by Jenny Kane
‘Indeed it has, my dear. What I have to say now is, I’m afraid, going to be another bitter pill to swallow. I have taken the liberty of arranging tea to be served as soon as we’re done to take the taste away a little. Are you ready?’
Cassandra nodded, clasping her hands together in her lap. She couldn’t stop the feeling that it was going to take a lot more than a cup of tea to make this situation taste better.
‘Whether it was Mr Smythe or Mrs Smythe, or possibly them both together, who acted against you, The Pinkerton Agency has gone. The rumours of a sale were false. You have been dismantled, not sold on.’
‘But how?’
‘I’ll try and explain that in a minute. There is a glimmer of hope, albeit rather fog-bound. This illegal dissolving of the company is far better than a third party being involved because it means we can try and claw back the money you are entitled to, or take steps to reboot the agency. At this stage I am not sure which would be more cost effective. That decision has to be yours. You may not want to restart it now your personal situation is a little different.’
Cassandra felt her throat go dry. No words would form as she listened. Her brain was too busy trying to process what she was being told.
‘Finally we are left with the question of the terrace on Miners Row.’ Mr Clearer pulled a document from the pile on his desk. ‘That I think we can say is yours. The payment was cash, and when Mr Smythe dealt with the estate agent in St Just, he operated under your name.’
Cassandra frowned. ‘Are you telling me that Justin has destroyed my business, but at the same time bought me a house in Sennen?’
‘That is very much what it looks like.’
‘But that’s crazy. Why would he do that?’
Smiling his thanks as his secretary arrived with the teapot and two cups, Mr Clearer said, ‘My only guess at this time is that he feels guilty. He doesn’t want you broke, Cassandra, but he also wants you as far away from London as possible. Let’s face it, although the world runs from the Internet these days, it’s much harder to save a business when you aren’t there in person to make a lot of noise.’
‘Guilty? After doing all that?’
Mr Clearer dunked a Rich Tea biscuit into his china cup. ‘I’ve been a lawyer my whole working life, Cassandra, and the illogical things men and women do out of guilt never cease to astound me.’
Dan stood in the middle of Stan’s living room and surveyed the cardboard boxes which had been transposed from one flat lounge to the other. Sweat ran down his back as he took the offered glass of iced water, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Stan mate?’
The older man laughed. ‘It is a bit like a postal depot in here, isn’t it?’
‘To put it mildly.’ Dan laughed in return. There was something about this place. The hours were unconventional, there was often illness and sometimes death to deal with, but the optimism of Chalk Towers’ residents was unlike anything Dan had come across before. Of all the things he’d done as a care worker, he’d never yet had to help arrange a pensioners’ wedding, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be helping two residents to shack up together.
‘Is Max coming over later to help me move the furniture?’
‘About half six apparently.’ Stan winked mischievously. ‘Hoping he’ll bring Abi and her pretty new neighbour, are you?’
‘Stan Abbey, I have no idea what you are talking about. Now, where do you want Dora’s rock collection?’
‘She has a rock collection?’
Chapter Fifteen
Cassandra laid out the large spreadsheet Donald Clearer had allowed her to print while she was at his office on the patio table.
The house in Sennen, once it was done up, would be worth almost as much as her place in London. It really was as if Justin had been trying to compensate her for being such a git.
Resting her elbows on the table in an uncharacteristically slovenly fashion, she took a collection of pens and began to mark in the names of the employees she had spoken to, their new or previous employers, and how receptive they had been to the thought of continuing to work for her should she reboot the business.
It had only taken a couple of minutes thought before she knew she didn’t want to save the business in the form it had been. Any and all connections to Justin had to be terminated.
Cassandra sighed into her gin and tonic as her heart contracted. She had loved him. Did love him. Perhaps I’m wrong? Perhaps he’ll still come. . .
After shaking her head sharply, she took a sip of the ice-cold liquid and was glad she’d purchased a stock of groceries on her way back from Penzance. The fact she was staying here for the foreseeable future had spurred her on to buy some home comforts.
‘So,’ she ran a red fingernail down the first column of the spreadsheet, ‘of the twenty-five tutors I had on my books who weren’t up for contract renewal in January, I have seven who haven’t decided to stay in direct private employment or taken the opportunity to change direction.’
She ran her other hand absentmindedly across the wooden tabletop. ‘This could do with sanding down.’
Cassandra sat up straighter. Where had that idea come from? ‘I’m supposed to be concentrating on the future of my business, not contemplating the state of my garden furniture!’
The thought of Jo’s shop floated into her mind’s eye. The restorer’s generous offer of future help made Cassandra smile. It would be good to have a project to discuss with her. Maybe restoring the tired patio set that had come with the house could be a good excuse to visit Jo?
Pulling her thoughts back to the task she was supposed to be tackling, Cassandra turned to a blank sheet of A4 paper in her notebook, and wrote ‘To Do List’. Then she wrote the number 1 at the side of the paper, and hovered her pen next to it with no idea what to write first.
Closing her eyes, Cassandra tried to picture herself sitting at her study desk in her flat. She had always thought clearly there. ‘You are sat on your usual leather chair. You are facing a staffing problem. How do you sort it out?’
Letting the thoughts form in her brain, Cassandra pictured herself in her favourite navy business suit, her hands dancing over her laptop’s keyboard. The mere idea of indecision wouldn’t have even dared knock at the front door of her flat, let alone entered her head. Breathing slowly, she immersed herself in the feelings of being in her small study with its minimalist shelves and cool grey walls, fixtures and fittings, and Cassandra wrote.
Ask Mr Clearer if he’d like to be the lawyer for my new business.
Decide what that new business is to be.
Write to each of my staff personally and reinforce what I have said to them on the phone.
Find Justin and discover the absolute truth.
Do up this house – sell it?
Get everything in writing.
Go back to London and start again.
As she wrote the last item on the list Cassandra sagged. The whole idea of starting all over again seemed a colossal task. When she’d launched the agency at the age of twenty-two she had felt unstoppable. In fact, now Cassandra thought about it, she had felt invincible even only a week ago. Then Justin had pulled the rug from under her feet, and in the space of a few hours everything she’d spent her life creating was lost.
Suddenly the life she lived felt worthless. It was all a lie.
Pouring another gin and tonic that was almost all gin, Cassandra tugged a jumper over her T-shirt as the sunshine began to fade. Her eyes fell on the dividing wall between her and Abi’s gardens. The compassion of her neighbour almost made it worse.
Abi’s story had been so much worse than her own. Justin hadn’t died, nor had he treated her as if she was an embarrassment. He had taken her for a fool though, hadn’t he? Or had he? Was it Jacinta? But if it was Jacinta, then why was Justin letting his wife destroy her?
Conscious that the gin was having more of an effect on her than was wise if she wanted to be able to function properly the following day, Cassandra tried
her mobile phone once more.
‘Answer, Justin! Answer, for goodness’ sake.’
The sound of Abi arriving home made Max hang up the phone with a quick ‘thank you’ to the hotel receptionist, who’d patiently assured him that they would have roses and champagne waiting in the room he’d just booked.
‘Max?’
‘I’m in the kitchen.’ He sat down hastily, not wanting her to know he’d been on the phone in case she worked out he’d been sorting an anniversary surprise. Getting up again as Abi walked in, Max automatically switched on the kettle.
‘Actually, I think I’d rather have a glass of wine.’
‘You alright, lass?’
Abi snuggled into Max’s side, taking comfort in the feeling of safety he always projected. ‘I’ll be better in approximately four hours’ time.’
‘Four hours? That’s eleven o’clock tonight.’
‘Which is after Stan has arranged for me to Skype Sally.’
‘Ah.’ Max pulled an open bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘How about you have wine and coffee? Dutch courage, but not too brave – if you see what I mean? Drunk in charge of a Skype link is probably some sort of weird criminal offence.’
Grateful for Max’s attempts at lightening the mood, Abi sat down, soon cradling a cup in one palm and a glass in the other. ‘Stan called as I walked home. What on earth am I going to say to Sally?’
‘How about the truth?’
Abi smiled. ‘So reassuring her, but with no promises of a guaranteed happy ever after?’
‘It’s all you can do. Tell Sally that you like Dora. That she isn’t after her dad’s money, and that Stan is happy. That’s all true, isn’t it?’
‘Sally always manages to make me feel guilty that I’m in England and she’s not.’
‘No she doesn’t, love. You make yourself feel guilty because you’re here and she isn’t. It was Sally’s choice to take herself and the children to Australia. ‘
‘I guess so.’ Abi nodded. ‘I’ll still be glad when it’s over. The next few hours are going to drag.’
‘Then we should fill the time profitably, don’t you think?’ Max wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Abi laugh out loud.
‘Max Pendale, are you trying to seduce me with comical facial expressions?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK!’ Abi grabbed his arm, was about to tow him towards the stairs when there was a knock at the front door. ‘On the other hand. . .’
‘Typical.’ Max let go of Abi and headed to the door. Listening out to see who it was, and to discover whether to get out more wine glasses or not, Abi heard the unmistakable sound of Beth and Jacob walking down the hallway.
‘How lovely, we were just considering getting a takeaway, weren’t we, Max?’ Abi looked pointedly at her partner, hoping he’d get the hint that she wanted to talk to Beth alone about Skyping Sally, and would volunteer himself and Jacob to go and fetch the food.
Her real intention, which was to discover how her friend was feeling now that the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy and if she’d plucked up the courage to tell the head at her school, was thwarted as Jacob produced two bottles from behind his back: one of champagne, and one of elderflower cordial.
Max stared at the bottle of cordial, then Jacob, then Beth, and back again before the penny dropped. He took his best friend’s hands. ‘You’re not?’
‘I am!’ Beth allowed herself to be engulfed by Max’s arms. ‘But I can’t quite take it in.’
Abi beamed, and hugged Jacob. ‘Oh my God, you really are going to be a daddy!’
The pizzas had been consumed, the champagne bottle was almost empty, and Beth had refused to drink any more elderflower-flavoured liquid ever again. Sat around the patio table in the back garden, the four friends chatted and laughed their way through the evening, until Abi thought her sides would ache.
‘I can’t believe you want me to be a godmother! Does this mean I have to buy a magic wand and a tutu?’
‘Ohh, I can picture you in a tutu. Pink and frilly presumably?’
‘Max!’ Beth smirked. ‘You used to be such a good boy.’
‘I am. Mostly.’ He stretched his hand across the patio table and took Abi’s palm in his. ‘And I promise I will be the pillar of respectability when my little godchild is about.’
Cassandra took a step back from the bedroom window, and let silent tears run down her face. She knew she’d cried more since she’d got to Cornwall than she had in the whole of her life.
‘Self-pitying bitch!’ She took another mouthful of gin, and rested her back against the cool bedroom wall as she listened to the sound of happy conversation floating up through the open window from Abi’s back garden.
Feeling utterly miserable, knowing that the only reason she didn’t have the sort of friends you could chat over a glass of wine with was because she’d sacrificed every one of the few spare minutes she’d had to spend with Justin, Cassandra slammed the window closed, and stumbled downstairs into the back garden so she could use her phone.
She angrily called Justin’s number and shoved the mobile to her ear. ‘Oh, what a surprise! The bloody answerphone. Well, I am shocked. If you are listening to this, Justin Smythe, you had better pick up right now. Show me you have the tiniest ounce of decency in you.’
Cassandra paused, giving her erstwhile lover the chance to pick up. ‘Oh well, there you go. Another surprise – not! No decency, then. Why should you have when you have sent me to the back of beyond, left me here, destroyed my business, and then gone and hidden behind your wife like a coward?’
She was shouting now, the words echoing around the narrow terraced garden, the gin that remained in the glass slopping over her hand. ‘I gave up my whole life for you! I thought we were getting married. Married, you bastard! Have you any idea what you’ve done?’
Slumping onto the bench, Cassandra stopped shouting, her voice dropping as it became strangled with emotion. ‘I don’t understand. What did I do wrong? Why are you hurting me like this? I love you. Please. . .please, Justin. Please. . .’ The sobbing started again then, and Cassandra found she couldn’t stop.
Hanging up, she sat still for a few minutes before her brain registered she was cold. She ran back inside, banging the back door behind her, and picked up the remaining gin.
Abi, Max, Beth and Jacob stared at each other, each feeling awkward and embarrassed to have unexpectedly overheard the desperate, drunken pleas of the new inhabitant of Miners Row.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Do you think we should go round?’
Max had been expecting Abi to ask the question, and already had his answer ready. ‘No, lass. By the sounds of it Cassandra has had a skinful. We will check on her in the morning, though.’
Beth and Jacob, their excitement on hold for a second, looked questioningly at each other, before Beth said, ‘I take it that was the new neighbour you’ve been worrying about?’
‘Yes.’ Feeling uncomfortable about talking about Cassandra behind her back, especially when she was evidently so distressed, Abi stood up. ‘Come on, it’s beginning to get chilly, let’s go inside.’
Leaving the men outside to finish the lager they’d moved onto after the champagne, Beth sat at the kitchen table and failed to stifle a yawn. ‘Seems as though we have far more to catch up on than I thought.’
‘Max is right, isn’t he; we shouldn’t disturb Cassandra until she’s sobered up.’ Abi was as much talking to the kettle she was filling as she was to Beth. ‘Her manner is rather unfortunate, but she sort of reminds me of how I used to be. I feel sorry for her.’
‘It seems this Justin guy has taken her for a right old ride.’
‘Cassandra helped me take the quilts down while you and Jacob were out the other night. By the sound of things there’s a very complicated knot that needs unpicking before she gets her life back.’
‘Do you think she’ll stay?’
Abi gave a hollow laugh. ‘No. That’s the only thing I’m su
re of! She made it very clear that she was not a seaside person, not in the slightest. Anyway, more importantly, what did the head say?’
‘Nothing. I mean . . . I haven’t told her Yet.’ Beth smiled. ‘I know it sounds like I’m putting off the evil day, but I’m not. I just wanted to enjoy the moment with you guys and Jacob for a while. I’ve arranged a meeting with the head on Monday.’
Abi nodded. ‘That makes sense. And you’re feeling OK in general?’
‘Fine. Bit queasy in the mornings, but nothing much else considering I’m three months gone already if the doctor has done her sums right. We have our first scan next week to make sure.’
‘Wow! That’s so soon.’
‘I know. It’s weird. I feel I’ve sort of missed out by not knowing before.’
‘On the other hand, you haven’t had to worry about it, and so you’re probably more relaxed, and that has to be good for the baby.’
‘That’s what the doctor said.’
Abi headed to the calendar that hung on the larder door. ‘If my calculations are right, I think you’re due around New Year’s Eve?’
Beth put her hand over her belly. ‘I can’t decide if that’s good planning or bad planning. I suppose it gets all the present-giving for the year over in one month!’
‘Planning? There’s a joke!’
‘Charming!’ Beth stuck her tongue out, and checked her wristwatch. ‘It’s half ten already. What time are you Skyping Sally?’
‘Oh, hell. In half an hour. I was having such a good time and then, what with Cassandra’s outburst, I’d forgotten all about it,’ Abi groaned. ‘I wish I knew what to say.’
‘I’ll stay if you like. Moral support.’ ‘I appreciate the offer, but you’re already yawning every time you think no one is watching. Jacob should be taking you home and tucking you up in bed.’
‘Home.’ Beth sighed. ‘That’s another problem, isn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I love my flat, but it’s hardly big enough for a family.’
Abi frowned. ‘You’ve got a little spare room.’
