I’d never been so popular.
‘Hello, Harry.’ It was Uncle George. ‘Hope life’s fine. Your Aunt Rachel’s making a big thing about our wedding anniversary – next Thursday. Don’t say I said so, but I suppose she’s trying to make up for all the lost and forgotten ones we’ve had. Still, it is a biggish one – thirty years. Amazing how we’ve managed to achieve that, don’t you think?’
I found myself nodding in total agreement. It certainly was amazing. It said a lot for the endurance of the human spirit – on both their parts – when placed under extreme emotional pressure. However, it proved it was never too late to build a relationship back up.
Aunt Rachel, believing Uncle George to have had an affair, had spent the last twenty-odd years in bitter resentment and it had been marital hell. Now, it was sorted between them, the coin had flipped and their marriage was full of bliss. George deserved every happy moment. Part of their reconciliation had sprung from George being taken into hospital in a hurry. He very nearly didn’t come out again. Aunt Rachel had faced his imminent death and decided what mattered in her life – George mattered!
‘So,’ his message continued, ‘what I’m saying is, Harry, your Aunt Rachel’s arranging a big do and we want you to come. Bring Annabel. Rachel would love to see her. We still think of her as family. What do you say? It will be on Thursday, next week, at seven. Speak to you soon, I hope.’
I replaced the telephone. Then I sat with my head in my hands and thought about it for several minutes.
Rachel and George were family, George my late father’s only brother. Rachel had never had babies – she couldn’t, she was barren. At the news of Annabel’s pregnancy, she had openly rejoiced. No matter that I wasn’t the baby’s father; just the fact that Annabel was going to be a mother was enough for Rachel. I’d dearly love to take Annabel. She’d grieved for the state of their marriage and would now be delighted. But I wasn’t going to. A line needed drawing between us before I could go forward. Tonight, if I’d read Fleur’s signals correctly, that line was going to be drawn.
I reached for the phone and dialled Uncle George’s number. We hadn’t spoken in ages – not since the celebration for Silvie, I guess.
‘Uncle George, nice to hear from you.’
‘Harry, glad you got my message.’
‘Congratulations on the anniversary.’
‘I know what you’re thinking: against the odds, I’ll bet.’
I chuckled. ‘Wasn’t going to add that, but yes.’
‘And I’d have to agree with you, lad. But we hung in there and we want you at the party to share it.’
‘Don’t worry, Uncle George, I’ll be there. I know what it means to you, and to Aunt Rachel.’
‘And Annabel? Will you bring her? Rachel loves the girl.’
I hesitated. ‘I think not.’
‘Oh, Harry …’
I heard the disappointment in his voice.
‘I’m sorry, but Aunt Rachel is reading too much into Annabel’s condition. It’s almost as though she’s convinced I’m the father. Like, she’s not acknowledging the baby is Sir Jeffrey’s.’
‘Oh, Harry,’ he said again, ‘I’m sure she doesn’t.’
I smiled wryly to myself. The improvement in his marriage had ensured an even deeper degree of loyalty.
‘Please, Harry, do bring Annabel.’
‘I can’t, I’m really sorry, but no. I can’t. But give Aunt Rachel my congratulations and tell her I’ll come to her party.’
‘OK.’ His tone held disapproving resignation. ‘We’ll see you there, then.’ He disconnected.
I walked slowly upstairs and took out the bottle of aftershave from the bathroom cabinet – it was the only one I had. Tomorrow, I’d buy a different brand, one that smelled different, but for now … Let the evening begin. I unscrewed the top and slapped some on.
Fleur opened the door. ‘Heard your car. Come on in, we’re all in the lounge.’
‘Harry,’ Mike heaved himself up from the settee, ‘glad you’ve made it.’
Maria walked across and kissed my cheek. ‘Hope you like fish. I’m cooking Dover sole.’
‘Can’t wait.’ I grinned.
Fleur pushed a glass into my hand. ‘We’ve two other guests coming.’
‘Oh?’
‘I invited Pen and Paul Wentworth,’ Mike explained. ‘It seemed the right thing to do, seeing as they’re owners now, albeit they’re with Clive Unwin.’
Mike was not only a racehorse trainer but a shrewd businessman, too. It paid to remain cordial with potential clients.
‘They’ve just the one horse, though. Are they anticipating buying any more?’
‘Who knows?’ Mike spread his hands. ‘They got shunted into ownership because of family troubles.’
I gaped at him. ‘How come you know that? I only found out this afternoon – from his cousin, Benson McCavity.’
‘From Pen. She told me the whole sorry story.’ Mike looked sheepish. ‘Well, she was in a bit of a state when I brought her back indoors this morning. She needed a bit of consoling. And a shoulder so she could pour it all out.’
‘Damsels in distress always find you, Mike.’
‘They do seem to, don’t they?’
‘Always have,’ Maria said. ‘It’s your “lived-in” face. It attracts them.’
‘Steady on, Mum. Uncle Mike’s what’s known as ruggedly good-looking,’ Fleur put in.
‘So,’ Maria laughed, ‘how would you describe Harry?’
‘Surprised you’re asking.’ Fleur gave me a sly, sexy smile. ‘Harry, well … Harry’s just drop dead. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Do you two mind? I am standing here.’
‘Most certainly would agree,’ Maria replied cheerfully. ‘Pity I’m too old for him.’
‘But I’m not.’ Fleur gave an outrageous lewd wink.
‘Come on, you two, cut it out. You’re embarrassing the man. Away to the kitchen and rattle the pans, or something.’ Giggling like schoolgirls, they took themselves off.
‘Phew,’ Mike said and wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, ‘thank goodness I’m related; at least I’m safe.’
‘What about me?’ I protested.
‘Oh, you, well … I’d have to say you’ve pulled, mate. Better give in. Not worth struggling.’
A knock at the kitchen door and voices raised in greeting marked the arrival of the last two guests. Moments later Maria showed in Pen and Paul Wentworth.
‘Lovely of you to invite us, Mike.’ Pen reached up and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m so glad we called this morning.’
‘So glad we caught you in this time,’ Paul said.
‘Yes, sorry about that. As you know, Harry and I were attending this wedding at North Shore. A beautiful place … just dreadful that the murder occurred.’
‘Please, Mike’ – Pen clutched his arm – ‘let’s not talk about it.’
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘no, let’s not. Now, what would you like to drink?’ They wandered over to the drinks cabinet and left Paul and me to chat.
‘Do you do any consultancy or advisory work, Harry?’
‘As in?’
‘Buying racehorses.’
‘Ah.’
‘I’m looking to buy another. You know Pen and I bought Lytham … well, we’d like a horse with Mike. Lytham is with Unwin, which is fine. I get on well with him. I’m down his yard quite a lot. But Pen says she’d like a filly in training here with Mike.’
‘I’d be happy to help you. The Newmarket sales will be held later this month. Probably pick up a yearling there.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘OK, everyone,’ Maria said, coming in, ‘dinner’s ready. If you’d like to go through to the dining room …’
‘Of course. I’m looking forward to your cooking.’ Paul followed her through the door.
I turned to see if Mike was coming. He was standing very close to Pen, smiling down into her uplifted face. I noticed with staggered disbelief
his fingers were caressing her hand where she held the wine glass. And the look on his face needed no interpreting.
After all these years on his own following Monica’s death, it looked surprisingly like he was falling for a married woman.
TWENTY-TWO
I slipped away to the dining room without either of them noticing. I took my allotted place at the dining table with my thoughts whirling. Fleur was seated beside me, with Paul next to her. Maria, it seemed, was head chef and waitress.
She served me a grilled Dover sole that looked and smelled great. It was unfortunate I’d lost my appetite. She placed vegetable tureens on the table, one filled with garden peas and asparagus tips, and one with baby new potatoes tossed in butter and chives. There was a lemon butter sauce on offer, plus portions of freshly cut lemon arranged on a cut-glass serving dish. Obviously, it had taken time and skill. It would be extremely rude of me not to at least attempt to make an effort.
Paul was helping himself lavishly, exchanging light-hearted banter with Maria.
‘Mike, Pen, what are you doing? Dinner’s waiting,’ called Maria.
My guts twisted as I thought of Mike and Pen in the other room starting something that potentially was going to hurt a lot of people.
‘Come on, Harry,’ Fleur said and nudged my elbow, ‘tuck in.’
Obediently, I helped myself from the tureen containing the asparagus and squeezed lemon over my fish.
‘You’ve not said if you like my dress.’ Fleur pouted her lips.
I realized she was right. What with the embarrassment of the women’s double act when I arrived, followed by the revelation of seeing Mike moving in on Pen, I’d not really noticed. Odd really, when I’d been interested earlier. It crossed my mind that if Annabel had been here, I would have noticed her dress immediately. I forced the thought away and, taking a forkful of the sole to give myself a few seconds’ grace, took stock. She was wearing a floaty dress, pale green, with a neckline that, sitting next to her, I could see, when she bent towards me, not so much plunged as threw itself off a cliff. I swallowed the mouthful and cleared my throat.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘You like it?’
‘Yes, yes, I do.’
‘That’s OK, then.’ She smiled happily. ‘I seem to spend my life wearing smelly old jodhpurs. It’s really nice to put a dress on.’
‘And perfume …’ I murmured, aware now of the seductive, sweet scent she was wearing.
Mike and Pen came in. To deflect attention from them, I congratulated Maria on her skill.
‘This fish is first class. You’re a pretty good cook, Maria.’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled. ‘Actually, I enjoy cooking.’
‘I’ve certainly eaten better since she’s been here.’ Mike showed Pen to her seat and sat down opposite me.
‘Men need looking after,’ Pen said.
‘You do a good job looking after me. I’m very lucky,’ Paul managed to say whilst busily chomping his way through a mound of baby potatoes.
I didn’t look at them. I was having trouble getting the food down and it wasn’t because of a fish bone. I deliberately focused my attention on Fleur.
‘Good job you packed a dress. You’re looking extremely feminine.’
For an upfront, flirty woman, who must have heard the compliment before, she seemed really pleased.
‘I’ve packed two or three, actually.’
‘We’ll have to make sure they all have outings.’
‘Hmmmm … that would be nice.’
‘My Uncle George is having a party next Thursday. Well, I think it’s really my Aunt Rachel’s idea.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ put in Maria.
‘What’s the occasion, Harry?’ Pen leaned across to help herself from the tureen.
‘Thirtieth wedding anniversary.’
‘Wow, that is an achievement.’
I found myself saying, acidly, ‘It hasn’t come easily. They’ve had to stick together through a hell of a lot of woe – on both sides.’
Pen blinked. ‘That doesn’t sound much like a marriage in harmony.’
‘No.’
There was a tense little silence.
I saw Mike frowning. Looking directly at him, I raised one eyebrow. Far from looking abashed, he gave a scowl. Well, whatever. My respect for him had taken a severe knock. I’d always thought of him as a straight player, a man you could trust.
Turning to Fleur, I said, ‘Would you like to come to the party with me? Starts at seven.’
She gave me a beautiful smile. ‘I’ll wear dress number two, OK?’
‘Very much OK. Especially if it’s as lovely as number one. You’ll have Uncle George’s eyes out on stalks.
‘You’re sure your relations won’t mind? I mean, they don’t know me.’
I took a last mouthful of the delicious fish and replaced the knife and fork. ‘They’ll be delighted.’
And I could only hope. They would no doubt be harbouring a dream Annabel would turn up. How they’d react to my bringing another woman, I had no idea.
‘If we’ve all finished … I’ll bring in the pudding.’ Maria collected the plates and disappeared to the kitchen.
‘Harry’s agreed to help us find another racehorse, Pen.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘He suggests we go to the horse sales at Newmarket.’
‘As a market place, it will give you plenty of choice,’ I said.
‘I’m really interested in buying a filly, one that Mike can train for me, as a flat racer. You know, an interest in the summer months as opposed to Lytham jump racing in the wintertime?’
I nodded. ‘Makes sense.’ And – the unpleasant thought occurred to me – it would also give her a legitimate reason to come and see Mike.
‘I could ride her for you, if I’m still here,’ Fleur said.
‘Yes,’ Pen nodded, ‘I’m sure you could.’
‘Harry will be riding for us again, that’s for sure,’ Paul said.
‘You couldn’t do better.’ Mike nodded.
Maria reappeared, bearing a tray. ‘It’s Milanese soufflé, nice and light. Guaranteed not to put pounds on.’
‘Not too naughty, but still very nice.’ Pen accepted her dish.
‘Harry? You going to indulge?’
‘Thanks, Maria, yes, why not? Your food is a privilege to eat.’
‘Charmer,’ she laughed, and handed out the rest of the dishes.
For a few minutes, conversation stopped as we sampled Maria’s beautiful soufflé. It was not quite as low in calories as she’d made out, but what the hell. However, I discreetly removed the pistachio nut decoration. As far as I was concerned, tonight was a case of enjoying the good things as they happened, whilst trying not to think about what unpleasantness might be developing later. Whatever I personally thought of Mike’s conduct, it wasn’t going to alter anything.
I decided to direct my attentions to Fleur. By her acceptance of my invitation to Uncle George’s party, it was clear she wanted my company. I was hoping there would be a chance to be alone with her after dinner. Where that would lead was an unknown, but all her signals were set to green.
It was a long time since I’d dated a woman. But it was nearly three years now since Annabel had chucked in the towel on our marriage. I would be all sorts of an idiot if I remained celibate any longer. Life was here, in the now, as it happened. And it wasn’t fulfilled living if I remained on my own. There were no obstacles between Fleur and me. She was interested in me and she was a single woman. It was up to me to make the next move.
In the present situation, there was little chance of being alone tonight, but I figured there was a damn good chance if I volunteered to do the last round of the stables for the night. Mike would be only too pleased, I was sure. If Fleur offered to accompany me, we were home and hosed. If she didn’t, well, I could invite her to – see what she said. It would be the only possible way for us to be together. As an intelligent woman, she would know that.
And then, if she agreed … I’d kick on.
‘I’m afraid I need to change my clothes, Harry.’ Fleur swished her hands down the floaty dress. ‘Hardly the thing for stables.’
‘Nor for the change in temperature out there.’
‘Oh, I’m quite sure you can keep me warm.’
‘Maybe,’ I grinned, ‘but I do think you should wear something not quite so thin and diaphanous.’
‘You’d rather I wear Uncle Mike’s long johns and top coat?’ She wrinkled her nose at me then disappeared upstairs, leaving me in the kitchen. I’d not had to ask if she would accompany me. All it had taken was my offer to Mike to do the last check of the stables for the night. Almost before he’d agreed, Fleur had jumped in and said she would come with me. Mike had smirked and said what a good idea. Under normal circumstances, we would probably have exchanged a discreet wink between us, but tonight I wasn’t playing. Fleur was his niece and as such I understood his protectiveness, but she was a grown woman. Very much her own woman from what I’d seen. She needed nobody’s approval for her actions.
Light footsteps came running downstairs. Fleur appeared in the hall.
‘OK, Harry, I’m ready. Let’s go.’
We both took down coats from the pegs and I opened the door. Immediately, the cold air hit us, dispelling the warmth from Mike’s central heating.
‘Brrr … I see what you mean.’ Fleur snuggled deeper into her jacket. ‘Good job I swapped my dress.’
‘I preferred you in the dress, but I agree. The temperature drops significantly at night now.’
I pulled the door closed behind us and she came in close to my side, putting her hand into my pocket for warmth. I put an arm around her shoulders and we went off down the yard.
It was a routine check we were doing, making sure all the horses were rugged up and had adequate water. Checking none had got cast. With more than forty horses, it took us quite a while, and as we turned from the last stable, satisfied all was well, Fleur heaved a deep sigh.
‘Was that boredom, tiredness or contentment?’
She leaned in on me. ‘Oh, definitely contentment, Harry. It’s a job I love, the last round of the day. There’s such a feeling of placid peacefulness about the horses. They’re getting ready to sleep and all is well.’
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