‘Greta’s gone to rest,’ Jason told them. ‘The twins were trying to kick their way out.’ Shona leant against the Aga, which was on all seasons, while Maggie filled the kettle, putting it on the hotplate. ‘And Nick went for a walk a while ago.’
‘Why don’t you show Grandma your new dolls in the playroom?’ Claire suggested to Amy, who was listening to everything. She didn’t want her to worry about her granddad. Shona agreed and, armed with a mug of tea, she took the little girl’s hand and led her out.
‘What about tonight?’ Claire asked, pulling her hair back off her face. ‘Mum’s hardly going to feel like having us all up at the farm for supper now, is she?’
‘We’ll just get a takeaway. No need to make a fuss now all this has happened,’ Maggie said.
‘Agreed,’ Jason echoed, feeling sorry for his sister. ‘It’s not been the best start to the reunion, has it?’ There was a commotion at the back door as Russ scratched at the wood and barked, finally lumbering into the kitchen. The dog thumped his tail against the wall, not knowing who to greet first.
‘Russ, settle down,’ Callum called out, hanging up the lead. ‘How’s Patrick?’ He gave Claire a quick hug, listening to the update as she told him what had happened. But she trailed off as Nick also arrived back carrying several bags of shopping. Russ was wagging his tail even more furiously, sniffing at the contents.
‘Go on, outside,’ Claire said, pulling gently on the dog’s collar. Once banished, she took the bags from Nick, placing them on the worktop. ‘You bought groceries?’
‘What a star,’ Maggie said loudly, stepping between them to help unpack. ‘We were just discussing dinner.’
‘I hope I did the right thing,’ Nick said. ‘I was out for a walk and passed the village shop. They sell everything these days and there’s a new butcher’s on the corner by the pub. Besides, I didn’t think Shona would feel like mass catering.’
‘You did absolutely the right thing,’ Claire said. ‘Thank you.’ Jason couldn’t help noticing his sister’s light touch on Nick’s arm, couldn’t help noticing Callum watching.
* * *
Jason opened the door to the guest room quietly. ‘Hey,’ he said, seeing Greta was awake. Claire had decorated the Old Stables beautifully, with their room painted in muted blues and greys. The antique sleigh bed used to be in one of the farmhouse bedrooms, he recalled, and was made up with a vintage bedspread embroidered with exotic birds. He dipped his head as he went through the low-beamed doorway. ‘Did you manage to sleep?’ He’d left the others downstairs discussing Patrick, the logistics of getting the teenagers to Newquay later that evening, and what they would all do tomorrow.
‘A little bit.’ Greta smiled, hoisting herself up in bed. ‘They’ve been playing games in there.’ She spread her palms over her tummy. ‘But I feel fine.’ She reached her arms out to Jason, who didn’t need any encouragement to sprawl on the bed. He updated her on Patrick.
‘Poor man,’ Greta replied. ‘I really like him, you know.’ She hesitated, not wanting to seem disloyal. ‘But I can see why Shona wants to sell the farm.’
‘At least she doesn’t have to worry about selling this place since Dad gave it to Claire and Callum.’ Jason hadn’t meant to sound quite so bitter, even though he was.
Greta raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, I see. Well, they’re very lucky. It’s a beautiful home.’ She stroked Jason’s head as he rested it on her shoulder, knowing what he was thinking. ‘But we’re better off in London, love. I can’t leave my job. We need it. Besides, there’d be no acting work for you here.’
Another blow. Not only did he not get any sort of property handout from his father, but as Greta knew full well, he struggled to get work.
‘The old cottage on the farm would have been a good second prize though, right?’ He hauled himself up. ‘As a holiday place, perhaps? Somewhere for us and the twins to enjoy?’ He would never hold a grudge against his sister for being given the Old Stables – it was her and Callum’s money and hard work that had renovated the virtually ruined property, after all. But he didn’t understand how or why his father would do something like that for Claire and not him. Especially after everything that had happened.
‘You’ve always said that Patrick believes in hard graft.’
‘I was ill, and he knew it. And as good as homeless at the time too. He turned his back on me.’ Jason flopped back down on the bed again.
‘That’s the past. It’s time to let it go.’ Greta pulled him close. ‘And we’re doing just fine, Jase. We’ll have our own family very soon, we have a decent flat, I’m earning enough to—’
‘Don’t you get it?’ Jason hated how bitter he sounded. ‘All that is down to you. What have I contributed?’ He didn’t want to take this out on Greta. She didn’t deserve it. He swung his legs off the bed, cupping his chin in his hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry.’ She stroked his shoulders, giving him one of those reassuring looks only her eyes could convey. ‘Nick’s going to cook for us all tonight up at the farm,’ he continued, straightening up. ‘Do you feel up to it?’
‘Just try and stop me,’ she replied, heaving herself off the bed and pressing a kiss on his mouth. She was a good woman. And he was a lucky man.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Claire boxed up the groceries that Nick had bought while he raided her store cupboards for the extra ingredients he’d need. The little glass jars of spices he picked out rattled as he carried the box out to her car. Even though it was only a couple of hundred yards away, it was easier to drive everything up to the farmhouse.
‘I think that’s everything,’ Nick said, as he put the food on the back seat. Claire leant in the opposite door, looking at him, each of them still for a moment. She was about to reply, but Callum yelled out asking if everyone was ready for him to lock up the house.
‘That colour really suits you,’ Nick said.
She closed her eyes briefly, half leaning across the back seat, touching the fabric of her new dress. ‘Thanks,’ she said softly. When she pulled out of the car, an arm clamped tightly around her waist.
‘Ace dress, darling.’ Callum gave her a tap on the bottom. ‘Is it new? And your car’s filthy,’ he said, pointing to the dirty tailgate as he walked off. Claire brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide as she saw it.
It’s nothing… she tried to convince herself, staring at the small symbol scrawled in the grime above the number plate. But her heart still skipped in her chest as she tried to gather herself. It was most likely bored kids scribbling on random cars when she was last parked in town. She was being stupid, seeing things that weren’t there. She got into the car and started the engine. Someone opened the passenger door.
‘Are you sad, Mummy?’ Amy climbed in the front, not bothering with her car seat for the short drive down the track. She’d smeared some play lipstick across her mouth.
‘No, darling, I’m not sad.’ Claire smiled, marvelling how the sight of her daughter calmed her nerves. But before she drove off, she couldn’t help inspecting each of Amy’s fingers for dirt.
* * *
Trevellin Farm’s kitchen was the perfect gathering place for everyone. At nearly forty feet long, with a massive inglenook fireplace and comfy chairs at one end, a pine table capable of seating at least sixteen running up the middle and an Aga the size of a family car, Nick was quite at home preparing a meal in the place he’d spent many happy summers as a child.
He’d already got Amy setting out the cutlery, mats and glasses, which he thought would keep her amused for at least half an hour, the way she was perfecting her folded napkins. Plus, every time she counted how many people there were to set places for, someone either came into the room or went out again, confusing her completely. Claire stepped in to help and, for a few moments, Nick watched her too. She was leaning over the table, the loose cowl of her dress falling away at her neck, exposing an area of paler skin. He turned back to the food.
‘Marcus, mate. You have to take the brown stuff
off the onions before you chop them.’ Nick ruffled the lad’s hair, laughing as he ducked away.
‘What can I do to help?’ Callum said, leaning on the other side of the worktop.
Nick wasn’t sure if the offer was genuine – not that there weren’t plenty of jobs to do. ‘How about you top and tail these green beans?’ He handed over several large paper bags. ‘Picked fresh today.’
Callum hesitated, his expression unchanging as the two men stared at each other for longer than was comfortable. Then he reached for a knife, drawing the largest one slowly from the block. ‘No problem,’ he said.
Claire pulled up a stool and sat beside them. She watched as Nick chopped the garlic with frightening speed. ‘Cal doesn’t usually cook, do you, darling?’ she said, touching his arm. ‘He prefers the eating part.’
‘Indeed,’ he replied, handing her the knife. ‘Why don’t you take over while I go down to the cellar to see what Patrick has in stock?’
When he’d gone, Nick let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He was about to say something to Claire, but she lunged for the landline phone as it rang beside her. ‘That’s great news. Thanks so much for calling,’ she said, hanging up a moment later. ‘That was the hospital. Dad’s doing fine. He’s eaten a good meal and was even asking for a bottle of wine.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Shona said, rolling her eyes and looking relieved.
‘Patrick’s always been a fighter,’ Nick said, as he fried off the lamb in a rainbow of spices. Within seconds, the kitchen was filled with an exotic smell. ‘Remember when he got stuck out at sea?’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Shona said, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
‘What happened?’ Amy asked. She’d climbed up on a stool and was cupping her chin in her hands. ‘Was it an adventure?’
‘Granddad went out fishing,’ Claire said. ‘Everyone was here at the farm, just like now, only everyone was little like you. He promised we could cook fresh fish on a fire on the beach. It was so exciting.’
‘That sounds fun.’ Amy’s eyes were wide. ‘And I’m not little.’
‘Granddad went out in the dinghy but didn’t come back for ages,’ Shona said. ‘Do you remember the boat you helped him paint, Nick? It always leaked. Whatever he did, water would seep into the hull. He set out after lunch promising to come back with two dozen mackerel. When teatime came and went, we began to worry.’
Amy gasped as if it was the most exciting story she’d ever heard. ‘Why didn’t you phone him?’
‘Because there weren’t any mobile phones in those days,’ Claire said, giving her a squeeze. Nick watched them together, ignoring the pain in his heart. There was so much of Claire in the child, but also an undeniable look of Lenni with her little snub nose and dimpled chin.
‘We had to call the coastguard,’ Shona said, making Amy gasp. ‘They sent out a search party.’
‘It was Aunty Lenni who eventually spotted him though, Amy,’ Claire continued. ‘She’d climbed up onto the rocks and saw his flashlight giving out a Morse code SOS. Granddad had taught it to her. She saved his life.’
‘That’s a big adventure,’ Amy said, guzzling down a glass of juice. ‘But if Aunty Lenni saved Granddad, why did God let her die?’ She kicked her feet against the stool rung.
‘Like, duh, because he doesn’t exist?’ Rain sauntered into the kitchen just in time to hear what Amy said. She flicked back her hair. ‘I can’t believe they still teach little kids that stuff in school.’
‘Mrs Fry says that God could be a woman.’ Amy’s forehead crinkled with a frown.
‘Don’t tell me, Mrs Fry’s a vegan lesbian too, right?’ Rain’s reply went over Amy’s head as Maggie rang out a very stern warning. ‘But what do you actually think, Amy?’ Rain leant forward on the worktop. ‘What do you think God is?’
‘I think God is mean to take Aunty Lenni away. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think he should put her back because she saved Granddad.’
‘Maybe God showed Aunty Lenni where Granddad was,’ Shona suggested, trying to restore any faith her granddaughter may have. ‘The lifeboat was able to rescue him because of her. His motor had broken down and he’d lost an oar.’
Amy was chewing on her lip and looking very perplexed. ‘But Nana, I’ve never seen God and lots of people say he doesn’t exist.’ Amy bit on her fingernails, deep in thought. ‘And… and… I’ve never seen Aunty Lenni so maybe she wasn’t real either?’
‘Oh, Amy,’ Claire said, annoyed at Rain for starting this. ‘Of course Aunty Lenni was real.’
‘You have to admit,’ Rain said, helping herself to a raw bean. ‘She’s kind of got a point.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Callum was relieved to get out of the kitchen. It was no place for him. And he wasn’t keen on being part of the reunion either. He was counting down the days until they all went.
‘Hello, Mr Rodway. What’s down here?’
Callum stopped as he was going back up the stone cellar staircase, a bottle of Rioja in each hand. The girl was a couple of steps above him, peering down.
‘It looks spooky.’
‘It’s the cellar, Rain. Patrick’s cellar.’ He emphasised that it belonged to his father-in-law in the hope it might give her a hint to get lost.
‘Why are you down here, then?’ She folded her arms across her chest, blocking his way up as much as he was barricading hers down. Callum felt his heart rate rise. The girl was totally maddening, and he hoped she wasn’t giving Marcus a hard time. She was the type who’d be all over an unsuspecting boy like him.
‘I’m fetching wine for the meal.’
‘But Nick brought some wine back from the shop.’
‘Well, I wanted this wine, OK?’
‘But you said it was Patrick’s. Does he know?’
‘Patrick won’t mind.’ Callum forced out a sigh and took a step up. With Rain on the one immediately above, their faces were level.
‘But he’s in hospital. How do you know he won’t mind?’
‘Rain, you’re a sweet girl.’ Callum swallowed, keeping down his annoyance. ‘However, I don’t feel I have to explain myself to you. Please, let me past.’ He made to step around her, but she spread her arms and legs wide. ‘Rain… don’t do—’
‘Will you show me what’s down there? I want to see.’ She tilted her head to one side so that glossy waves of hair fell across her cheek. The tank top she was wearing hardly covered anything and Callum said a silent prayer for his son. ‘Pretty please?’
He sighed again. ‘If I do, will you let me go back upstairs?’ He was shocked to find himself grinning, placing the bottles on the steps beside Rain’s feet. Her toenails were perfectly painted pink, peeking from the crosshatch of her silver sandals. He turned his head sideways, staring at her ankle.
‘Do you like it?’ Rain giggled, tilting her foot so he could see better.
Callum stared at the tattoo, dreading his son coming home from a drunken night out with something inked across his chest. He swallowed, fighting the urge to touch it, just to see what her smooth young skin felt like. He cursed his stupidity.
‘You don’t like it, do you?’ Rain said.
‘No, no, it’s not that.’ Callum straightened up, clearing his throat. He wondered if Claire had spotted it yet. ‘So, if I show you the cellar, you’ll come back upstairs with me?’
‘Of course, Mr Rodway,’ she said with a pout.
The cellar was divided into three chambers, each with a vaulted roof. It smelt musty though not damp, as if the scent of a thousand wines had permeated the bricks.
‘It’s cool down here.’ Rain trailed her fingers across the dusty racks of wine. Patrick was an avid collector.
‘It’s meant to be cool,’ Callum said. ‘Cellars remain at the same temperature winter or summer.’
‘I mean cool, like all this unknown house under here. It’d be great for Halloween parties.’ She peeked through into the next chamber. ‘How far back does
it go? Is there a light? I want to see.’
‘It’s just more of the same.’ Callum knew exactly where the light switch was but couldn’t be bothered waiting while Rain checked out the alcohol. ‘And just so you know, it’s off limits down here.’ He suddenly felt very old. She was obviously planning on sneaking back later to steal a bottle or two.
‘I want to see,’ Rain said, walking off into the next chamber until the darkness swallowed her up. ‘How far does it go back?’ Her voice sounded dull and far away. Callum knew there was yet another chamber leading off that.
‘Come on, let’s get back up.’ He waited. There was no reply. ‘Rain, I’m not leaving you down here alone.’ Bloody kids. He swore under his breath. ‘Come now, please, Rain or I’ll have to lock you in.’
Nothing. No footsteps or shuffling on the dusty bricks, no rattle as she traced a finger over the racks of bottles. No breathing or any other sound. It was as if she’d vanished.
‘Rain, where the hell are you?’ He went into the first pitch-black chamber and felt for the light switch. When he flicked it on, there was no sign of her. It was just the cellar as normal with Patrick’s notebooks and tasting kit set out on a barrel top. He went to the archway of the final chamber. ‘Rain, stop messing about now. Where are you?’ Again, he felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing. The bulb must have blown.
Callum edged through into the furthest chamber, taking tentative steps. It was as black as night.
‘Gotcha!’ Arms suddenly clamped around his shoulders while Rain’s giggle rang in his ears.
‘Shit! You stupid girl! You nearly gave me a heart attack.’ Callum tried to shake her off, but she was clinging on to him, laughing hysterically.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.’
He felt her soft hair beneath his chin as she rested her head on his chest. He got a waft of her scent – and not just perfume, his fired-up senses told him.
The Reunion: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist Page 11
