LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Rafi awoke on Sunday morning to find it was almost 9.30 a.m. Kate was already up and dressed.

  ‘Hi there, sleepyhead; your timing is perfect. I’ve ordered breakfast and the hire car is waiting for us downstairs.’

  They enjoyed their breakfast, and by 10.15 a.m. were on their way.

  Rafi took his trilby and cashmere scarf and a couple of the Sunday newspapers with him.

  The Home Counties curfew that had been imposed on Friday morning had been lifted at midnight on Saturday. The roads were unduly busy as the exclusion zone had severed the roads towards East Anglia.

  Their destination was the Suffolk/Essex border, where Kate’s family lived. They talked about her family and about her early years. It became obvious that she’d had a very happy childhood living in Kenya, where her parents had been farmers.

  ‘Then the carefree days ended,’ Kate recalled with sadness in her voice. ‘When I was twelve my grandfather died. We returned to England so that my father could sort out his affairs. The death duties were far larger than my father had expected and a decision had to be taken… Sell up in England to meet the huge tax bill and return to Kenya, or sell up in Kenya and live in the family home in Suffolk. My father chose the latter and following that decision everything changed. My schooling went from a relaxed private school to a large state school. My friends in Kenya loved outdoor activities: riding and hunting for creepy crawlies. Everything was tame in England. The weather was awful for five months of the year and people spent so much time indoors.’

  ‘Was it that bad?’

  ‘I had nothing in common with my new peer group at school,’ she said. ‘I was teased for my strange accent. My parents had promised that I would go to a good private school but it was not to be. My brother, Marcus, and I were sent to the local comprehensive school. It was only meant to be for the first year while my father sorted out the family’s finances. However, it soon became apparent that money was very tight due to the size of the Estate Duty tax bill and the large running costs of the house.’

  Kate paused. ‘Marcus is fifteen months younger than me. He contracted diphtheria as a child and was on death’s door for over a week. He pulled through, but the illness had made him partially deaf. In Kenya he grew up as if poor hearing was a minor hindrance. He was well catered for at his school and had the full attention of his own nanny to work with him at home. Sadly, in England things were totally different. Marcus didn’t fit into the education system, which lacked the flexibility to cater for his special needs.’

  ‘I remember,’ continued Kate, ‘my parents discussing our education. Basically, they felt that I needed to stay at the same school as Marcus, as he relied on me to protect him from bullies. So I stayed there for my A levels,’ she sighed. ‘I spent my gap year helping my father, working for the family business. It was then that my relationship with my parents crumbled. They had expected me to go off to university to read business studies or agricultural economics and to then return to the family business. I didn’t do that do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I had other ideas. I wanted to go into the police. I had a massive row with my parents, left home and enrolled at a police training college. At last, I had found something I really enjoyed doing. I shouldn’t brag, but I sailed through with flying colours. Whilst I was a young constable I studied part-time at the Open University Business School and five years later graduated with a BSc in Business Studies and Accounting. It was hard work, but in my heart I guessed that one day I’d want to go back to Suffolk and work alongside my brother, helping the family business, so I chose a degree I could use when I returned home.’

  Kate paused. ‘Sadly, things went from bad to worse with my parents. While I was at the police college I became friendly with Maurice. My parents did not approve of him as my boyfriend. I refused to back down and after a stormy weekend at home they disowned me.

  ‘That must have been hard.’

  ‘It was, and then my love life went to pieces. I was working long hours. Maurice wanted us to socialise and party more and in the end we went our separate ways. Kate smiled. ‘I focused on my work and studies and moved from the Met to the City of London police force.’

  ‘My relationship with my parents by that stage was nothing more than an exchange of Christmas and birthday cards.’

  They had reached the Suffolk border. ‘Are we getting close?’Rafi asked.

  ‘Yes, not long now,’ replied Kate, who noticed that Rafi was deep in thought. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine thanks, I was just thinking about family and friends. I was wondering if on our way back into London we could drop in and see an old teacher friend of mine, Major Charlie Staveley. Would you mind doing that? He lives just outside Hertford, in Great Amwell.’

  ‘Good plan – why don’t you give him a ring now?’ suggested Kate.

  His phone call successfully completed, Rafi saw National Trust signs to Leverthorne Hall and Leverthorne Vineyard, which they seemed to be following. Alongside the roadside was a tall brick wall. A large splayed back entrance, with impressive black wrought iron gates came into view. To Rafi’s surprise they drove through the gates up a tree-lined driveway. Leverthorne Hall was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Would you like to see where I grew up?’ enquired Kate with an impish grin, as they turned a corner. In the distance was a large Georgian mansion which could be described as impressive by anyone’s standards.

  ‘Not bad eh?’ said Kate. ‘Marcus and his family live in the west wing. My parents have the coach house and stable block. My brother has let most of the main house to the National Trust on a peppercorn rent. Says it makes life much simpler and lets him get on with the running of the estate and its businesses as a proper commercial venture.’

  Rafi looked at Kate. ‘So, all along, things like the suite at the Savoy were second nature to you!’

  ‘If only! As far back as I can remember, living here was a continuous round of penny-pinching. Just try to imagine: two acres of roof, rising damp, old wiring and cranky central heating… To name but a few of the house’s redeeming features – they all cost a fortune.’

  Kate glanced at Rafi; there was sadness in her eyes. ‘This is going to be difficult. I have not seen, let alone spoken, to my parents for many years. In the beginning I tried, but they would not answer my calls. I have kept in touch with Marcus. It was especially difficult when he found a girlfriend and wanted to get married, but my parents refused to let him have the reception here if I attended. In the end, he and Susannah decided not to get married. That, as far as my parents were concerned, was the final straw. The last time I went home was with Maurice. This time it’s with you in tow. Please don’t be surprised if this is a very short and fiery family reunion.’

  ‘Apart from Saara, I don’t have the luxury of having a family,’ commented Rafi. ‘It’s got to be worth a shot at patching things up between you and your parents. It’s just a shame that all the good work you’ve been doing has to be kept quiet until the terrorists are caught.’

  ‘A blaze of publicity might have been useful,’ mused Kate, ‘but this way we’ll see if there’s any real affection left for me.’

  The car stopped.

  ‘Whatever happens, you’ve still added one extra person to your life: me.’

  Kate turned her head and looked at Rafi. He could see the beginnings of tears welling up in her gorgeous eyes. She leant over and kissed him.

  ‘Right, let the charm offensive begin.’ Rafi groaned as he eased himself out of the car seat. His bruised lower back had not liked the prolonged car journey.

  Kate smiled. ‘Be your normal self. They get us warts and all.’ She gave his hand a squeeze and headed for the open front door. Rafi followed, with his trilby tilted over his eyes and the scarf round his neck and lower face.

  He marvelled as he stepped inside. The entrance hall could have contained his flat. They approached the National Trust booth where a kindly woman greeted Kate with a big smile.

/>   ‘Hello, Mrs Hindmarsh - isn’t it? I didn’t recognise you straight away.’

  ‘Don’t worry dear – it’s been over ten years. How lovely to see you again.’

  ‘How’s…’ Kate hesitated, ‘Danny?’

  ‘On excellent form, thank you. I have three grandchildren. He works in Sudbury now, in an office opposite the church. He would be pleased to see you, so do drop by if you can.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Hindmarsh, I’ll do that next time I’m up here. Today is a bit of a fleeting visit.’

  Mrs Hindmarsh nodded in a knowing manner and they proceeded on their way.

  They walked into a cavernous central hall. It was devoid of furniture. Its stone floor had small squares of black stone inlay to give it a criss-cross pattern. The main feature in the central hall was the grand sweeping staircase. There was a pair of large double doors to the left which led through to an impressively furnished drawing room. In front of Rafi the open double doors framed a view through what looked like a music room and on to the largest set of French windows he could ever recall seeing, with a vista down to a lake and a gazebo. To the right of the hall was a grand dining room.

  ‘How many could you seat?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I think we had about sixty in there for my twenty-first,’ she replied nonchalantly. ‘Come on, enough of the sightseeing; let’s find Marcus.’

  Kate took hold of his hand and led Rafi off to the right of the dining room, past a winding, back staircase, past a billiards room, down a long passage and past the kitchens. They climbed up a second set of back stairs and there in front of them was a normallooking front door.

  ‘Welcome to my brother’s flat,’ said Kate with a broad smile. She rang the doorbell.

  They were greeted by a beaming Marcus. ‘Great to see you, Kate. And if I remember correctly from your phone call, this must be Rafi?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate.

  ‘Susannah will be with us shortly; she’s sorting out the final touches to lunch. Let’s find Mother and Father. I have told them that you’ve a boyfriend with you, but not that it’s Rafi! I didn’t want to mess things up, so I thought it might be simpler for you to explain how your boyfriend has gone from being a terrorist to a good guy.’

  They walked down a small corridor, the walls covered in pictures of Africa. Marcus looked at Kate. ‘Happy memories!’

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply, ‘The best.’

  They came to a cosy sitting room with an open log fire brightening the cold February day. On the other side of the room was a large sofa and, parked in the middle of it, were two elderly people, who stood up slowly. They weren’t doddery but time had started to take its toll. They looked apprehensive. Kate walked forward and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, followed by a hug. She turned to her father, stretched out to shake his hand, had second thoughts and gave him a peck on the cheek and a hug. Rafi sensed that her parents were surprised by Kate’s attempt at reconciliation. They sat down. Not a word had been spoken. Marcus did the introductions.

  ‘Mr Rafi Khan, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our parents: Major Sir Percy Gant-Adams and Lady Yvonne Gant-Adams.’

  ‘You will no doubt have seen his picture in the papers recently,’ added Kate quickly. ‘He’s been working undercover for us. The full story will come out next week. We’ve only known one another for a week but I can assure you he’s a real catch and my first boyfriend in ages.’ And with that she planted a caring kiss on Rafi’s cheek.

  Wow, that was brave, Rafi thought. Talk about light the blue touchpaper and stand well back! Kate’s parents looked on awkwardly. But the tension eased as Susannah walked in carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and some orange juice. She exclaimed in delight when she saw Kate. The tray was put down next to Marcus, who uncorked the bottle with a pleasing pop, charged the glasses and passed them around.

  The major lifted his glass, looked at the bubbles and took a sniff of the bouquet. Then he stopped, looked at his daughter and said, ‘Please forgive me for not standing up again, but I would like to propose a toast.’ He raised his glass in the direction of Marcus and Susannah.

  ‘First I should like to toast our hosts without whom this reunion would not have happened – thank you both.’ The glasses were raised and an appreciative sip was taken by all. The major turned his gaze to Kate.

  ‘The second toast is to Kate, my long-lost daughter. Your mother and I look forward to you telling us what you’ve been up to. Marcus tells me that you’ve been heading up a team involved with the Bishopsgate bombing?’

  ‘Yes, Daddy – and a bit more besides.’ The conversation stopped in its tracks. It was as if Kate’s career was of little interest to her father.

  Rafi felt annoyed, but tried not to show it. He looked carefully at the major. In his youth he must have been a dashing and well-built man, and his wife must once, he guessed, have been a slightly willowier version of Kate. She had the same auburn hair and warm brown eyes.

  Susannah looked at her watch. ‘Lunch will be in ten minutes. Please excuse me while I put the vegetables on.’

  There was a silence. Rafi waited for someone to break the ice. Kate’s mother beat him to it. ‘Tell me Kate,’ she said in a frail voice, ‘I have been reading the papers. I am confused. How precisely did you manage in the space of a week to turn a terrorist suspect into a boyfriend?’

  ‘It’s a long story. Rafi was set up. I was sent to see if he had information that could help us prevent more terrorist attacks. That was last Monday. Since then Rafi and I have been working flat out unravelling the terrorist conspiracy.’

  ‘I see, dear,’ came her mother’s uncertain reply.

  Marcus got up and recharged the glasses.

  ‘Don’t you drink?’ asked the major.

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Rafi. The major looked at him and hesitated before saying, ‘Do please call me Percy; it will make things less formal.’

  Rafi sensed that uttering those few words had broken the ice.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  The major continued. ‘Where do you come from?’

  ‘It’s not a very interesting story,’ Rafi replied, hoping to avoid the subject, but he was encouraged to continue.

  Rafi took a mouthful of the orange juice and then began. ‘My father owned a bakery in the East End of London. I was educated at Haileybury and then studied for my Bachelors and Masters degrees in London.’

  The major nodded, hoping for more.

  ‘Up to a week ago, I was a senior fund manager in the City of London. The rest, as they say, is history.’

  Kate skilfully switched the conversation to Leverthorne Hall and its vineyards. It transpired that Marcus had studied through the Open University Business School and had specialised on the marketing and product development side of Business Studies.

  In the words of his mother, Marcus had turned the estate around. ‘There is now a small rural business park with a growing number of successful cottage industries and he has found an excellent farm manager to run the 3,500-acre farm.’

  ‘How big is 3,500 acres?’ Rafi enquired.

  Kate looked at Rafi as if acres to square miles was a ratio he should have known, and replied, ‘Five and a half square miles.’

  ‘Oh, really!’ exclaimed Rafi. There was laughter. He sensed that the tide had turned.

  ‘Lunch is ready,’ echoed through from the dining room, where Rafi soon found himself sitting next to Lady Yvonne, and opposite the major and Kate.

  Given the circumstances, lunch was a relatively jolly affair. There were a few hesitant pauses in the conversation, but the sheer joy of Kate and her brother being back together again, under the roof of the family home, was plain for all to see. They sat next to each other and chatted away at ten to the dozen.

  After lunch, the small talk continued over coffee and Rafi found himself the centre of the conversation. It seemed her parents found it simpler to talk to him rather than to Kate, lest they unintentionally reopened hidden wounds.
/>   Rafi’s background, his education, hobbies, work and involvement in uncovering the terrorist plots were all discussed.

  Kate looked across at her parents. ‘Did I tell you that I have also met Rafi’s sister, Saara? When I saw the two of them together, it reminded me how much fun we had when we were living in Kenya… all the grief of the last decade seemed irrelevant; I just wish we could be that happy again,’ she paused and fell silent.

  Her parents, who were sitting comfortably on the sofa, seemed overcome by emotions. The major looked at Kate and then his wife. ‘Kate, I agree; we did have a good time in Kenya. I am sorry that moving here caused such friction and hardship. Yes, we should strive to find that happiness again.’

  ‘But with a few more coats and jumpers,’ added Marcus with a laugh.

  Coffee had long been finished. There was a brief lull in the conversation. Kate looked at her watch, time had flown by, it was coming up to 3.30 p.m. She explained that they had a second visit to make on their way back to London, as a teacherfriend of Rafi’s had invited them for afternoon tea.

  They said their goodbyes and promised to be back soon.

  Back in the car, Kate looked radiant. ‘Thank you for being so patient and courteous through all the interrogations.’

  Rafi looked into her warm eyes. ‘My pleasure. It was fun, and I am hugely relieved it all worked out.’

  ‘Yes; after a shaky start – I can’t believe how well it went,’ said Kate.

  They had an uneventful journey and in what seemed like no time at all they were pulling into Gypsy Lane. They stopped in front of a red brick house. Great Amwell was only a couple of miles from Haileybury College.

  The major’s front garden was well-kept. They walked up to the front door, rang the bell and stood there, holding hands.

  A stooping silver-haired man answered the door. Rafi instantly recognised him – he had aged well, but was looking a little unsteady on his pins.