, but it just became worse. In the end Ryan was the only original member of the team left serving. No one else knew him so after he recovered from his fractured skull they brought him back with a completely new identity.”

  Amy glanced towards the two men.

  Patrick and Ryan smiled back at her and waved, but then they both glanced at Ellen, obviously having seen Amy’s anxious expression and having heard Ellen’s raised tone. Patrick left Rose with Ryan and started towards the group of women. Ryan squatted down on the grass and began to make a daisy chain for the little girl.

  Patrick had clearly guessed the subject of the women’s conversation.

  “What’s going on? You are not meant to talk about any of this.” Patrick hissed at Ellen.

  Ellen shrugged unrepentantly as Joe marched over. He held Anna over his shoulder and stood by the flap of the tent listening intently.

  “I saw the emails Alex and Commander Bailey sent you. The one you were reading when Robbie came into the office and asked you about making a tree house. I just looked over your shoulder when you were distracted and couldn’t help reading it. It backed up everything that Bailey told you yesterday. The trouble is that Paul and Amy have received a completely different email. It’s nothing like the one you had from either of the two men. It’s an official one apparently. I don’t understand why you need to hide the truth.�
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  Patrick frowned and glanced over his shoulder. Ryan was now talking to another two children and they were presenting him with more daisies as he popped the original chain around Rose’s neck. Patrick lowered his voice.

  “I’m not hiding the truth, but it’s meant to be a secret until he gets his medal. He’s been summoned to Buckingham Palace to replace his posthumous award.”

  Lucy gasped and then quickly slapped her hand over her mouth. Amy shook her head and clasped her husband’s hand as he came into the tent to discover what the fuss was about.

  “That email we have is a fraud. The truth is being covered up. Ryan’s being let go under a cloud, nothing awful, but not what you would really want on your record. He certainly won’t be allowed to fly for the forces ever again.”

  Patrick glanced back outside. Ryan now had a crowd of children gathered around him and was looking rather scared as they all held flowers in their hands. One of the local women came to his rescue and distracted the children by handing around the last of the toffee apples.

  Patrick gave a gentle smile before he turned back to the group. His lip twitched and he growled out his words.

  “I wondered why the decoration is a private one. I assumed it was because it was unscheduled. They’re covering the leak up, kicking him out and hoping his medal will keep him quiet. The bastards!”

  Ellen’s eyes widened.

  “Can they even do that? How are they allowed to get away with it?”

  Patrick breathed out slowly.

  “We were Special Services. They can probably get away with whatever they like. We’re bound by the Official Secrets Act for the rest of our lives. We shouldn’t even be talking about this here and we certainly can’t contradict anything officially. Nothing gets out unless those in charge release it. Taking a decade to discover who was selling out our troops isn’t good publicity, whatever way you look at it. We had a mole in the company and didn’t discover it for nearly ten sodding years! Unsurprisingly, the whole bloody fiasco has been shut down tighter than a nun’s...” He stopped quickly as Ellen raised an eyebrow at him.