That caught Owen’s attention, and he sat a little straighter. ‘There’s no sign of any sheering or buckling of the fastenings?’
‘None at all. It’s like they were deliberately removed.’ That’s what his H&S guy had said too.
Owen glanced from Alex to Tom. ‘So, what are we thinking, some kind of sabotage? But what would be the motive? Not one of the neighbours, surely?’ They’d had a couple of noise complaints as invariably happened on sites like that, but Tom had gone out of his way to keep in contact with the neighbours, even sending them little notes about any particularly disruptive works so they could tackle any problems before they arose.
Tom shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’ His tone was vehement. ‘That site is fully enclosed and secured, and the scaffold’s alarmed. There’s no way anyone could get near that scaffolding unless they were supposed to be up there.’ Which narrowed the pool of potential suspects considerably. ‘And I’d trust Pete’s lads with my life. They’ve worked on a dozen or more jobs with me over the years and they’re never anything less than careful.’ He removed a folder from the rucksack at his feet. ‘Here’s the inspection logs for the scaffold.’
Owen flicked through them, knowing in his gut they’d all be in order. Tom was one of his very best guys, had been with him since not long after he’d started the business and Owen held him in very high regard. ‘I just don’t get it,’ he said, sliding the folder across the table to Alex.
Tom’s phone started to ring, and he cast an apologetic look at it. ‘Answer it, it’s fine,’ Owen said. He listened with half an ear as he watched Alex peruse the folder with much greater attention than he’d given it. If it hadn’t been such a serious matter, he might have smiled at her intense concentration. She was like a bloodhound with the scent, determined to hunt down her quarry.
‘I’m here with him now, lad.’ Hearing Tom’s comment, Owen pointed at the phone with a questioning frown. Grabbing a piece of paper, Tom jotted down the name of one of the young apprentices they’d taken on a few months back. ‘Why didn’t you say anything to me about this before?’ Tom asked with a shake of his head. ‘No, no, you’re not in any trouble, son, but you should’ve reported this straight away. No, it’s not like being a grass. Not when it comes to dangerous or stupid behaviour. All right, we’ll talk about this in the morning. You did the right thing by calling me. Goodnight, lad.’
Tom chucked his phone on the table as he ended the call. ‘Bollocks.’
‘You know what’s happened?’
He nodded. ‘Pavel’s just told me a couple of the agency lads have been ignoring the rules about smoking on site. There’s a balcony underneath that section of the scaffolding. Apparently, these boys removed the bolts so they can swing down onto it and have a crafty fag. Pavel saw them at it the other day and they told him to piss off and mind his own business, so he did.’
‘Shit. Well, all right then, looks like we’ve got our answers.’ He looked from Tom to Alex. ‘You two happy to handle what needs to be done?’
‘Yes, Boss.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Great. I know I can count on you.’ Owen stood and offered his hand to Tom who rose after him. ‘Get on home, it’s been a long day. And thanks for all your hard work as always.’
Tom shook his hand. ‘I can’t help but feel like I’ve let you down.’
‘Nah, mate. We can only do so much. If people are determined to act like bloody fools, it’s almost impossible to stop them.’
With a nod Tom left and Owen flopped down into his chair. ‘What a mess.’
‘I know, but we’ll get it sorted. At least no one was hurt.’ Alex’s reassurance didn’t make him feel any better.
‘I feel like I’ve dropped the ball. Left you stranded while I swan off to the coast and play happy families.’ A harsh bark of laughter escaped his throat. Talk about an unfortunate choice of phrase.
Alex walked over to perch on the edge of his desk, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. ‘If you’re worried you’ve put too much responsibility on me, please don’t. Everything’s been running like clockwork until this, and it’s like you said—we can’t do much if people are going to be idiots.’
He nodded. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m not impressed with how quickly you’ve grasped the nettle here. My head’s just not in the game anymore.’
She stared down at her shoes and then up again. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He’d lain awake half the night thinking about it. ‘I…I’ve been seeing this woman whilst I’ve been down in the bay—Libby. Anyway, I just found out she’s pregnant.’
‘Oh. Oh, wow! That’s great…I mean, is it?’ Alex looked so flustered he felt quite sorry for her. He’d never been one for personal stuff and then he’d just dumped that in her lap.
‘I’ve no idea. I’ve only known for a couple of days and I’m really struggling to get my head around it. Kids were never on the cards for me.’ He rocked back in his chair. ‘Not that it makes much difference either way, because she’s decided to go it alone.’
Alex frowned. ‘She doesn’t want you to be involved with the baby? But, surely you’ve got rights?’
Legally, perhaps, but morally? She was doing them all a big favour, especially the baby. Even so, he had a responsibility towards Libby, and he wouldn’t leave her completely high and dry. Whatever else happened, she would need his full financial support. Things were going to have to change. ‘She’s only doing what she thinks is for the best. My biggest issue is what to do about this place. I can’t keep splitting myself between two different locations.’
Her face fell. ‘You want to sell the business?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, but I’m not sure I can handle it on top of everything else. If I do decide to move to the bay, there’s no way I can keep trying to run everything from there.’
Alex tapped her lip. ‘I know we’ve been humming and aahing about it, but I think Nick’s just about ready to come on board full-time here. His main worry was there’d be too many cooks and the three of us would end up butting heads. If he and I took over up here, you could look at opening up a new branch of the company down there. I don’t mean necessarily in the bay itself, but somewhere close enough for you and Libby to give things a go if that’s what you decide to do. It’d be extra income all round and you’ll need all the money you can get now you’re going to have a family to support.’
‘I hadn’t even considered that.’ The breathless feeling in his chest started to ease. It would be a way to consolidate his business down in the bay, and Alex was right; if he was going to let Libby have the shop then he would need to replace that expected income stream with something else. He didn’t have to do things exactly the same way as they were in London, he could focus on smaller jobs like the work he’d done to help Jack and his mum with planning the conversion of the old farm cottage into a glamorous granny flat for her.
Sure, there was a limit to the amount of business he could drum up in the immediate area, but Truro was within an hour’s reach and the whole area around the bay was popular with the second-homes crowd. Working on the restaurant had really given him a taste for being on the front line of a project. It’d be like starting over again, but with the backstop of the London business behind him. He’d be on hand to continue helping Sam with the restaurant too, at least until it was fully up and running. He smiled at Alex. ‘You’re not just a pretty face.’
She laughed. ‘That’s because you’re the pretty face, and I’m the brains of this outfit.’
‘Cheeky mare.’ It was full of affection, though. ‘Are you sure you two can handle this place on your own?’
‘Do you even have to ask?’ She laughed at her own question. ‘Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be the control freak I know so well.’ Growing serious, she held out a hand to him which he took. ‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it, Owen. You’ve built a remarkable team here, so we have everything we already need to
continue your success. We can put whatever kind of transition arrangement in place that you want, but we can make this work.’
He squeezed her hand, then let it go. ‘We damn well can.’ And he wasn’t just talking about the business side of things either.
Chapter 21
It had taken Owen longer than he’d anticipated to get his affairs in London in order, so he didn’t make it back to Lavender Bay until the day before the Subterranean launch. Sam had assured him they were coping fine without him, which he tried to take in the spirit in which it was meant. Surprisingly, both Eliza and Beth seemed to be in his corner when it came to Libby, and although neither had spoken against her decision to split with him, they’d kept him up to date about her health which had been his primary worry.
He’d found an agent for his flat, and after several trips to the local tip the remains of his worldly goods were stuffed into every available space in his car. The furniture he’d left behind was mostly generic Ikea stuff and he’d never learned to attach much personal significance to his possessions.
He still didn’t know what he was going to do about things with Libby, but his gut kept telling him he needed to be here in the bay to keep an eye on her, and his gut was rarely wrong. Head more focused on her than what he was doing, he almost missed the lights changing on the pedestrian crossing and had to jam on the brakes to avoid a woman who’d stepped out onto it.
A familiar face glared at him from beneath the brim of a black furry hat, and Owen quickly wound down his window. ‘Sorry, Doris! Are you okay?’
‘Lord, Owen, you did give me a fright! And where have you been? You were supposed to come to tea with me.’
Oh, hell, he’d forgotten all about it. ‘I’m sorry, I had to go back to London to sort out some business. Can we make it another day?’
Her face split into a broad grin, and to his horror she marched around to the passenger side and stared at him expectantly. Leaning across the seat he popped open the door and she pulled it open. ‘No time like the present! You can give me a lift back to Baycrest. I baked a Dundee cake this morning, so we can have a slice of that with our tea.’ When he didn’t move, she turned her head to stare at him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
Five minutes later they were pulling up outside the retirement home, with Owen none the wiser as to how he’d let her steamroll him into this. ‘I really should be getting on, Doris. I’ve a lot to sort out.’
‘Surely, you can spare half an hour? If you’ve driven all the way from London, you must be starving.’ She placed a hand on his arm. ‘I won’t keep you long.’
Christ, she was probably lonely. This time of year did funny things to people, brought all sorts of stuff they tried to keep buried up to the surface. What would half an hour cost him in the big scheme of things? ‘It’d be my pleasure, thanks, Doris.’
Pocketing his keys, he followed her along a wide hallway decorated with a hard-wearing, but nicely patterned green carpet then turned left. She stopped outside one of the white doors spaced out along the corridor and unlocked it. ‘Come on in. Wipe your feet, please.’
She didn’t say to, but he saw the neat row of shoes beside the door and quickly slipped his off, grateful he’d found a pair of socks without a hole in the toe. He swore the mice broke into his dresser drawers at night and gnawed through them.
Careful of her hair, Doris removed her hat and hung it on one of the hooks beside the door. As she struggled with the buttons of her coat with fingers no longer nimble, he helped her ease it off then hung it beside her hat. ‘Thank you, dear. I’ll just pop the kettle on, won’t be a moment. Go in and make yourself at home.’ Doris waved towards an open door as she passed by it on her way to the little open-plan kitchenette at the end of the short hallway.
Stepping inside, Owen did a quick scan of the room before deciding where to sit. There wasn’t a lot of choice, although she’d managed to fit an armchair, a two-seater sofa as well as a gateleg table into the small room. A basket stuffed with skeins of wool and knitting needles rested beside the armchair, and it was also the closest one to the small gas fire on the wall, so he deduced that was Doris’s favourite spot and opted for the sofa. The velvet blue seat was deeper than he expected, and he had to tuck a couple of the many scatter cushions behind him in order to sit up straight.
Photographs covered every inch of the wall facing him, from black-and-white shots, through the garish shades of early polaroid film through to newer ones which had been printed onto paper and secured in modern clip frames. As his eyes scanned from left to right, he was able to follow the story of Doris’s life from early childhood right through to the present day where she sat, pride of place, surrounded by a group of grinning children, a fat baby nestled in her lap. ‘My grandchildren,’ she said with a proud smile as she entered the room carrying a tray laden with cups, plates and a huge china teapot hidden beneath a knitted cosy.
Jumping up, Owen took the tray so she didn’t have to bend too far to place it on the coffee table. ‘Thank you, dear.’ She took a seat in the armchair, her gaze straying back to the photo he’d been studying. ‘We took that just before last Christmas.’
‘It’s lovely. I didn’t realise you had family.’ From their first conversation about hating living alone after her husband died, he’d assumed her childless.
Her smile softened. ‘My Sheila lives up in Scotland with her husband and the kids. That’s them in the photo. Marcus is over in New Zealand.’ Her finger pointed to a smiling couple, a small boy perched on the man’s shoulders. ‘I haven’t seen little Nicholas since he was a baby, but I’m going over there for a month in February. I’ll soon have lots of new photos for my wall.’
She made herself busy, pouring the tea and doling out thick slices of cake for them both before settling back into her chair. ‘You don’t look at all well, my boy. What’s the matter?’
Owen sipped his tea, wondering what he could say without getting involved in a discussion about his situation with Libby. Or without her, as it were. He hadn’t told her about his plans to return, terrified she’d tell him not to bother. ‘Bit of woman trouble, that’s all.’ The outrageousness of the understatement almost curled his tongue.
‘These things happen, dear. Try not to fret.’ Apparently content to leave it at that, Doris continued to sip her tea. ‘As I said when I saw you the other day, I knew you reminded me of someone.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’m afraid inviting you to tea comes with something of an ulterior motive. When we talked, you said you were looking for a distant relative, but that’s not quite right is it?’
Caught off guard by her bluntness, Owen almost sputtered on his mouthful of tea. ‘My mother,’ he admitted after swallowing.
‘Ah. I did wonder. You have a look of the family about you, particularly around the eyes.’
Stunned, Owen put his cup down, trying to ignore the way it rattled against the saucer. His hands never shook. ‘You’ve remembered something about the Blackmores?’
Doris smiled. ‘I know them very well. I know I should’ve told you so at the time, but my first thought was to protect a very close friend of mine. If you’ll let me, I’ll try and explain everything.’ Speechless at her admission, he jerked his head in a nod. ‘They lived next door to me when I was a child; remember I mentioned living next door to the chapel?’
He didn’t but nodded again anyway. Just get on with it.
‘Gideon Blackmore was the minister there. And a more miserable, evil man I’ve yet to meet, God forgive me for saying so.’ Doris wrung a lacy handkerchief between her gnarled fingers. ‘He lived there with his wife and two children, Margery and Gerald. Margery was a great friend of mine, but Gerald was his father’s son to the bone. He followed in his father’s footsteps and took over as minister when Gideon dropped dead in the street of a heart attack. My mother always said it was the bitterness he held inside that killed him.’ She nodded as though agreeing with her mother’s opinion and Owen bit his lip, so he didn’t scream at h
er to get to the bloody point.
‘Ned and I had married and moved out, but Margery stayed at home, even after Gerald married and had a family of his own. She was devoted to the chapel, and kept house for them all. Gerald’s wife was always a sickly, wisp of a woman and didn’t stand a chance with a bully like that for a husband.’
Owen began to feel vaguely sick. The more Doris unveiled her tale of woe, the less he wanted to know about it. The cake he’d eaten sat in his stomach like a dead weight. ‘And you think I’m somehow related to them?’
Doris nodded. ‘Gerald’s younger girl got herself in a bit of bother, so to speak, and just upped and vanished one day. The word went around that she’d been sent to London to nurse an elderly aunt of her mother’s but even thirty years ago, we knew what it meant when a young woman left the community so suddenly.’
She extended a sympathetic hand towards him. ‘Time moves slowly in little towns like this, even more so in traditional households like ours and the Blackmore’s. A child out of wedlock was a thing to be ashamed of still. Even in the late Eighties. Sure enough, young Deborah returned home about seven months later, a bit plumper and an awful lot sadder than when she’d left.’
Deborah. Well, if he’d need any more proof, that name was enough. He’d never given Doris anything more than the surname. ‘Wh…what happened to her?’
Doris shrugged. ‘The rumours got too much for Gerald, I think, because a few months later he moved the whole family up north to Lancashire. I can’t say I was sorry to see the back of them, though I did miss Margery. We got a new minister—a lovely man. He’s still with us today.’
‘The pieces certainly seem to fit,’ Owen admitted. ‘You said this Margery was a friend of yours? And she was Deborah’s aunt, have I got that right?’
‘That’s right.’ Doris nodded.
Snowflakes at Lavender Bay Page 19
