FALLEN STARS
By
Margaret Brazear
Copyright © Margaret Brazear 2015
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CHAPTER ONE
Tamsyn was just applying the poultice when she saw the young man striding across the driveway towards the stable yard. She had no idea who he was, or what he was doing here, but she narrowed her eyes against the glare from the sun to study him. He was tall and good looking, dark hair shining in the sunlight and he looked very conspicuous in a suit and tie on a hot day like this one even if he did have his jacket slung over his shoulder and his tie undone and hanging down. His clothes looked expensive as well, the sort of thing Kevin used to wear although he never looked as good in his Armani suit as this man did.
The farm was a long way from anywhere and Tamsyn could only think that perhaps his car had broken down and he couldn’t get a signal on his mobile. Why else would someone be out here on foot and dressed like that?
As he drew close to the rail where she had tied Mason, the old horse whose leg she was tending, she straightened up and turned to face him.
“Can I help you?” She asked.
He grinned as though she had said something funny.
“You don’t recognise me, do you?” He said.
She squinted at him, searched her memory.
“Should I?”
He held out his hand and she reluctantly took it in a handshake.
“I am your cousin, don’t you remember?”
She let out a sigh and smiled. Yes, a very distant cousin, not even second or third, and the last time they had met was at someone’s wedding or funeral; she wasn’t sure which.
“Ricky,” she said at last.
“Er, no, Ricky is rather juvenile for a man of my age. I go by Richard these days.”
Tamsyn turned back to the horse and bent to place the poultice on his front leg and bandage it in place. She had not seen this cousin for more than ten years, but her suspicious mind did wonder why he had crawled out of the woodwork now, just as Aunt Tilly had passed on.
“Just let me finish up here and I will be with you,” she remarked. “I expect you’d like a coffee or something.”
“I would, if it’s not too much trouble. That horse looks old.”
She straightened up and smiled at the old gelding as she stroked his neck.
“He is rather; thirty two we think. He can’t be ridden any more, of course, but we can still give him a good life. Stupid animal got his silly self wrapped round some barbed wire. Do you know about horses?”
“I know which ones to bet on,” he answered cynically.
She glanced at him as she led Mason back to his stall and checked his hay and water, then she came back out and stooped to climb through the rail and stand beside her visitor.
“I don’t go in for racing myself,” she told him. “We do have a few retired race horses here, though. Beautiful creatures but very skittish. Some of them were top winners in their day. We have some retired show jumpers as well.”
She fell into step beside him and they made their way back toward the house, while he looked around the acres of paddocks where horses and ponies in various stages of sickness and old age stood grazing the lush, summer grass.
There was a small fenced off area with shorter grass where grazed a small Shetland pony, all alone, although he could see out.
“What about that one?” Richard asked. “Why isn’t he out having the same good grass as the others?”
Her glance followed his. Was he really interested? Or did he just want to get on her right side?
“He has laminitis,” she explained. “Small ponies often get it from eating too much lush grass; it’s my fault. I should have moved him last week, but what with Tilly’s death and the funeral and everything, I am afraid it never occurred to me.”
He drew a deep breath.
“Tilly’s dead?”
“Yes. I thought you would have known.” Isn’t that why you’re here?
She stopped walking and looked at him suspiciously. Could he really not have known? It was in all the national papers, though hardly front page news. Still, they’d all carried a paragraph or two.
“If you didn’t know, why have you come?” She asked at last.
“I was hoping to see Aunt Tilly.”
She blushed.
“I’m sorry. I had such a lot to do and I didn’t think there was anyone in the family I hadn’t told. I must admit I forgot all about you.”
“I’m easily forgotten.”
She opened the door and he followed her into the kitchen, where she filled the kettle and switched it on. She reached up to one of the top cupboards and brought out a coffee jar.
“There’s a little bit of instant left,” she said. “Will that do? Or would you prefer some squash? It’s a little hot for coffee.”
He nodded.
“Thanks.”
“I’m afraid Aunt Tilly passed away three weeks ago. I really am sorry I forgot to write.”
“Oh, that’s tragic. I mean, poor old girl. It’s a shame I didn’t know she was ill; it would have been nice to see her before it was too late.”
“She wasn’t ill, Richard. She was ninety five. Her heart just packed up.”
“Oh, well. I don’t know what I’m going to do then. I was rather hoping she might put me up for a few weeks, just until I get things sorted with my ex.”
Tamsyn shot him a startled look.
“Ex what?” She said.
“Oh, my ex wife. The divorce turned a bit nasty and now she’s changed the locks and her solicitors have frozen the accounts until it’s sorted. I only have an allowance so I thought if I could beg a bed from the old girl, it would help out tremendously.”
“You can stay, if you want,” Tamsyn said. “There are plenty of rooms and I suppose you have as much right to one of them as I do. I could do with some muscle around the horses.”
His expression didn’t change, but she thought he wouldn’t be keen on that idea. Too bad. Turning up in an Armani suit and pleading poverty wouldn’t gain him any brownie points. Tamsyn thought there was more to it than that, but then since she’d discovered Kevin’s infidelities, she was a little suspicious of men. It was hardly fair to tar them all with the same brush.
“You live here?” He asked.
“Yes. Aunt Tilly took me in a couple of years ago after the divorce and asked me to help out with the animals. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Last time I heard you were in that super house in Epping, married and all.”
“Not any more. He ran off with some scrubber with blown up boobs and a facelift.”
He laughed.
“She can’t have needed a facelift, surely.”
“Not yet, but she will be needing one soon if I know my types, and I certainly know hers.”
He was silent for a few moments as he watched her pour water over the orange squash. She was certainly a lovely looking woman, quite beautiful in fact. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail, she wore grubby jeans and a checked shirt, and there wasn’t a trace of make on her smooth skin, but she was still beautiful.
Donna wouldn’t think of dressing like this or being without her make up. But then, Donna wouldn’t be tending a wounded animal either.
He still hadn’t decided the best way to ask his question, to find out how the land lie.
“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Your husband was loaded; you mu
st be entitled to a good chunk, surely.”
“I would have been, had he not put his company into liquidation and gone personally bankrupt. He has millions hidden away somewhere in the world, but my solicitor has never been able to find out where. I wasn’t going to divorce him till it was sorted, but I thought I had better or the scumbag might just try to claim some of Tilly’s estate. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all.”
Ah, so there was an estate to claim then and if she was concerned about her ex-husband grabbing part of it, that meant it had come to her, just as he suspected. He tried not to smile. This was just what he had hoped when he decided to come here.
Aunt Tilly was the sister of Tamsyn’s grandmother and Richard’s grandfather, which made them what? Second cousins? Third cousins? Cousins three times removed? He had no idea, but he did know he was as entitled to the estate as she was and all he wanted was his share.
He thought he needed it more than she did, but if she spoke the truth, perhaps he was wrong. Even so, the farmhouse was huge, the land was worth a fortune and there was plenty to go round. It was shaping up just as Donna had suggested.
He sat at the kitchen table and sipped his drink, watching her as she stood at the sink and washed the horse smell from her hands.
She took her time, her mind busy with questions about why this cousin had turned up now. He had never visited in all the time she had lived there, not even sent a Christmas card. He said Tilly’s death was news to him, but she had her doubts. She didn’t believe in coincidences.
At last she turned to face him, leaning against the sink.
“What I have never understood,” he said, “is where Aunt Tilly got all her money from. I mean, our grandparents didn’t have much, yet their sister was obviously worth a fortune.”
She laughed then, for the first time since Tilly had died really.
“You mean you don’t know?” She asked.
“Know?”
“I can’t believe you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
She turned and put her glass down on the draining board then straightened up.
“Come with me,” she said and he got to his feet and followed her.
Upstairs were eight doors, all panelled in solid oak and each one bearing a brass door knob. Richard followed her along the landing to the door at the very end, which she opened and led him inside.
On the walls were black and white photographs and full sized film posters, all in beautiful silver frames, all showing the lovely face of a blonde girl in old fashioned clothing.
“Ever heard of Matilda Scott?” Tamsyn asked him.
He gave her a look of astonishment.
“You mean, our Aunt Tilly? Our Aunt Tilly was Matilda Scott, the film star.”
“That’s right. Back in the thirties she was famous, made loads of films with some really big names. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”
He hoped he wasn’t blushing. Of course he knew; wasn’t that why he had come?
“No, nobody ever mentioned this.”
“Well, your grandfather probably thought it was immoral for his sister to be in the movies. I expect that’s what the bust up was about; Aunt Tilly would never even talk about her brother. I remember what a miserable old sod he was, always quoting the Bible at everybody. I hope he got his place in Heaven; he certainly worked hard for it.”
Richard nodded his agreement.
“I wonder what happened,” he said. “Do you think she stopped getting film roles, or what?”
That was the first honest thing he’d said since he came here. He really didn’t know what had ended Matilda’s career; he’d never been interested enough to find out. His confidence began to wane a little; he was starting to realise these were real people he was trying to con, not just names dragged out of his family tree.
“It’s quite a sad story actually.” Tamsyn moved to a shelf on which stood a silver framed, black and white photograph of a young man in uniform. She held it out to show him. “American airman,” she said. “Tilly was engaged to him. He was a young actor, just starting out in a few minor roles. They were all set to be married, then when the Americans came into the war after Pearl Harbour, he joined up. He never came home again, was shot down over Europe somewhere. She never got over it.”
“So she gave up acting altogether?”
“Yes. She sold everything she had in Hollywood, came home to England and bought this place. Then she heard about people in London who were bombed out; the councils were finding them temporary housing but not always their pets, so she started taking them in just until the owners were settled. It snowballed from there. Next thing she had horses and donkeys and that’s how this place evolved.” Her eyes wandered about the room as she stood with her arms folded. “She said she would give her love to four legged furry creatures in future; loving a man hurt too much.”
He studied the pictures for a few more moments, shaking his head in astonishment. His great aunt was a famous Hollywood movie star and he never took the trouble to know her, not properly. He felt suddenly ashamed of that.
“I’m amazed,” he said.
“Yep. Then after the war she started taking in racehorses and showjumpers who were past it, some of them quite famous. That’s how she chose the name for this place.”
He frowned.
“Sorry, I didn’t notice.”
“Fallen Stars,” she told him. “Her and the horses, all fallen stars.”
CHAPTER TWO
Richard made an effort to appear nonchalant as he strolled down the drive, just in case someone was watching. He didn’t want to seem nervous or too eager, and as he looked at the vast farmhouse and the paddocks behind it, he tried to think of the best way to approach things.
The driveway was about a fifty yards long and bordered on either side by flowerbeds, roses mostly. There was an electronic set of wrought iron gates, but they weren’t closed, which was just as well. He would hate to have to introduced himself to his long lost and distant cousin and explain what he was doing there, all through one of those silly little speaker things.
He wondered what she would be like. He hadn’t seen her for about ten years, not since someone’s wedding; he couldn’t remember whose. She’d only been fifteen then, so he hadn’t taken too much notice of her, but now he needed her help.
It wasn’t until he reached the front porch with its white pillars that he noticed the stable block to the side of the house. There was a girl there, a blonde girl dressed in old jeans and a checked shirt, and she was squatting down and doing something with a horse’s leg.
Richard supposed it was the hired help, a stable girl or groom or something of the sort. He expected Tamsyn to be an expensively dressed, sophisticated young lady; after all, if she had inherited all this, she could afford to buy the best. He knew what Donna would do with that kind of money – Harrods would be suddenly short of stock in the ladies wear and cosmetics departments, Bond Street would be suddenly bereft of stock.
Thoughts of Donna reminded him of the row they’d had before he left the flat to come here. She’d been furious when her gold card was declined in one of the Bond Street shops she frequented; she was not only furious, she had almost died of embarrassment, or so she kept telling him. And when he told her the police had frozen their bank account he thought she might murder him.
He’d been suspended for insider dealing. He hadn’t been tried yet and there was still a chance the company would drop the charges if they couldn’t find enough evidence to support their case.
It had all been very sudden; he’d had no time to withdraw any money before his accounts were shut down and all he was left with was a weekly allowance which went nowhere near supporting his and his wife’s extravagant tastes.
That was why he was here. When he’d read about Tilly’s death in the paper, he immediately recalled this farm. She had never married, had no children, so who was there to leave her fortune to? There was a piece about her having been found by he
r great niece, Tamsyn Chambers, who lived with her and his brain started to work overtime. This could well be a path to rescue, if only he played his cards right.
He dragged to mind his scant memories of Tamsyn; he remembered a skinny little fifteen year old, dressed in the latest gear, her hair some strange fluorescent colour and wearing shoes she could barely stand straight in. He’d had an invitation to her wedding some four years later, but he’d declined. He didn’t know anyone there and all it meant to him was yet another new dress for Donna, which she’d insist on.
He wondered what she was doing here and he wondered just what sort of woman she had grown into. When she straightened up and he saw her face, he was startled to see she was not the hired help after all. The last thing he expected to find her doing was bandaging the injured leg of an ancient equine.
***
Tamsyn phoned out for a takeaway then found some bedding in the airing cupboard.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you the guest room while we wait for the food.”
She led him up the stairs and along the hallway to the biggest of the spare bedrooms where she placed the bedclothes on the stripped down mattress and turned to look at him.
“There’s an en suite bathroom to this room, just through there.” She indicated a door. “I think there’s soap and stuff in there. Tilly liked to keep it all ready in case; in case of what I never found out. She was practically a recluse, so who she expected to visit I can’t imagine.”
She started to walk past him to leave the room; she didn’t notice the puzzled frown he gave the bedclothes.
“Oh,” he said. “I thought…”
She turned to face him, placing her fists on her hips.
“Thought what? Don’t tell me you’re one of those blokes who think any mention of the word ‘bedroom’ is an invitation to share.”
He blushed and tried out a smile. How to tell her he’d never made up a bed before, that they had a maid to do that sort of thing. At least, they did have. He doubted they could afford her any more. He wondered fleetingly how Donna would manage without her, then he turned his attention back to Tamsyn.
Fallen Stars: Lies: Book One of Fallen Stars Romance Series Page 1
