Phillipa looked at Fenella and narrowed her eyes. “She doesn’t even look sorry,” she snapped.
Paulette sighed and slid an arm around her mother. “Let’s go home,” she suggested. “We can open a bottle of wine and watch some television and forget all about everything.”
“I wish I could forget that easily,” Phillipa said. “But I can’t.”
“I’ll ring Dr. Quayle,” Paulette told her. “He can come and give you something to help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Phillipa argued.
“Where’s Paul?” Donald asked.
“He’s running late,” Paulette told him. “Otherwise I’d let him deal with my darling mother.”
“Do you want me to ring for a taxi for you?” Donald asked.
Paulette shook her head. “I drove, just in case we needed to make a quick exit.”
“We aren’t leaving,” Phillipa announced. “She should leave,” she added, sneering at Fenella.
“What on earth is going on over here?” an imperious voice cut through the air.
“Patricia, how lovely to see you,” Donald said as the woman who’d spoken joined their group.
This has to be Patricia Anderson, Fenella thought. She looked so much like her daughter that Fenella might have taken them for sisters if she didn’t know better. Patricia’s dress was fire-engine red. It was low-cut and far more daring than Fenella’s, even though the woman had to be over sixty.
“Why did I hear shouting?” Patricia asked, looking at each person in turn.
“She’s Mona Kelly’s niece,” Phillipa said in an accusatory tone.
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “That explains a lot,” she said almost to herself. She turned and smiled at Fenella. “I’m Patricia Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Fenella Woods,” she replied. “Donald tells me you’re behind the wonderful charity hosting tonight’s event.”
“Yes, indeed, it’s been my life’s work,” Patricia told her. “Mona was a very generous supporter of what we did. She always insisted on giving anonymously, of course. She never wanted to draw attention to her kindness.”
“She had an affair with my Paul,” Phillipa shrieked.
“Fenella did?” Patricia said incredulously.
“No, Mona did,” Phillipa replied.
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “I find that difficult to believe,” she said after a moment. “But I can’t see what difference it makes. Both Paul and Mona have passed now, after all.”
“It matters to me,” Phillipa said with tears in her eyes. “It matters to me a great deal.”
Paulette put her arm around her mother. “Come on, Mum, let’s go home,” she said. Before the other woman managed to object, Paulette began to lead her away.
“That was unpleasant,” Patricia said as the others watched the pair leave the room. “Deeply unpleasant.”
“Paul only passed a few months ago,” Donald said. “It seems that Phillipa is taking it quite badly.”
“Clearly,” Patricia’s tone was icy. “There’s no excuse for such behavior, though. Tonight is about the Manx Fund for Children, not Phillipa’s personal vendettas. Ms. Woods, I am sorry that you were subjected to that. I hope it won’t put you off supporting our good cause.”
Fenella swallowed hard. “No, of course not,” she muttered. She hadn’t planned on bidding on anything in the auction or making a donation, but perhaps she was going to have to do one or the other. Having quit her job to move to the island, she’d been pleased to find that she’d inherited enough to allow her stay at home and work on the book she’d always wanted to write. Her budget didn’t allow for many extra expenses, though. Sipping her champagne, she tried to work out exactly how much she could afford to spend to try to stay on Patricia Anderson’s good side.
Patricia chatted with Donald for a moment before deciding that she needed to speak to someone on the other side of the room. Fenella blew out a sigh of relief as the woman walked away.
“Are you okay?” Donald asked, pulling her close as soon as Patricia was gone.
“Not really,” Fenella admitted. “Phillipa scared me, and Patricia worries me.”
“You mustn’t worry about Phillipa. She’s obviously not herself since her husband died, but she’s eighty-five and mostly harmless. I’m sure shouting at you has completely worn her out,” he replied.
“I just hope I never see her again,” Fenella said fervently.
“And you mustn’t let Patricia bother you either,” Donald continued. “She’s only interested in one thing, and that’s raising money for her charity. She bullies everyone mercilessly until they donate, but as it’s a good cause, we don’t complain.”
“I just don’t know that I can afford to donate much,” Fenella murmured.
“You’re my guest tonight,” Donald said. “I’ll donate enough for both of us.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Fenella objected.
“Of course you can,” Donald said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, I insist on it. When you start getting invited to these things yourself, then you’ll have to start making your own donations, but tonight you are my guest.”
Fenella opened her mouth to object again, but decided against it. As she didn’t feel she could afford to make a donation, perhaps Donald was right.
He gave her a tight hug and then kissed the top of her head. “Now stop worrying,” he whispered in her ear. “Have some more champagne and relax.”
Half an hour later Patricia was nearly ready to start the auction. Donald pulled Fenella into the front row of seats near the stage. “You’ll have to let me know what you want,” he told her. “I’m sure you deserve a present for getting through tonight.”
Fenella sank into her seat next to Donald and closed her eyes. All she really wanted right then was to go home and talk to Mona. Asking her aunt whether she’d had an affair with Paul Clucas or not was going to be awkward, but it needed to be done. Fenella wasn’t sure why, but she felt she needed to know whether Phillipa’s anger had been misplaced or not.
“I’m sorry, but may I just have a minute of your time?” a timid voice asked in Fenella’s ear.
She opened her eyes and jumped as she realized that Paulette Clucas had slid into the seat on the other side of her.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman said quickly. “I took Mum home and got her to bed, but I had to come back to apologize. She really isn’t herself at the moment, and I’m terribly sorry that she shouted at you.”
“I hope you can get her some help,” Fenella said after an uncomfortable pause.
“I’m doing everything I can to help her,” Paulette assured her. “And I have Dr. Quayle on speed dial.”
“How difficult for you,” Fenella murmured.
“You’ve no idea,” Paulette retorted. “But I’d really like to explain. After everything that was said, you deserve a proper explanation. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to have tea with me tomorrow?”
“Tea?” Fenella repeated, her mind racing.
“They do a proper tea on Sunday afternoons here,” the woman replied. “It starts at two and it’s just about my favorite thing in the world. My mum started taking me out for Sunday tea when I was a little girl. It was something we did without my father or my brother. It was just for the girls.” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Whenever I have to talk to someone about something upsetting, I try to make it over tea here. It feels like home to me.”
“It sounds lovely, but there’s no need,” Fenella told her.
“But I really want you to understand,” the woman said fervently. “And I want to talk to you about Mona, as well.”
“I believe we’re ready to begin,” Patricia said from the stage. “If everyone could find seats, please?”
“I have to go,” Paulette said. “I can’t afford to bid on anything and I should get home to Mum anyway. Sunday tea? Please?”
“Sure, why not?” Fenella
replied, feeling flustered.
“Thank you so much,” the woman replied, beaming with delight. “I’ll see you then.”
She was gone, swallowed up by the crowd looking for seats before Fenella could change her mind.
To Fenella the next hour seemed to drag on forever. She was eager to get home to talk to her aunt and bored with the seemingly endless auction. Expensive jewelry, high-priced electronics, and exotic vacations came under the hammer, and the well-heeled crowd bid each item up to ridiculous prices. Donald bought a few paintings, none of which Fenella could imagine hanging on her walls.
“Let me buy you this necklace,” Donald urged as a diamond and ruby pendant came up for auction.
“I really wouldn’t wear it,” Fenella told him.
“What about this bracelet?” he asked a few minutes later as an emerald bracelet was showcased.
Fenella shook her head. “I rarely wear bracelets. They just get in the way.” And that one is gaudy and horrible, she added in her head.
The last few items were all vacations and Fenella was relieved when Donald didn’t offer to buy her any of those.
“I’d love to take you on holiday with me somewhere wonderful,” he said quietly during the bidding. “But I don’t intend to announce my intentions by buying the holiday in front of a huge audience.”
When the auction was over, Donald grinned at her. “Yet again you’ve managed to avoid letting me spoil you,” he said. “This can’t continue, though. Sooner or later you’re going to have to let me buy you something wonderful.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with you buying me things,” Fenella countered. “I can’t imagine that changing.”
Donald chuckled. “I must have a better imagination than you do,” he said. “I can imagine all manner of things.” He winked as she blushed. “I have to go and pay for all of my art,” he said, getting to his feet. “Then we can get out of here.”
Fenella stood up and wandered toward the buffet tablets. Donald had joined a long line of people clutching checkbooks, so she picked up a plate and selected a few things to nibble on while she waited.
“So you’re Mona’s niece,” a voice said from behind her.
Fenella turned around and forced herself to smile at the stranger. “I am, yes,” she said.
“I’m Anne Marie Smathers,” the woman said. “Mona and I were friends, after a fashion.” Anne Marie was grey-haired and looked at least eighty. She was wearing a very old-fashioned looking blue dress that just about matched her eyes and clutching a small handbag with one hand and the handle of a cane with the other.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Fenella Woods,” Fenella introduced herself.
“Yes, I’ve heard about you. You and Donald are together, I understand,” the woman replied.
“We came to the auction together,” Fenella replied.
“Don’t get too attached to him. He’s like his father. He won’t be interested once he’s taken you to bed.”
Fenella nearly choked on her onion tart. “Thanks for the warning,” she muttered after grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip.
The woman shrugged. “Mona would tell you the same thing if she were still around. She understood men far too well. She warned me about marrying Herbert, but I didn’t listen.”
“Did she?” Fenella asked, wondering who Herbert was.
“Oh, yes. As I said, she understood men. She knew what he was like and why he wanted to marry me, but I thought we were madly in love.” The woman sighed and then laughed. “Only the mad part was right, though. I was mad to ever marry the man.”
“I am sorry,” Fenella said, glancing over to see where Donald was in the line. There were still several men in front of him and no one seemed to be in any hurry.
“It was fun for about ten minutes,” the woman replied, waving a hand. “And then Herbert was kind enough to crash his car and eliminate himself from my life.”
Fenella felt her jaw drop for the second time that evening. “My goodness,” she gasped.
Anne Marie caught her eye and then began to laugh again. “I’ve shocked you,” she said happily. “No one expects little old ladies to say such things, but it’s true. He was a horrid man who married me for my money and then cheated on me with my closest friends. And Mona was one of my closest friends. I wasn’t at all sorry when he met his explosive end.”
And now I have yet another thing to talk to Mona about, Fenella thought. “How interesting,” she murmured, checking again on Donald’s place in the line.
“Interesting? That’s one word for it,” Anne Marie said. “That was sixty years ago, you know, and I’ve been happily on my own ever since.”
“That’s great,” Fenella said.
“I would have taken back my maiden name if I could have, but women didn’t do such things in those days,” the woman said. “Of course, I did a lot of other things that women weren’t meant to do. I really should have gone back to my maiden name.”
“You could change it now,” Fenella suggested.
“That would be too much bother at my age. I don’t really mind, not after all these years. I’ve had a great many other men in and out of my life and my bed since Herbert died and not one of them ever persuaded me to change my name again.”
Fenella was relieved to see that Donald was now writing his check. Anne Marie Smathers seemed to be taking great delight in shocking her and she was eager to get away. “I never married,” Fenella said. “That was one decision I never had to make.”
“Marriage is highly overrated. Of course, most of the men I took as lovers over the years were already married to other women, so that did limit my remarriage possibilities, but that was absolutely fine with me. I enjoyed my freedom far too much.”
Fenella nodded. “I’m enjoying my freedom as well.”
“Watch out for Donald, then,” the woman said. “He’s not the faithful type, but he does like being married. He’s had three wives already, you know. Men like that romanticize being married and are always surprised when their marriages fail.”
“Sorry that took so long,” Donald said as he joined them. “Anne Marie, you look wonderful tonight.”
“I was just warning your friend about you,” the woman replied.
“Oh, dear, I should have interrupted sooner,” Donald said with a smile.
“She’s new to the island. She doesn’t know what you’re like,” Anne Marie countered. “Just like your father, really. He always appeared to be devoted to whichever wife he was currently with, but behind her back he always had at least two or three lovers.”
Donald flushed. “I’m nothing like my father,” he said sharply. “I think it’s time to go,” he told Fenella.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Anne Marie said. “I loved your father dearly, you know, and he was always totally honest with me. Not all of my former lovers afforded me the same courtesy.”
“It was lovely to see you again,” Donald said.
“And you,” the woman replied. “If I were a few years younger, I’d be trying to win you away from Ms. Woods.”
“No doubt,” Donald said. “Shall we?” he asked Fenella.
“It was nice to meet you,” Fenella lied to the other woman.
“It was lovely to talk to you,” Anne Marie replied. “Mona was lucky to have family. I’ve no one at all. My estate will all go to charity.”
“But that won’t be happening for many years yet,” Donald said. “Good night.”
“Good night,” the woman replied. She turned and took a few steps toward the center of the room. One of the waiters stopped and spoke to her, eventually offering his arm and then leading her toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here,” Donald whispered to Fenella. “I’m tired of all of these people.”
Fenella didn’t speak until they were in the car, heading for Douglas. “I thought you enjoyed these sorts of evenings,” she said.
“I usually do,” Donald replied. “But tonight wasn’t
especially enjoyable.”
“Why not?”
“You were shouted at by one elderly woman and then told goodness knows what by another,” Donald replied. “I wasn’t expecting either of those things to happen, not at a charity auction.”
“It was a rather strange evening,” Fenella admitted.
“Phillipa and Anne Marie have both been friends with Patricia forever,” Donald told her. “Your Aunt Mona was part of their social circle, along with many of the other women who were married to the island’s wealthiest men. I think Patricia keeps inviting them out of a sense of obligation. It isn’t like any of them can afford to make the sort of large donation that Patricia expects from the rest of us.”
“Phillipa seemed to be, well, mentally unstable.”
“She may be. Her husband, Paul, passed away fairly recently. I don’t think she’s taken it well. I feel sorry for Paulette.”
“I’m meeting her for tea tomorrow,” Fenella said. “She wants to apologize for her mother’s behavior.”
“She would. She’s that sort of person. Her brother, Paul, Junior, ought to be doing more, really. I’ll tell him that the next time I see him.”
“I’m not sure I want to know about Anne Marie Smathers,” Fenella said.
Donald laughed. “She’s unconventional, but then so was Mona. The two were very close friends in their youth; at least, that’s what I’ve been told. At some point they stopped speaking to one another, although I’ve never heard the same story twice as to why.”
“Anne Marie suggested that Mona slept with her husband,” Fenella said.
“With Herbert? I would have credited Mona with better taste,” Donald replied. “But it’s possible, I suppose. I know for a fact that after Herbert’s death Anne Marie began chasing after every man that Mona looked at twice. Their rivalry was the talk of the island when I was a young man.”
“Really? I can’t imagine.”
“It was a different time. Women were meant to be wives and mothers, and both Anne Marie and Mona took a different path. Anne Marie was widowed very young, and of course Mona never married. I will say that Anne Marie’s reputation was far wilder than Mona’s. She had a number of affairs and never did anything to hide that fact. Mona was considerably more discreet, even mysterious, which only added to her appeal.”
Encounters and Enemies Page 3
