by Tara Hyland
At that, Theresa turned to look at her daughter, but there seemed to be no recognition in her eyes. Maggie frowned, unsure how worried she should be. Her mother had always been somewhat eccentric, and living alone these past few years she seemed to have got a little housebound, never wanting to leave the cottage, even for a night. They would ask her over for Christmas and Easter, and she would agree at first, but then make some excuse at the last minute and end up not coming. It seemed a little odd that she never wanted to see her family, but she was old and stuck in her ways, Maggie always reasoned.
But lately her mother’s strange behaviour seemed to be more than simple eccentricity. Whenever Maggie saw her, Theresa appeared absent. Maggie had first noticed it on one of her visits a few months earlier. She’d talked it over with her husband, Conrad, and it had been agreed that she would come to see her mother more often, to keep a closer eye on her. Then, if things really got worse, they could deal with it.
Seeing Theresa looking so vacant now, Maggie wondered if the time had come for her to take action. But then glancing around the kitchen, it occurred to her that perhaps she was overreacting. While her mother might be a little off these days, she still seemed perfectly able to look after herself. The house was spotless, if a little shabby, and there were sandwiches and cake sitting on the kitchen table, all freshly prepared today. Theresa herself looked clean and well-fed. If she’d really been losing her mind, surely there would be some more outward signs?
And it suited Maggie to think that way. Because the only alternative was that her mother came to live with her, and she wasn’t in any hurry for that to happen.
As Maggie went to put the kettle on, there was a creak from the floorboards upstairs. Instinctively, she looked up.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
Theresa seemed not to have heard. Maggie listened out for a moment, but everything had gone quiet. It was probably just the cat, she decided, and went back to making the tea.
An hour later, Cara finally heard the woman leave. She breathed a sigh of relief. Most times, she made sure she was out when Theresa’s daughter came round. But today it was too wet, so she’d hidden upstairs, trying to stay quiet. Her grandmother had warned her when she’d first come to stay that it was imperative that Maggie never found out that she was here. It seemed they had got away with it for another time. Cara just hoped their luck didn’t run out.
Chapter Twenty-two
Franny dozed contentedly in the comfort of the four-poster bed, revelling in the delicious feeling of having nothing to get up for. Stretching languidly, she rolled over onto her back, the cool silk sheets tangling around her naked limbs. A stream of light chinked through the heavy drapes, just enough to illuminate the grandfather clock that stood across the room: it was nearly midday.
With a soft sigh, Franny pushed back the covers. Slipping from the bed, she pulled on her ivory satin robe and padded across the room to the French windows, which led out onto the forty-foot terrace that ran the length of Max’s suite of rooms – their suite, Franny quickly corrected herself. She wasn’t at all surprised to find her husband sitting outside, reading a copy of the Wall Street Journal.
Hearing her step out onto the terrace, Max looked up from his paper and smiled.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’ Getting up, he walked over to Franny and kissed her, before giving a pointed look at his watch. ‘I was beginning to think I’d married Rip Van Winkle.’
Franny laughed. ‘Remember, darling, I am an actress: I need my beauty sleep.’
His hand reached up to touch her cheek. ‘That’s one thing you don’t need.’
Franny thrilled under his words. Max had been like this every morning since they got here: sweet, attentive and loving. This was how they’d started every day – breakfasting on the terrace, drinking Bucks Fizz to toast the start of their married life. These past four days at Stanhope Castle had been magical. Franny had been well-off as an actress, but not rich in the way that Max was. This was wealth on a scale that most people couldn’t even dream of. There was an army of staff, with maids to do everything. It seemed amazing to Franny that in a few short years, she had gone from cleaning up after other people to becoming the mistress of the house.
And what a house it was!
The morning after their wedding night, Max had taken Franny on a tour of Stanhope Castle. With over one hundred lavishly-furnished rooms in the main building alone, it was like exploring a museum. It was all about excess, a demonstration of wealth: from the bowling alley to the fifty-seat cinema to the series of Roman-style plunge pools in the basement. The grounds were equally impressive: 100 acres of flowerbeds, fruit trees and fountains, a veritable Garden of Eden. Alongside the main castle, there were four guesthouses scattered throughout the grounds – mansions in their own right.
The tour took four hours, and they still hadn’t seen even a quarter of the estate. With lunch about to be served, Max had insisted on showing his new wife one last room before they sat down to eat. He took her up to the fourth floor, where there was a door that led through to a spiral staircase. It was a steep climb, but finally they reached a lookout post at the top of the house. It had been part of the old lighthouse that had once stood there, Max explained. He’d asked the architect to incorporate it into the design of the house.
Max and Franny lingered there for a long moment, in the little room, with its glass walls and ceiling, looking out across the vast ocean. And then he said, ‘This is where it happened.’
Franny felt a chill pass over her. She had a feeling that she knew exactly what he meant, but she needed to ask anyway.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked nervously. ‘What happened here?’
‘This is where Eleanor climbed over the railings and jumped to her death.’
The words were said almost matter-of-factly, which Franny supposed was only to be expected when talking about a tragedy that had happened well over a decade ago. She was still trying to think up an appropriate response when Max turned and walked out of the room.
Franny stared down at the waves breaking on the black rocks below, and thought of what it must be like to feel so desperate that that seemed to be the only way out. An involuntary shiver ran through her body. It was almost a relief when Max called back to her.
‘Are you coming?’
She forced herself to look away.
‘I’ll be right there.’
She’d hurried from the room, thinking how little she still knew about the man that she’d married. It had been the one blight on an otherwise perfect four days.
‘Hungry?’ Max asked now, interrupting the memory.
Franny was pleased to have her attention diverted. ‘Starving,’ she told him.
Max turned back to the wrought-iron table, where there was a pot of coffee, fresh orange juice and a bowl of fruit. Reaching down, he plucked the biggest strawberry from the dish.
‘Here.’ Holding onto the stalk, he fed the strawberry to her. As she bit into it, some of the red juice escaped from the side of her mouth. Reaching up, he wiped it tenderly away with his thumb.
‘So what else takes your fancy this morning?’ he asked. ‘Eggs? Pancakes? Waffles?’
‘Um . . .’ Franny hesitated for a moment. He had a cook on standby, and she only needed to mention a dish and it would magically appear within twenty minutes.
‘Don’t take too long to decide,’ he chided gently. ‘The children will be here soon, so I guess you’ll want some time to get ready.’
At that, Franny felt her heart sink. It was four days since their wedding, and Max’s children were due to join them at the house that morning. She had tried to befriend them in the lead-up to the wedding, but her overtures had been continuously rebuffed. She sensed that Olivia was a little more open to getting to know her, but whenever Franny tried to talk to her, Gabriel would appear and find some way to intervene. It was all horribly frustrating, but she was prepared to make an effort because she knew how important it was to Max. P
lus, at the back of her mind, she kept thinking that if she got on with his children, surely it would be easier for him to accept Cara into his household, too.
‘Oh, yes! It’ll be wonderful to see Olivia and Gabriel again,’ she said with forced enthusiasm. ‘And of course I want to look my best for them.’ But even as she said the words, she knew that she wasn’t quite ready for the honeymoon to end. So loosening the ties of her robe, she said huskily, ‘But let’s skip breakfast. I think it’s more important that we make the most of these last moments alone together. Don’t you?’
Max didn’t need any further invitation.
Gabriel’s scowl deepened as the chauffeur pulled the Lincoln through the gates of Stanhope Castle. Max’s son had insisted on setting off early from LA that morning, wanting to make the journey before the midday heat kicked in. He hadn’t spoken to his sister much along the way, preferring instead to entertain his own dark thoughts. Now, as the car stopped in the driveway, Gabriel glanced up at the house and spotted his father and stepmother up on the balcony, locked in a clinch. Even from this distance, he could see his father’s hand disappearing beneath the folds of Franny’s robe. Gabriel nudged his sister.
‘Looks like our dear stepmother is working hard to earn her keep,’ he said dryly.
Olivia followed his gaze. ‘Gabriel!’ she scolded, as she caught his meaning. Unlike her brother, she couldn’t find it in her to hate their new stepmother. ‘I thought you promised to at least try to get along with her.’
Gabriel snorted in reply. Throwing the car door open, he got out. It wasn’t that he disliked Franny exactly. He just didn’t particularly want her in their lives. When he’d pictured what his stepmother would look like, it certainly wasn’t this young, beautiful creature, who was closer to his age than his father’s. He was tired of hearing his friends’ lewd jokes about her, and of how uncomfortable he felt whenever she was around. And while he understood that none of that was her fault, it was easier to direct his anger at her than the person he considered to be the real villain of the piece – his father.
He held out his hand to help Olivia out of the car. Seeing her downcast look, he suddenly felt bad. His sister was such a sweet, gentle person – very delicate and ladylike, almost in an old-fashioned way. So different to the fast girls he usually hung out with. She was so uncomplaining that sometimes he had to remind himself that this was even harder on her than him, and as the elder, he should be trying to make things a little easier for her. After years of neglecting Olivia, maybe it was time to be a good brother.
Gabriel forced a smile. ‘Come on, squirt.’ He picked up her case. ‘Let’s get you settled in your room.’
Franny was right to be apprehensive about seeing Max’s children again. Her new husband had organised for them all to sit down to a formal lunch in the refectory, Stanhope Castle’s imposing dining hall, which came complete with tapestries on the wall, and a long dining table decorated with silver candelabras. Four places were set at one end, and they sat there as a maid served them course after course, hovering to one side while they ate. Franny found the formality a little uncomfortable, but that was nothing compared to the awkwardness around the table. It was as bad as that first dinner in Max’s Holmby Hills mansion, with Gabriel taking every opportunity to make snide remarks, while Olivia just sat quietly, hardly saying a word unless asked a direct question.
It was a relief to Franny when Gabriel and Olivia went off to their rooms, and she was finally alone with Max. But unfortunately that wasn’t the end to the unpleasantness. Swept up in the wedding, there had been little time to discuss the finer details of what their life would be like once they were married. Franny was therefore more than a little surprised when, during their stroll through the grounds that afternoon, Max asked when the rest of her belongings were going to be delivered.
‘Delivered here?’ Franny asked. It had suddenly dawned on her that Max intended for them to reside fulltime at Stanhope Castle. ‘But I thought we’d be living in Holmby Hills.’
‘That would mean too much commuting for me,’ he told her. ‘I divide my time mostly between LA and San Francisco. Stanhope Castle is between the two places.’ Max must have seen the horrified look on his wife’s face, because he said, ‘That is all right, isn’t it, darling?’
In fact, Franny couldn’t think of anything worse than living in this isolated place all the time. But she didn’t want to object now and ruin their first few days of marriage. She was sure it was something she could twist Max’s arm about later.
‘Of course it’s fine.’ She forced a smile. ‘I just hadn’t given it much thought, that’s all. But you’re right, living here does sound like the most sensible idea.’
Max was due back at his office in San Francisco the following day. With no movie roles on the horizon, Franny had decided to officially take a three-month break from work, to settle into married life. But without Max around, she wasn’t sure what she’d do with her time. The household pretty much ran itself, under the watchful eye of Hilda.
‘I have no idea how I’ll keep myself amused,’ she confessed to Max, as they got ready for bed that evening.
‘Perhaps it’ll be a good chance for you to get to know Olivia and Gabriel,’ he suggested.
He was right, Franny admitted to herself, as she drifted off to sleep. It was the school holidays, so his children would be living at Stanhope Castle until the fall. It would be an excellent opportunity to bond with them.
So the next morning, Franny made sure to be up in time to have breakfast with her stepchildren. They were already in the breakfast room when she got downstairs, a large conservatory at the back of the house which caught the sun in the morning. Their conversation stopped as she walked in the room.
‘Good morning, you two,’ she greeted them cheerfully, determined to ignore the awkwardness. ‘I slept so well last night. Must be because it’s so quiet out here.’
She was rewarded with silence. The only sound was Gabriel continuing to noisily eat the plate of ham and eggs in front of him, occasionally slurping at his black coffee, while Olivia stared unhappily at her half-finished bowl of cereal.
But Franny refused to be put off. They were part of a family now, whether they liked it or not. So she walked over to the platters of fresh fruit and pastries that had been left out on the side, and began to help herself. This was her house as much as theirs, and it was about time Gabriel realised that. With a full plate and a glass of fresh orange juice, she walked over to the table and sat down.
‘Well, this all looks lovely, doesn’t it?’ Franny said. Olivia looked up briefly, and rewarded her with a small smile. A glare from Gabriel made the girl drop her gaze quickly, but it was enough to encourage Franny. ‘So do you have any plans for the day?’ she persevered. ‘If not, perhaps we could go for a drive somewhere? Your father said the surrounding area is lovely. Maybe you could show me some of your favourite places—’
‘Sorry. Can’t.’ Gabriel was curt. ‘I’m meeting up with some of the guys from school.’
‘Oh.’ Franny wasn’t exactly surprised by his reaction, but she was a little disappointed. ‘I see.’ She turned to Olivia then. ‘And what about you, sweetheart? Do you have plans?’
‘Olivia’s coming with me,’ Gabriel answered, before his sister had a chance to speak. ‘We agreed on this last night, didn’t we, sis?’ He turned to Olivia, who was chewing at her lip.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said apologetically, unable to meet her stepmother’s eye.
Franny guessed it was a lie. She suspected Gabriel hadn’t intended to take Olivia with him today, and was just doing it to spite her. She also had a feeling that Olivia would have happily spent the day with her, but that her first loyalty was to her brother.
‘Of course,’ Franny said, not wanting to upset the obviously fragile girl. ‘I understand.’
‘It seems so mean to leave her here all alone.’
It was an hour later, and Olivia was feeling awful about what had happe
ned at breakfast. Franny had only been trying to be friendly – it seemed unfair to abandon her like this.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’m sure she’s forgotten it already.’
‘Perhaps.’ Olivia was doubtful about her brother’s assessment of the situation.
Gabriel gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t have time for your conscience. We’re already late as it is. If you’d rather stay here with our dear stepmother then just say. I won’t mind.’
It was said in a way that let Olivia know that he would mind very much. She was torn. She knew the right thing to do would be to go and see Franny, but she also knew it would annoy her brother. She was looking forward to today, and she didn’t want Gabriel going off without her. He never usually invited her along to spend time with his friends, but since their father had announced his marriage to Franny, her brother seemed to be attempting to include her more. She wasn’t sure whether it was because they were both getting older, and so he was finding her less irritating, or if he was just doing it to spite their stepmother. But whatever the reason, she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise their new relationship.
‘I guess you’re right,’ Olivia said reluctantly. ‘Let’s get going.’
She knew very little about the plan for the day, apart from that they were meeting some of his friends. They drove along Highway 1, in the direction of San Francisco, for about forty minutes, before Gabriel slowed his Mustang down and pulled over onto a patch of gravel. Apart from two other cars parked there, it seemed to Olivia that they were in the middle of nowhere.
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘You’ll see,’ Gabriel said mysteriously.
They got out of the car and walked to the edge of the cliff, and it was only then that Olivia saw the secluded cove below. Gabriel’s friends were already there – two girls and two boys – lounging under giant pink-and-white striped umbrellas.
‘How did they get down there?’ Olivia wanted to know. There didn’t seem to be any obvious path.
