She looked up at the sky. The rain seemed to be easing off as quickly as it started – one of those flirtatious summer showers whose only purpose was to annoy. The commentator was announcing the start of the race. She turned on her engine and the exhaust fumes hit her like a blast of amyl nitrate, giving her the sudden, mind-blowing rush of blood to the head she needed to focus.
Jamie pushed her way through the crowds, searching the seats for Jack, ignoring the strange looks she was getting. She knew she must look deranged, bedraggled from the shower, her face puffy and swollen from crying, but she didn’t care. She had sobbed all the way from Havelock House, trying to come to terms with what Rosemary had said to her. Of course, she’d wanted to dismiss it as the ranting of a grieving woman, but combined with what Olivier had said the night before, a horrible picture of the woman she’d loved best in the world was emerging.
Time and again Jamie had told herself it wasn’t true; that both Olivier and Rosemary had their reasons for being spiteful. But Jamie couldn’t deny that little memories were emerging to substantiate their stories. Bitchy remarks that Louisa had made over the years; visions of her mother engaged in what she had thought was innocent flirtation; periods when Louisa had disappeared for days on end, or descended into a black gloom. All of these reminders combined to give Jamie good reason to doubt her mother’s innocence. But she clung on to the hope that Jack would refute the slurs Olivier and Rosemary had made.
The commentator was burbling away, winding the spectators up for the start. It seemed as if the summer shower had gone as quickly as it had arrived; the sun had emerged apologetically from behind the clouds, and all around the circuit umbrellas were being shaken and folded up in relief.
At last she saw him, standing by the pit lane, his ancient Burberry mac over his shoulders, his eyes glued to the starting grid. The air was filled with the rich smell of fumes. As the Union Jack came down, and the cars surged forwards, she arrived at Jack’s side. He looked startled to see her.
‘Jamie! I didn’t think you were coming.’
‘I want to know the truth, Dad.’ She was standing there, jaw clenched, fists in a tight ball.
‘What about? What’s happened?’ Jack looked alarmed, as well he might.
‘I want to know the truth about Mum.’
Jack looked nonplussed.
‘What truth? What do you mean?’
‘About her affairs. With Hamilton. And Olivier’s dad. And whoever else. I want to know everything.’
All colour drained from Jack’s face.
‘Who’s been talking to you?’
‘Who hasn’t?’ said Jamie bitterly.
‘Jamie – I don’t think this is a good time. The race has just started –’
‘Bugger the race. I don’t care about the race!’
Jamie realized she was shouting, though the roar of the engines meant that she wasn’t attracting as much attention as she might. All eyes were on the racetrack; people craned their necks to watch the cars’ progress, not remotely interested in their domestic crisis. Nevertheless, Jack looked about him uncomfortably and put an arm round her.
‘Ssh – calm down.’
He drew her away from the trackside, away from the noise, away from the spectators.
‘I need to know!’ Jamie persisted, not caring if the entire audience heard what she was saying. ‘Did she have affairs with them? Hamilton and Eric?’
She was trembling with fury. And the fear of what she was about to discover. Jack sighed.
‘Yes. Yes, she did. But you mustn’t think ill of her, Jamie. It’s just the way she was.’
‘What do you mean – the way she was? You can’t say that about Mum!’
‘Jamie, I’m sorry. But it’s the truth.’
‘How many other people?’
Jack shrugged helplessly. Jamie persisted.
‘Rosemary said there were lots of other people. That she did it all the time. Who?’
‘I’m not going to stand here and name names. Not when she’s not here to defend herself.’
‘Why did you let her, Dad? I don’t understand…’
‘It was the only way,’ said Jack simply. ‘I loved her. And it was the only way I could keep her, to turn a blind eye. If I’d tightened the reins, she’d have been off. She always came back to me, because she knew I was the only one who could manage her. No one else would have put up with it.’
He paused, and the babble of the commentator rose to a higher level of excitement as the cars completed their first circuit. Jamie put her hand to her throbbing head, trying to take in what she’d been told. It was as if her whole life had been turned upside down: the two people she’d loved best in the world weren’t who she thought they were, and she was struggling to make sense of it.
‘I always thought it was you who played the field.’ She said it almost accusingly, as if she wanted that to be the case. Which perhaps she did – she was used to the idea of Jack the lady-killer. Not Louisa the man-eater.
Jack gave a sad smile.
‘Yes, well, there you go. I spent my life covering up for her, flirting with the wives so they would feel flattered and wouldn’t notice what their husbands were up to.’
‘Why didn’t you ever tell me? All my life I’ve blamed you for things you weren’t to blame for.’
‘I didn’t want to spoil your illusions about your mother. Because whatever her faults, she was a very special person. Our relationship was very complex, and hardly conventional. I would never have been able to make you understand.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ said Jamie. ‘I don’t understand. It just seems so unfair.’
‘What you’ve got to realize, Jamie, is that I was very happy with the way things were.’ Jamie saw that her father was on the brink of tears himself. ‘Fifty per cent of Louisa was better than nothing at all.’
Jamie looked at Jack with new eyes. All those years she’d thought he was weak. All those times she’d berated him for being spineless. When he’d had to be so strong. She thought of all the harsh things she’d said to him over the past weeks, how he took her criticism unflinchingly and never defended himself when he had every right.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t liked it, I’d have walked away. And just remember, none of this changes how she felt about you. She was a wonderful mother to you. Don’t let what you’ve found out spoil any of your memories.’
Jamie felt as if she needed to be hugged. Badly. And looking at Jack, she thought perhaps he did as well. He looked tired and drawn, as if the revelations about Louisa had taken it out of him. With a shudder, she thought how close she had come to rejecting him completely, how last night she had been so despondent about her life she would have packed up and left the country for two pins, leaving Jack all alone. If it hadn’t been for Olivier…
Olivier! How appallingly she’d treated him too, accusing him of lying, banishing him from the house. She had to apologize, make it up to him.
‘Olivier. I need to speak to him –’
Simultaneously, they both turned to look at the track. Three cars were leading the field – Claudia in front, followed by the little Morgan and then Olivier. As they approached the next bend, a gap opened up between Claudia and the Morgan. Olivier suddenly seemed to surge ahead, lining himself up to insinuate his way between them.
‘Jesus!’ said Jack. ‘He’s never going to make it. Not at that speed.’
Olivier’s teeth were gritted; his fingers gripping the wheel like a vice, even though he kept telling himself to relax. He couldn’t believe he’d let Claudia pass him – and the Morgan – but he’d been erring on the side of caution because of the wet track. Now he realized caution was not the way to win. They were approaching the bend known as the Devil’s Elbow: he knew from Claudia’s past performances that she didn’t have the killer instinct on cornering; that it was her weak spot. He could get by her if he didn’t let his nerve fail hi
m; if the car gave him all she’d got. Which he knew she would…
He dropped down a gear and put his foot down. He knew it was reckless, like the craziest game of chicken, but it would give the spectators something exciting to watch. They didn’t want cars pootling sedately round the track. They wanted risks and drama and madcap foolhardiness, and that’s what they were going to get.
After all, he reminded himself, he had nothing to lose.
He was past the Morgan. He could get past Claudia, if he could just summon up a few more miles per hour. Grinning like a maniac, Olivier pressed his foot right to the floor and lined himself up, hoping against hope that his eye was accurate. An inch either way at this speed and he’d be toast…
Christopher sat in the pub. He and Tiona were having a late lunch. She’d gone into the main bar to order their prawn baguettes, and he was brooding over a glass of red wine. He didn’t usually drink at lunch, but today he needed it.
For some reason, the euphoria of his discovery that morning had worn off and he was starting to feel uneasy. After his confrontation with Tiona, he’d had a quiet word with Norma and assured her that everything was above board. The pitying look she’d given him had taken him aback rather. Then she’d said that, under the circumstances, she was going to have to consider her position at Drace’s very carefully. Christopher had started to protest, and she’d cut him off quite abruptly.
‘I hope you realize that whatever story she’s given you is utter rubbish.’ Her look was defiant, but Christopher could see she was upset. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t like to see you being made to look a fool.’
At the time, Christopher had told himself that it was just office politics, that Norma was reacting like that because she didn’t like Tiona pulling rank on her. But her words kept ringing in his ears. Had he been fobbed off?
Tiona’s bag was lying on the floor by her seat. She’d taken her purse to pay for the lunch. Her tiny little mobile phone was visible. He stared at it, transfixed. Did he have the nerve to check up on her? Did he want to know the truth? He could, of course, carry on with what he was starting to suspect was a charade. He could be his usual ostrich-like self, pretending that nasty things weren’t happening. Or he could take matters into his own hands for once. Prove he wasn’t a gullible, suggestible fool whose libido was ruling his head. Christopher swallowed. He wasn’t used to subterfuge and espionage. But he had enough sense to realize that there was rather a lot at stake here, and that he owed it to himself and his family to take control.
Tentatively, he reached out his hand for the phone, hoping fervently Tiona would be a few minutes yet. The pub was popular and busy with Saturday lunchers, so he’d probably got a bit of time.
Quickly, he flicked through the address book on her mobile. He stopped when he got to Lomax. That wasn’t actually incriminating in itself, he supposed. His pulse was racing as he fumbled with the keys – he’d got out of the habit of texting since he’d left London. Eventually he managed to stab out a message.
‘Got hot prop for you. 140k. Go or no?’
He wavered for a moment, casting an anxious look towards the bar. She could be back any second. He pressed ‘send’, then waited for the icon to indicate that the message had been sent before deleting it from her outbox.
Thirty seconds later the phone beeped. The reply had arrived. Christopher read it, a single word. ‘Go.’
His fingers raced over the keypad, sure and swift this time.
‘My fee has gone up. 3k up front.’ He jabbed ‘send’ before he could have any second thoughts.
The next thirty seconds were agonizing. Two beeps told him that the answer that would decide his future had arrived. He pressed ‘read’.
‘You’re having a laugh. 2k on completion or forget it.’
Christopher stared at the words, which branded themselves on his brain. He looked up. Tiona was standing there.
‘That’s my phone,’ she said accusingly.
‘Yes,’ said Christopher, placing it on the table. ‘I think you’d better sit down.’
He was surprised to find that he was icily calm. Tiona put out her hand to pick up the phone, but he snatched it out of her grasp. She looked at him, surprised.
‘You’ve just had a text from your friend, Simon Lomax,’ he said lightly.
‘So?’
Christopher knew she was capable of bluffing it out. She had nerves of steel. But he was ready for the kill this time.
‘You failed to mention he was paying you. When we had our little chat this morning.’
Christopher thought he now knew what it was like to corner a rat. Before his very eyes, Tiona turned from a vision of sweetness and light to a snarling creature with teeth bared and claws at the ready.
‘It was there for the bloody taking,’ she said viciously. ‘Why shouldn’t I make some money out of it? If I hadn’t pushed those deals through you’d be bust. And I never got any thanks for it.’
‘You were doing your job, Tiona,’ Christopher pointed out quite reasonably. ‘It’s what you get paid for.’
‘Not enough. I had to rip you off in order to survive.’
‘Well, at least I know now. We can review the salary for your replacement: make sure they don’t feel the need to sink so low.’
‘Replacement?’ Tiona’s eyes glittered.
Christopher allowed himself the luxury of a laugh. It was strange, but he felt exhilarated and in control. He had nothing to lose by calling her bluff. He suspected his worst mistake now would be to play into her hands.
‘You don’t seriously think I’m going to carry on employing you?’
‘But what about us?’
‘I don’t think our relationship comes into it any more.’
‘Doesn’t it?’ Her tone was dangerously arch. ‘I wonder what Zoe would have to say?’
Her meaning was abundantly clear. Christopher held her gaze firmly. He wasn’t going to let her frighten him.
‘Right,’ he said decisively. ‘This is what we do. You clear your desk. I’ll write you a glowing reference. And that’s the end of the matter. You say nothing and I won’t prosecute.’
She sat back for a moment, then gave an imperceptible nod of agreement. Confident that she didn’t hold any more cards, Christopher couldn’t resist a little dig.
‘On second thoughts, don’t bother to clear your desk. I’ll ask Norma to send on any of your personal possessions.’
He had the pleasure of seeing her lips tighten in annoyance. He knew bringing in Norma would goad her, but he felt vindictive.
A waitress appeared with their baguettes, standing by their table with a plate in each hand. Christopher stood up.
‘I think I’ll have mine to go.’ He took one of the baguettes off its plate and gave the waitress a dazzling smile before walking out of the pub without a backward glance.
As Olivier left the road, he felt a split second of terror and then icy calm as he waited for the inevitable. Time went fast and slowly simultaneously: the crash came all too soon, yet it seemed to take a lifetime before the crumping sound reached his ears. He sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, stunned. Then a voice inside his head told him to pull himself together – he knew he had to get out as quickly as he could, in case the car burst into flames. As he swung his legs over the side he could already see the fire and ambulance crews. He ran clear as a paramedic approached him. He waved him away.
‘I’m fine.’
‘I think we should check you over.’
‘I’m fine.’ Olivier couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice. He didn’t want any fuss. Behind him the fire truck was filling the car with water as a precautionary measure. Olivier wanted to tell them not to bother. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter if the car went up in flames. It was beyond repair. He’d felt the chassis going, the engine had gone through the floor, every single panel was dented. That’s what happened when you hit Armco at top speed.
Well, he thought bitterly. That tied everything
up very neatly. Not only had he betrayed Jack’s trust, but he’d trashed his most treasured possession. He looked around. Jack was bound to be on the scene any minute, and he didn’t think he could bear to face him. Because he knew Jack. He wouldn’t hold it against him. And Olivier didn’t think he could bear his forgiveness, not when he’d already let him down so badly…
As Claudia swept over the finishing line, an almost orgasmic thrill swept through her body. She’d done it! She’d bloody well done it! Grinning from ear to ear, she drew the car to a gradual halt. She turned to look behind her, to see who had come second. She could see the little Morgan, but after that…
She frowned. Something wasn’t quite right. The race seemed to have come to a halt behind her. She peered into the distance. Someone had come off the track, totalled their car. Pulling off her goggles and her helmet in order to see and hear better, she heard the concerned tones of the commentator.
‘… Olivier Templeton, whose own father won this trophy over twenty years ago in this very same car. There doesn’t look to be very much left of it…’
A chill ran down Claudia’s spine and, despite the heat of the day and the thickness of her overalls, she broke out into an ice-cold sweat.
Olivier was making his way towards the paddock when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching him. He turned to snarl. It was Claudia, her face contorted with distress.
‘Olivier!’
He surveyed her coldly. ‘Well done.’
She ignored his congratulation. ‘I’m so sorry…’
‘Really?’ His reply was heavy with irony. ‘I’m surprised. I’d have thought it was just what you wanted. Me out of the running for good. Leaves the road to glory nice and clear for you, doesn’t it?’
‘Olivier…’
But he turned and walked away, the stiffness of his back telling her not to follow.
Claudia stifled a sob. He had looked at her with such contempt, showing just how little he thought of her. Why was she such a stupid cow? Why did she feel the need to prove herself all the time; have the upper hand? Why couldn’t she embark on a relationship on equal terms, instead of playing elaborate games? She’d blown it this time. The first person in her life that she’d really wanted, and she’d played the most dangerous game of all. He could have died, and all because she’d thrown down the gauntlet, challenged him to a duel that meant he’d taken risks he shouldn’t have.
Wild Oats Page 39
