by Sharon Booth
So, the dragon had arrived. Well, didn't that put the lid on a perfect day.
Crispin staggered to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Teddy sank down beside him, head in hands.
'Goodness, quite a party you've got going on,' said Lavinia. 'So, is this invitation only, or can anyone join in?'
'Well, you're not welcome, for a start,' said Honey. What the hell did Lavinia want? Well, her husband probably, but she could whistle for him. Honey suddenly decided that Crispin was worth fighting for, after all — even if he was a wimp, and not half as good looking as she'd imagined. At least he wasn't a bloody journalist.
She looked at Teddy, who appeared to have developed a fascination for the carpet. She was astonished, and a little afraid, at how hurt she felt to realise he'd been using her all along.
'Lavinia, I can explain,' said Crispin.
'Go ahead. I'm listening.' She sat on the opposite sofa and folded her arms.
Eden sank down beside her, looking deeply concerned for her. She always was a soft touch, thought Honey.
'Well, I — that is …' began Crispin.
'Shall I help you? You've been shagging Miss Carmichael here for some months now. You packed me off to Portugal, allowing you and her to rush off to your sister's holiday home in Dorset, then you came here. Correct?'
'How did you know that?'
Honey tutted. Honestly, he didn't even have the wits to lie. Moron.
Lavinia gave a mirthless laugh. 'We apparently have a mutual friend who has our best interests at heart. Romeo Lovegod ring any bells?'
Honey glanced at Crispin, who turned deathly white. 'Romeo Lovegod again. He's the little shit who messaged my father on Facebook and told him about me and Crispin,' she said. 'Who the fuck is he?' She noticed Eden was staring very hard at Teddy, who gave a loud gulp. 'You!' Honey dropped onto the sofa beside him, her legs weakened. 'You're Romeo Lovegod?'
His eyes filled with shame. 'Sorry.'
She gaped at him. How much worse could things get?
'He messaged me when I got home from Portugal,' said Lavinia. 'Told me, if I wanted to know where my husband was, I should head to Skimmerdale.'
'Darling, I'm so sorry,' whined Crispin. 'This has all been a dreadful mistake.'
Honey's blood boiled. 'A mistake! You said you loved me. You said she was a dragon who didn't care about anything but your career. You said your marriage was a sham.'
'You said what?' If Honey hadn't known better, she'd have sworn the dragon sounded upset.
'Well, be fair, Lavinia. If I wasn't a politician on the up, you wouldn't want to know. You don't really care about me at all, let's face it.'
'How can you say that?'
'Because it's true. Look, I've made mistakes —'
'Yes, and don't, for one minute, think that I don't know about them.' Lavinia reached into her bag and took out a handkerchief, dabbing her eyes.
'Oh, I know you knew about them. I made damn sure you did.'
'Why on earth would you do that? That's cruelty!'
Honey had to admit, it was a pretty low trick. He really was a shit.
'What does it matter? As long as I'm discreet, it's all right, isn't it? If I stay out of the papers, I'm free to do what I want. Isn't that the rule?'
'What are you talking about? What rule?' Lavinia sounded baffled.
Crispin seemed suddenly calmer. 'After my first fling — which really was a mistake, and I bitterly regretted it — I quickly realised you knew what had happened. You never said, but there were clues, and I waited for you to confront me about it.' He sighed. 'You never did, and eventually, it dawned on me that you didn't care. You didn't care what I did as long as it didn't impact on my career. Do you know how much that hurt me?'
'But, Crispin, I was heartbroken! I didn't say anything because I was afraid, if I pushed you, you'd leave me, and I simply couldn't bear that.'
Honey was aghast. 'Oh, please! You're not buying this crap, surely?'
They didn't seem to hear her.
'What couldn't you bear, Lavinia?' Crispin went on. 'Losing me, or losing the chance to one day be the wife of the prime minister? Or was it money?'
'How could you think that? I have money of my own, and I don't care about the position. Well, not really. I love you. I always have. You've broken my heart so many times.'
'Oh, God, Lavinia. I didn't realise. My poor darling.'
'Oh, Crispin, I'm so sorry you didn't feel loved.'
'For fuck's sake, what a pile of shit.' As the two of them fell into each other's arms, Honey rolled her eyes in disgust. 'You two absolutely deserve each other. I hope you'll be very happy.'
'Do you know what?' said Eden, as they kissed. 'I think they just might be.'
'Let's leave here, darling,' said Crispin, when he eventually managed to break the suction on Lavinia's lips. 'We'll start again. Forget this ever happened.' He looked at Honey as if he'd only just remembered she was there. 'I'm terribly sorry about this. No hard feelings?'
'No feelings at all,' she assured him. 'If you're both stupid enough to fall for each other's lies, that's your look out.'
'Rather harsh of you.' Crispin sounded hurt.
Lavinia tutted. 'She's a fine one to talk about lies, darling. You do know she's been sleeping with someone behind your back?'
'What?' Eden and Crispin looked astounded, while Teddy and Honey looked guilty.
Eden's mouth dropped open, as she looked from Honey to Teddy and back again.
Honey's face burned. There would no doubt be many questions fired at her before long.
'I can't believe you cheated on me,' said Crispin.
'Oh, bugger off, Crispin,' said Honey. 'You're a fine one to talk about cheating.'
'Who was it?' he demanded.
'What does it matter? You're back in the loving arms of your wife, aren't you?'
'Was it that farmer?' asked Lavinia.
Eden gave a little squeak. 'What farmer?'
'I must say, he looked absolutely devastated when I told him what you'd been up to. Another of your conquests. It's a wonder there's any elastic left in your knickers, they must be up and down so often. That's always presuming you wear any, of course.'
'What farmer?' Eden repeated.
'The one with all those curls. Rather gorgeous, actually, if a bit surly. Took me a while to find Fleetsthorpe, I must say. I had to ask at the shop, but, luckily, everyone seemed to know where Honey Carmichael was staying and couldn't wait to give me directions. Talk about the back of beyond. He was rather rude. Insisted he didn't know when you'd be back. I was about to go back to my hotel—if you can call it that—when, luckily, Romeo Lovegod came to the rescue again. Tipped me off that he'd found you and gave me this address.' She smirked at Teddy, who looked thoroughly miserable. 'Thank you very much, Mr Lovegod. Now, darling,' she added, hooking her arm through Crispin's, 'let's leave them to it.'
Honey clapped her hand to her mouth. This was all too much to take in. Teddy was not only a journalist who had been lying about his feelings for her and had even slept with her in order to get a story, but he was also the double-crossing rat who had messaged both her father and Lavinia to cause the most devastation he could. How had she been so stupid?
As Crispin and Lavinia left the cottage, she turned to Eden in despair. Eden would get some answers from him. Eden would know what to do.
She gave a little whimper on finding that Eden had gone.
The door slammed shut, and Honey turned slowly to see Teddy staring at her with puppy dog eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, appalled to find tears pricking her eyes. For the first time she could remember, Honey longed, with all her heart, to see her father.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cain cursed as his Rolls Royce bumped and bounced along the rough track. 'What kind of bleeding road is this? You'd think we were abroad. This ain't doing my suspension no good, that's for sure.'
Freya tutted. 'Well, what do you expect? Serves you right for bringing the Rolls.
You were showing off. I have no sympathy.'
'There's a surprise. How was I to know it would be like this? And this bleeding rain ain't helping. My bodywork will be filthy. Well, where the hell are we? We must be nearly there by now, surely?'
She peered at the satellite navigation system, which she'd been clutching in her hand for the last two hours, since it kept falling off the dashboard, in spite of Cain's best efforts. Freya hadn't been able to stand any more of his curses and frantic fumbling, as he'd tried to retrieve it, while keeping his eyes on the road. 'Should be straight ahead.' Unable to make anything out through the blur of the windscreen, she wound down the window and stuck her head out, looking around in obvious dismay. 'That must be it,' she said, nodding towards a distant house. 'God, what a bleak place. Poor Honey must have been going insane.'
Cain glared at her. 'Have you forgotten why we're here? Poor Honey, my arse. When I get hold of the little git, she'll wish she'd kept her hand on her ha'penny.'
'Charming,' said Freya.
She cursed, when the Rolls Royce bounced over a pothole and she almost hit her head on the ceiling. Cain looked horrified, stroking the dashboard of the car as if trying to soothe a wounded lover.
'We're here,' she announced as the car pulled up outside a large stone farmhouse.
Cain turned off the engine. 'You don't say. Thank God I brought you with me, I might never have realised.'
'Oh, shut up.' Freya fastened the top button of her coat and shivered.
'You can't be cold,' said Cain. 'It may be raining, but it's bleeding humid.'
'I'm freezing,' she said firmly, reaching under the seat for her umbrella.
He tutted. 'You always was a cold arse. Central heating on full blast in bleeding August. Used to sweat me bollocks off, and you didn't care. I reckon you're single-handedly responsible for global warming.'
'Don't be ridiculous. I took public transport the other week when I was protesting in Trafalgar Square.'
'Another pissing protest! What was it this time?'
She shrugged. 'Not sure. I think it was anti-fracking. Anyway, the point is, I didn't take the car.'
'Hmm. I'd have paid good money to see you on the tube,' he said.
Freya looked appalled. 'Are you insane? I got a taxi.'
Cain ran a weary hand through his straw-like hair. 'I give up. Come on, Lady Penelope. Let's go and give our daughter what for. And no falling for her sob stories, this time, right? We've got to be tough on her.'
'I'm not the one who gives in to her,' Freya reminded him as she stepped out of the car. 'You're the one who needs to man up. Okay, let's go and sort this bloody mess out.'
She put up her umbrella and strode purposefully to the front door, avoiding the worst of the mud and the biggest puddles along the way, and banged loudly, showing she meant business.
Cain stood behind her, hands in pockets. He wasn't looking forward to the confrontation. Honey had a way of making him feel so guilty, no matter what she'd done. Mind you, he'd have a few words to say to Old MacDonald. So much for keeping her out of trouble. This was all his fault.
He jumped as lightning ripped the sky into two jagged halves, and seconds later thunder roared overhead.
'Poor Jemima, living out here,' said Freya, shivering again and pulling her coat tighter to her chest. 'It's all rather Cathy and Heathcliff, isn't it?'
'More like Steptoe and Son.' Cain sniffed, eyeing the jumble of barns, stables, and various other outhouses suspiciously. Chickens lurked in the doorways, watching him with beady eyes. They were far too close to the house, for his liking. If they came anywhere near him, he'd soon demonstrate that he could bend it like Beckham. He started as a rat streaked past the barn, then let out a relieved sigh once he realised it was a dog. 'Scruffy little bleeder,' he muttered, putting a hand over his pounding heart, as if to calm it.
The door opened, and Cain turned, expecting to see a middle-aged, ruddy-cheeked farmer in a smock and wellies. Instead, a little girl stared up at them, a solemn expression on her face. She had a mop of dark curls and huge brown eyes that studied him curiously.
Freya put on her kindly voice, the one she generally reserved for when television cameras were around. 'Hello, little girl. Is your daddy around?'
'Yes.'
Freya glanced at Cain, who shrugged. Well, she'd asked, after all. 'Would I be able to speak to him?'
The girl considered. 'Probably not. He's not really in the mood for visitors.'
'Oh?' Freya patted her on the head, a gesture that was met with a look of suspicion. 'Well, I'm afraid we really need to see him. We've come an awfully long way and it's terribly important. We're Honey's parents, you see, and —'
'You're Honey's mam and dad?' The girl's suspicions vanished, and she beamed at them. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'
Cain wondered if Freya was as surprised as he was to see that the girl actually seemed fond of their daughter. 'Love a cuppa,' he confirmed, pushing past his ex-wife and following the girl into the hallway.
Freya stepped inside, too, folding her umbrella and propping it against the wall. She shut the door behind her, looking around the hallway, evidently pleasantly surprised at what she saw.
'Not quite the pit I imagined,' she whispered, as they walked behind the little girl and entered a kitchen that was like something out of a glossy magazine.
'Heavens,' murmured Freya.
'Christ,' said Cain. 'Who'd have thought it?'
'Sit down here, and I'll get Dad,' said the little girl. She gestured towards the table very politely.
'Thank you. You're very sweet,' said Freya.
'You'll have to be nice to him,' the girl informed them. 'Somebody came earlier and woke Georgie up, and it's taken ages to get him back to sleep. Dad looks ever so tired.' Having imparted that knowledge, she left the room.
'She must be Liberty,' said Freya thoughtfully. 'She's nothing like Jemima, I must say.'
'No, well, she ain't dead for a start,' said Cain. Freya glared at him, and he held up his hands. 'Sorry. Bit tense. Where the bleeding hell is Honey?'
'That's what I'd like to know.'
Cain looked up, shocked to see a tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway, holding the little girl's hand. He was nothing like Cain had imagined. If he'd known what this Eliot bloke looked like, there was no way he'd have let Honey stay with him. Why hadn't Freya warned him?
His ex-wife stood and held out her hand for the farmer to shake. He didn't take it but stood there glaring at them. Cain felt a momentary stab of satisfaction as Freya coughed nervously and sat down again, obviously embarrassed. Well, that was one point for the bloke, anyway.
'What are you saying?' Cain asked. 'You don't know where Honey is, either?'
The man shook his head. 'I don't.'
'Goodness. She really is terribly disobedient,' said Freya. 'I don't know if you remember me, Eliot. I'm dear Jemima's cousin. I know we spoke on the phone about Honey, but it's some years since we met. It must be —'
'Never,' he said coldly. 'You never bothered to visit, and we were never invited to any family gatherings.'
'Really?' Freya looked most uncomfortable, to Cain's amusement. 'Well, I'm sure I saw you once. Your face is familiar.'
'We've never met. Not even at the funeral. Like most of your family, you were too busy to turn up.'
'Oh. Well, it must have been a photograph somewhere.' She glanced at Cain, scowling when he grinned at her. 'Anyway, that's all beside the point. You were supposed to be looking after Honey.'
Cain nodded. She was right there. 'You promised to keep an eye on her,' he said. 'Yet, here we are, and there's no sign. And not only that, but she's been up to all sorts. We've had a tip-off. We know what she's been doing.'
Eliot glanced down at his daughter.
Cain folded his arms. 'That's right. We know. How could you let this happen, eh?'
Eliot sat down. Noticing how weary and strained he looked, Cain felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. After all, lo
oking after Honey was enough to make anyone look like that. He should know.
The farmer ran a hand through his hair and turned to the little girl. 'Ophelia, go upstairs and check on George, will you?'
'George is fine. He's asleep now, and, anyway, Libby's up there with him.'
'Well, get your coat and wellies on and shut the hens up for the night. I forgot, and I need to speak to these people alone. There's a good lass.'
'Is Honey in trouble?' she asked, a worried expression on her face.
'You bet your bleeding life she is,' said Cain.
Eliot closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. 'No, love. She's not in any trouble. I'll sort it. Just get the hens in, and then go upstairs for now, eh?'
She nodded and reluctantly left the kitchen.
Eliot turned back to his guests. 'I'm not sure what the hell's going on here but —'
'Well, I'll tell you, shall I? Bleeding Crispin Cavendish ring any bells?'
Eliot swallowed. His face was pale and there was a sudden look of sadness in his eyes. 'I know all about Crispin Cavendish,' he said, his voice harsh. 'I've had a visit from his wife, not an hour ago.'
'What? Lavinia was here? Bleeding hell, that's torn it.'
'So much for your party's golden boy,' said Freya gleefully.
'Time and place, Freya,' snarled Cain. 'Look, mate. I asked you to keep an eye on my daughter, to keep her out of the clutches of that swine, and what happens, eh? She's only bleeding shacked up with him right under your nose. And now you're telling me his sodding wife knows? How did all this happen, eh?'
Eliot stared intently at his hands, which he'd placed flat on the table. Cain wondered suddenly if he was planning to punch him and decided a less aggressive approach might be more suitable.
'Look, mate, I know what Honey's like. She's played us all for fools. We sent her up here thinking we could keep her out of the way of that philandering sod, but between the two of them, they've made idiots of us. All this time, we've been thinking she was safe out of his way, and he's been hiding up here with her the whole summer. I can't blame you for being hoodwinked, can I? Not when she's done it to us, an' all. And Gawd knows, we should have been suspicious that she came up here so easily.'
