Jamie had no intention of changing a thing. If people couldn’t see the beauty of Bucklebury Farm as it was, they didn’t deserve to buy it. But she bit her tongue, because Kif was selling Bucklebury for her at a reduced percentage, and if that meant putting up with Tiona’s patronizing tone, then it was a small price to pay.
Just before lunchtime on Friday, knowing that Tiona was safely out measuring up Bucklebury Farm, Norma gathered up the information she’d carefully collated into date order, before tentatively asking Christopher if she could have a word. He looked a little bit wary, but could hardly refuse.
‘Of course. Shall we pop into Tiona’s office? It’s a little more private.’
Ironic, thought Norma, as she followed him in. She felt a little dry-mouthed with nerves. She wasn’t a vindictive woman, though she knew what she was about to do might make it look as if she was. What she was, more than anything, was loyal. She’d been loyal to Hamilton for over twenty years. Which meant that she was now loyal to Christopher, and she hated to see him being made a fool of. In more ways than one.
It had taken her all week to gather together the relevant paperwork. She’d had to wait for Christopher and Tiona to go out each day on their lunch break. It had been pathetic watching them this week, each of them making a great show of going out of the office separately when it was blindingly obvious they were meeting up at the pub down the road. Norma had been watching from the sidelines for some time as Christopher fell under Tiona’s spell; the fact that Zoe had been away the weekend before, when Christopher had taken Tiona out for dinner, had not been lost on her. And now it seemed they were in the throes of an illicit affair. Norma disapproved thoroughly, but in the meantime had taken the opportunity to go through the files in Tiona’s office. Tiona usually guarded them like a dragon, but love, or lust, or infatuation, or whatever it was, was making her careless.
She cleared her throat nervously. Christopher smiled at her, kindly.
‘I think I know what this is about,’ he said.
‘No,’ replied Norma. ‘I don’t think you do.’
Christopher looked startled.
‘I’ve been suspicious for a long time,’ she went on carefully. ‘I’m not one for making wild accusations. I’ve checked and double-checked my facts thoroughly. But I’m afraid there have been some… discrepancies in some of the sales that have passed through this office over the past year.’
‘Discrepancies?’
Norma laid her evidence out on the desk.
‘On all of these sales, the property has been quite seriously undervalued in the first instance. And then it hasn’t actually gone on to the open market. No details have been written up, no board has gone up, there’s been no advertising. And the vendor has accepted the first offer that has been made.’ She paused. ‘The only offer, in fact.’
Christopher was looking at her in horror. Norma felt quite distressed. He was such a gentleman, like his father – even if he had been hoodwinked by that little hussy. He would be mortified to think that Drace’s had been caught up in such immoral dealings. If word got out, their reputation, the reputation that had been so sterling up until now, would be in shreds.
Norma carried on her litany.
‘The purchaser hasn’t always been the same. Not at first glance, anyway. But I’ve done a bit of research. Each of the purchasers has been connected in some way to Simon Lomax.’
She said the name as if it should mean something, but Christopher looked blank.
‘I forgot – you probably won’t have heard about him. He’s a property developer from London. He pinpointed Ludlow as a hot spot about five years ago and started buying up houses by the handful. When prices shot up, he started selling them off at a huge profit. He’s made a fortune. And he’s still buying – at the right price. Most estate agents will have nothing to do with him. He’s not exactly unscrupulous but… well, let’s just say your father wouldn’t deal with him.’ She paused momentarily. ‘But somebody from this office has been.’
‘Do you know who?’ asked Christopher, though he’d already guessed.
‘Miss Tutton-Price,’ answered Norma, allowing herself to enjoy the revelation for one glorious moment, even though it was obviously causing Christopher distress. ‘I imagine that there was some sort of, well, shall we say incentive scheme?’
The word ‘backhander’ wasn’t one that would trip lightly off Norma’s tongue. Christopher just nodded gravely, leafing through the files she’d handed him.
‘Norma, would you leave this with me?’ he asked finally. ‘I’m sure you realize just how sensitive this information is, and if word got out… well, Drace’s would be ruined. I’m sure you don’t want that any more than I do.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Norma. ‘That’s why I brought it to your attention. You can’t carry on this sort of thing indefinitely, not without somebody cottoning on in the end.’
‘Well, let’s just be very thankful that it was you that spotted it, and not a client.’ Christopher smiled at her warmly, and Norma felt relieved that he wasn’t the type to shoot the messenger. She scurried out to her desk and picked up her handbag. She was already late for her lunch; she didn’t want the vegetable puffs to have sold out before she got to the bakery.
As soon as Norma left Tiona’s office, Christopher felt an overwhelming desire to be sick. There was no denying it. The evidence was there in front of him, in black and white. Tiona had been on the bung. Looking back, it must have been easy. The office had been left in her care when Hamilton had first fallen ill. She had every opportunity to run things exactly as she wished. And when Christopher had taken over, he’d left an awful lot of the responsibility to her, leaving her free to carry on. She had carte blanche. If it hadn’t been for the eagle-eyed Norma…
The burning question, however, had to be was she still at it? How treacherous was she? Christopher felt a trickle of cold sweat run down the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe it of her. How could he have been so taken in? She was so beguiling, so convincing. What kind of sick and twisted mind did she have, to sleep with him knowing she was committing serious fraud in the name of Drace’s? Every film about crazy women that he’d seen flipped through his mind. What, exactly, was her game? And how was he going to handle it?
There was, he supposed, just one small slim chance that, now she was in the throes of an affair with him, she regretted her past follies. Christopher looked through the files – the last transaction hadn’t even exchanged yet. It was a small house on Silver Street, owned by a Mrs Turner. He wasn’t sure what to do, whether it would be best to stop the sale before it went through in order to do the honourable thing and get Mrs Turner her best price – which was the estate agent’s moral undertaking. But that might open a can of worms…
And what about Tiona? How would he go about confronting her? And what would her reaction be? Defiant or regretful? Christ, it was scary. It wasn’t as if the dice were entirely loaded in his favour. He’d been sleeping with her. For God’s sake, he was to all intents and purposes in love with her! They hadn’t really had a chance to discuss where they stood with each other all week. They’d sneaked out at lunch, shared a few knee-trembling snogs in the secluded garden of a riverside pub, but they hadn’t discussed their relationship properly. He’d meant to, of course, especially in the light of Zoe turning over a new leaf, but as each day dawned it was too tempting to carry on with things as they were: deliciously thrilling.
He was well and truly compromised. How could he go in with all guns blazing, when she could quite easily turn and call his bluff? Which he had no doubt she would. She was obviously totally unscrupulous. Looking back on it, he wondered whether Tiona had suspected Norma was on to her. That would explain why she was so anxious to be rid of her. Well, thank God he hadn’t given in. He was, he suspected, going to be needing Norma more than ever in the near future.
He looked at his watch. Tiona would be back within the hour. He couldn’t face her yet. He needed to sort through th
e implications of the situation with a clear head. Work out where he stood legally and morally. Work out what risks he could afford to take. If there was one thing, just one thing, that had to come out of this intact, it was his marriage.
He went back out into the office, where Norma was licking the last of the flaky pastry off her fingers, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.
‘I’m going out for the rest of the afternoon. I need to think very carefully about how to handle this. Can I trust you not to say anything to Tiona? I need to get my facts absolutely straight before I talk to her.’
‘Of course,’ said Norma. She wasn’t going to say a word. She was going to relish sitting there all afternoon knowing that Tiona was for it.
On Friday afternoon, Jack and Olivier sneaked off to the garage in Lower Faviell, where the delivery they’d been awaiting had finally arrived. At the last minute they’d agreed to go halves on a new set of tyres, an extravagant luxury that neither of them could afford. The old set should have lasted another couple of outings, but they both felt that as the Corrigan Trophy was the pinnacle of the season, the one race Olivier really had a chance of winning, it was worth the expense. Jack had kept the purchase quiet from Jamie by having them delivered to the garage. It seemed wicked to spend several hundred pounds on something so frivolous when she was taking the sale of the house so hard. And she’d bitten both their heads off at breakfast when she’d found Olivier’s racing overalls soaking in the sink and the washing-up not done. Yet again, she’d shouted, and they’d been aggrieved. They’d actually been very good about their domestic duties recently.
But she’d been in a black mood ever since the party. It wasn’t just that she was tired; she seemed defeated in some way, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her. Jack had seen her talking to Rod Deacon at the party – dancing with him at one point – and wondered if that was in some way cause for her mood. But he was frightened to probe; terrified of what he might unleash if he pressed her for the cause of her depression. So instead he laid low, keeping out of her way when he could.
The tyre change was completed swiftly at the garage, and he and Olivier returned the car to the barn, rolling it on to the trailer ready to leave for the racetrack at Sapersley at the crack of dawn the next morning.
‘Any idea what’s wrong with Jamie? She seems very down,’ Jack asked Olivier casually.
‘No,’ said Olivier. ‘Time of the month, maybe?’
Olivier hated himself for saying it. He didn’t think he’d ever used that as an excuse for a woman’s bad humour – to his mind it was a cheap get-out. But he had a better idea than Jack about her gloom. Even though he wasn’t sure of the full story, he’d also seen Jamie with Rod Deacon the night of the party. And, unlike Jack, he was privy to the fact that they’d actually spent the night together, and that Deacon had been conspicuous by his absence ever since. The incident had brought home to him just how out of his reach Jamie was – she patently only saw him as at best a friend, at worst a nuisance – and it hurt. So he was burying himself in the preparations for the race, focussing on making it a glorious triumph that would overshadow his frustration.
At six o’clock, Jack went off with Lettice to a drinks party to celebrate the end of the Ludlow Festival. Jack wasn’t entirely sure it was his scene, but Lettice loved mixing with the directors and actors and musicians who had contributed to this vital part of the town’s culture. The annual Shakespeare play, held in the ruins of the castle, had done as much to bring life to the town as its reputation for gastronomy, and the festival had grown from modest beginnings to include a literary festival and a jazz spin-off. Lettice had tried to persuade Jamie to come too.
‘You might meet a gorgeous hunky young actor,’ she’d cajoled, but Jamie was in no mood for socializing. In fact, she was looking forward to some solitude in which to prod her emotional wounds. Her nerves were in shreds. Despite her agreement with Rod that it was best if they didn’t contact each other, half of her, the half that believed in fairy tales and happy endings, had expected him to phone nevertheless and say he couldn’t live without her.
It was Olivier who caught the brunt of her mood when he finally came in from the barn. He wanted to spend the evening relaxing, not thinking too much about the race the next day, getting an early night. He couldn’t admit even to himself how important this race was. It was only Claudia’s presence that was making him nervous. After her father’s ridiculous proposal, he realized that her car would be kitted out with no expense spared, turning her into a formidable opponent. At the end of the day, if someone had enough cash they could put up serious competition, which was why in the end he’d agreed to blow the last of his savings on the tyres.
He found Jamie curled up in the leather chair in the living room, staring into space, looking thoroughly miserable.
‘Come for a drink at the Royal Oak. I’ll buy you scampi in a basket,’ he offered.
Jamie shook her head, smiling wanly. ‘No thanks.’
‘Why not? It’ll do you good to get out.’
‘For God’s sake, why can’t people realize I want to be left alone?’ snapped Jamie.
Olivier looked aggrieved. ‘Sorry. I was just –’
‘Yeah, well, don’t just.’
Jamie knew she was being unreasonable, and put her hands up to her face, pressing her fingers into her sockets to stop herself from crying. She shouldn’t be beastly to Olivier; it wasn’t his fault that she’d found the love of her life and lost him again in the space of twenty-four hours. It wasn’t his fault that Tiona had been snotty about the farm. It wasn’t his fault that her father was planning on swanning off to the other side of the world with Lettice, even if the old bat wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. Which meant she’d be left all on her own, with nowhere to live and no one to love. A ball of self-pity rose up in Jamie’s throat and she choked back an enormous sob.
The next moment she could feel Olivier patting her on the shoulder awkwardly. The physical contact opened up the floodgates.
‘It’s so unfair,’ she sobbed.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Everything! And bloody Dad’s landed on his feet, as usual. Ducking out of his responsibilities. He didn’t have to stand here while Tiona Tutton-Price looked down her nose at this place. And he’s thinking of buggering off to Cape Town with Lettice. Mum hasn’t even been gone a year. It’s disrespectful.’
She looked at Olivier for support, but his face was stony.
‘Don’t you think it’s out of order?’ she persisted.
‘No.’ Olivier’s tone was flat.
Jamie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Olivier paused for a moment before looking at her defiantly.
‘I think that if you knew the truth about his marriage, you’d say good for him.’
Jamie thought she’d misheard. Or misunderstood.
‘What?’
‘I think he deserves someone like Lettice, after putting up with your mother.’
‘I think you’d better explain what you mean,’ said Jamie indignantly.
She looked at Olivier and felt a tremor of fear. The look on his face was grim. His tone sent a shiver down her spine.
‘It’s about time someone put you in the picture about your precious, sainted mother.’
Jamie’s hackles rose. ‘What picture, exactly?’
‘Your mother,’ he explained carefully, ‘ruined my parents’ marriage. They were perfectly happy until she came along. We all were.’
Jamie laughed in relief.
‘If your parents couldn’t get on, it certainly wasn’t Mum’s fault –’
‘Shut up,’ he said fiercely. ‘Shut up till I’ve finished.’
Something in his voice made Jamie obey him.
‘That day we were called in from the pontoon? My mother had just found your mother and my father in bed together. And your mother laughed. She just shrugged and laughed. Said they were bound to get caught sooner or later. She didn’t have an
ounce of shame. She couldn’t have cared less.’
Jamie was utterly outraged.
‘You’re sick –’
‘I tell you what makes me sick. Your father having to take the rap all these years. Everyone called him the irresponsible one. He took the blame. Because he was loyal to your mother – God knows why. He didn’t want your precious illusions about her shattered, even to this day.’
Jamie stood up, trembling.
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I had to suffer the truth. And the consequences. Thanks to your bloody mother, my mother almost had a nervous breakdown. I had to look after her. She was like a zombie doped up to the eyeballs on tranquillizers the doctor gave her to cope. And Dad was no better. Your mother had bewitched him. Every given opportunity, she gave him the come-on. Enticed him. Lured him. In the end he couldn’t resist –’
Jamie snapped. She hurled herself at Olivier’s chest, beating her fists against him.
‘Shut up! Shut up, with your filthy stinking lies.’
He stood impassively as she railed at him, not flinching from the blows, until she eventually collapsed in a heap and fell back into her chair. He stood over her, defiant.
‘I’m sorry it had to be me who told you. But I don’t think it’s fair on your father. The only thing he cared about was protecting you from the truth, even if it meant him getting the blame for everything. Even now! None of this is his fault, not really. It’s all down to your mother and her selfish, self-centred –’
Jamie clamped her hands over her ears.
‘Get out. Get out of this house. I don’t ever want to see you again.’
Wild Oats Page 34
