Emma’s Secret (20 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

‘H
ello, darling,’ Tessa said as Mark walked into the kitchen. Giving him her most brilliant smile, she went on, ‘I was beginning to worry, you’re so late.’ Sliding off the stool, she went to meet him, gave him a hug, but he was so unresponsive she let her arms fall to her sides, suddenly deflated. ‘Where have you been?’ she now asked, her voice very quiet.

Pulling away from her, he answered gruffly, ‘On a bloody train, where the hell do you think I’ve been?’ Making a face, he added, ‘Public transport is diabolical in this country these days.’

‘Yes,’ Tessa murmured, retreating to her stool at the island counter, realizing he was in one of his belligerent moods.

His dark eyes followed her and instantly settled on the bottle of Beaujolais. He was at the island in two or three long strides, and he picked it up, shook it. ‘This bottle’s
empty!
You’ve been drinking again!’ he exclaimed, staring at her, his eyes suddenly full of icy disdain.

‘You say that as if I’m an alcoholic, for heaven’s sake. All I’ve had is a glass and a half. Most of that bottle of wine is in the
coq au vin.’
Hoping to avert another outburst of nastiness, she flashed her winning smile again, and explained, ‘I’ve made a big pot. I know how much you like it, darling.’

Ignoring her words, he waved the bottle in front of her face rather dangerously and intoned in a dire voice, ‘It’s a Fairley problem,
drink.
You don’t want to end up like your father. Or worse still, your great-grandmother, Adele Fairley. She was so soused one night she fell down the stairs at Fairley Hall and broke her bloody neck.’ He shook his head, his expression more disdainful than ever. ‘What a family I’ve married into.’

Tessa was gaping at him, totally taken aback. ‘Where on earth did that particular story come from? I’ve never heard it before, and if it were true I would have. So come on, who told you such a terrible lie about my great-grandmother Adele? And who impugned my father’s reputation?’

Mark Longden ran his hand through his already rumpled brownish-blond hair, and shrugged carelessly. A look of sudden indifference crossed his disgruntled face, and he muttered. ‘I
don’t know.
I heard it from someone. But it doesn’t matter who told me, it’s a well-known fact the Fairleys were huge tipplers, renowned across the county for their drinking, apparently. So just watch yourself, do you hear? I won’t have my daughter brought up by a drunken mother.’

‘Mark, stop this! And immediately. I’ve not even had two glasses of wine, and I rarely drink. And you know it. So stop it right now!’ Tessa was on her feet, regarding him intently, aware of some kind of implied threat behind his words. She was alerted to trouble, suddenly on her guard, asking herself if
he
had been drinking. And where had he been? This morning he had told her he was going out of town for the day. But where had he been
exactly?
And who with?

Mark had seated himself on one of the other stools, and he glanced at her, and said in a lighter and more normal voice, ‘I’d like a vodka. Please fix one for me, darling.’

Wanting to be conciliatory, Tessa smiled in relief, nodded and hurried across to the drinks cupboard at one end of the kitchen where the liquor was stored. She returned with a bottle of Russian vodka, put it on the counter, took ice from the refrigerator, then stood at the island mixing a drink for him.

‘Cheers,’ he said as he lifted the glass to his mouth and took a long swallow.

‘Cheers.’ Tessa picked up her glass which was now empty except for a few drops of wine. ‘Who was the client you went to see today?’ she asked, trying to sound casual, not wishing to start another row.

‘A chap up North,’ he muttered, staring into his drink absently, as if preoccupied.

‘Up North.
Were you in Yorkshire?’ she asked, instantly suspicious, especially after his ramblings about Adele Fairley and her father.

‘No, I meant the Midlands,’ he corrected himself, looking across at her. ‘I’m designing a house for him. Lots of money in it. For the firm.’ A strange ironic smile struck his mouth and he asked, ‘And what about your day? How did it go? Any quarrels with little sister? Did you talk to your mother? About the bloody succession? I know the answer to those questions. Rows with Linnet, I’m certain, just as I’m certain you haven’t spoken to your mother. About when you’re taking over as CEO.’

Tessa was on the verge of telling him what had transpired, and instantly changed her mind. It would cause trouble, she was suddenly very sure of that. He was in a strange mood, and if he had not been drinking then he was definitely on something. His eyes were slightly glazed, and although he was not at all slurred or unsteady, she detected a change in him. It was ever so slight but it was there. He was not quite himself.

Clearing her throat, she lied when she said, ‘My mother had important meetings with the board today. I didn’t get to see her at all. But I will, darling. Anyway, there’s no problem, really, it’s obvious I’m going to be the boss. I’m the eldest.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He swilled some of the vodka, then put the glass down, and looked at her intently. ‘Is something burning?’

‘Oh my God!’ Tessa ran to the stove, lifted the lid on the pot and peered inside. ‘No, nothing’s burnt. It’s all right. And the
coq au vin
looks great. You’re going to enjoy it,’ she said, turning to him.

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Come on, Mark, you must eat something. You’ve been gone since dawn, and if I know you, lunch got skipped.’

He did not respond. He simply stared at her morosely, his eyes glassy.

It took her a few minutes, but Tessa cajoled him with a certain adroitness, and finally he went into the breakfast area and sat down at the table, nursing his vodka with both hands.

As she served spoonfuls of the
coq au vin
onto the plates which had been warming on top of the stove, he called out, ‘Bring a bottle of Beaujolais and I’ll open it.’

Muttering under her breath, she did as he asked and then continued to serve their dinner. Once she had put the plates on the table, she went into the kitchen again for the bread basket and butter dish. Finally she sat down with him.

He was struggling with the bottle opener but managed, awkwardly, to pull out the cork at last. He poured the wine sloppily, splashing some of it onto the table as he did, his hand a trifle unsteady.

Observing him, Tessa thought of the way he had chastised her about drinking a short time before. Now he had obviously forgotten that, since he had filled her glass to overflowing. What’s wrong with him? she wondered, observing him acutely. Is he drunk? Or drugged? Her guard went up once more, and she decided to remain silent, listening to an inner voice that warned her to protect herself.

Earlier Tessa had been hungry, but now her appetite had totally disappeared. Nonetheless, she began to eat, putting a forkful of chicken into her mouth. It was delicious, but he was making her feel so nervous she could barely swallow the food.

The slamming down of his fork, the sound of metal hitting glass made her sit up with a jerk, alarm flaring in her. Swiftly she looked across at him. ‘Mark, what’s wrong?’

‘This is foul. I don’t know what you’ve cooked but it’s disgusting.
Pig swill!’

‘But it’s delicious,’ she exclaimed, and then instantly stopped speaking, not wanting to inflame him further. She felt a surge of panic inside, and an internal shaking took hold.

‘Don’t argue with me, you bitch!’ he yelled, his face growing red and contorted. He pushed the plate away so ferociously it slid across the glass table and fell to the floor with a crash.

Tessa did not dare move a muscle. She simply sat there staring at him, her large eyes growing wide with surprise.

‘Clean it up!’ he shouted angrily. ‘Or I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget.’ He half rose in his chair, raising his hand, and she leapt to her feet before he could touch her and flew into the kitchen. She found the dustpan and brush and ran back to the breakfast area.

Kneeling down, she swept the food and the shattered plate into the dustpan, and fled again, still shaking inside. A moment later, she returned with a wet dishcloth, knelt again, and washed the sticky mess off the polished parquet floor.

Unexpectedly, and so suddenly she went into a state of shock, she felt his hand gripping the back of her neck. He was standing over her, and she sensed, rather than saw, the menace in him. He tightened his grip on her neck, squeezing it roughly.

‘Please let go of me, Mark,’ she said, her voice soft, cajoling.

‘What’s going on between you and Toby Harte?’ he demanded. ‘You’d better tell me, bitch!’

‘Nothing’s going on. We’re family, we’ve always been best friends since childhood, you know that,’ she answered as evenly as possible. Staying calm and controlled was important, she realized that.

‘What I hear is that you’re more than friends,’ he hissed, squeezing her neck even harder. ‘What I hear is that he’s in your knickers and has been since you were kids.’

‘That’s not true, and you know it,’ she cried. ‘He’s my cousin, for God’s sake.’

‘Ha! Fat lot that means! Par for the course, I’d say, the way your bunch marry each other. Talk about an incestuous lot: your bloody family takes first prize.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing between Toby and me—’

‘Daddy! Daddy!’ Adele squealed, running into the breakfast area in her nightgown, dragging her rag doll Aggie by its arm.

Instantly Mark let go of Tessa and rushed to his daughter. He gathered her up in his arms, held her close to him. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he whispered against her softly curling blonde hair.

‘How’s Daddy’s special little girl? Are you all right, my pet?’

‘Yes.’ She nuzzled her face against his, then said, ‘Come see my doll, Daddy.’

‘But I can see her,’ he responded, taking hold of the rag doll she was dangling in one hand.

‘No, new doll,’ Adele said.

Tessa, who had immediately jumped up and retreated to the safety of the kitchen, explained quickly, ‘I bought her a doll today. It’s upstairs in her bedroom.’

Mark glanced at Tessa. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he murmured, and once more his voice sounded much more normal.

That’s for the benefit of Adele, Tessa thought, as she watched his retreating figure, wondering how long he would be gone. For the first time in her life she was afraid. And she did not know what to do. Her initial thought was to flee, to run out of the house and go to Toby’s flat. But Mark had Adele with him and she could not leave her child behind. Her eyes flew to her handbag on the far counter. Her mobile phone was in it, and she went to get it. But who should she call? Toby would come over immediately, and if she called Shane he would be here as fast as possible. And yet she did not want either of them to know about Mark and his treatment of her. It would humiliate her to confide in them.

Wait it out. See what happens, that inner voice told her. But she understood that she must be cautious, wary, and very alert.

After fifteen minutes, when Mark had not returned to the kitchen, Tessa went out into the hall and climbed the stairs, being as quiet as possible. As she crept down the corridor stealthily, she saw that the door of Adele’s room was open, light shining out, and she held her breath until she got there. All was quiet, perfectly still inside the room. When she finally tiptoed in she saw that Adele was already fast asleep, clutching the rag doll to her and sucking her thumb.

Bending over her daughter, Tessa smoothed the fair hair from her face, turned out the bedside lamp but left the small nightlight burning.

Once she had closed Adele’s door behind her, Tessa continued down the corridor to their bedroom. The door was half open and she pushed it, peered inside. Mark, half undressed, was sprawled across the bed. Lost to the world and snoring, he was in a drunken or drugged sleep: which she did not know.

After closing the bedroom door, Tessa stood in the corridor, hesitating, debating what to do. Finally she decided to sleep on the single bed in Adele’s room, which had been put there for her or Elvira to use if there was ever a medical problem with Adele. She knew Mark would never harm their child, and so she deemed it the safest place to be tonight.

Tessa lay on top of the single bed under the duvet cover, fully dressed except for her blazer and shoes, and clutching her mobile phone in one hand.

Although she had locked Adele and herself in the child’s room, she found it impossible to relax, but over the next hour Mark did not emerge from their bedroom and everything was quiet. Silence reigned throughout the entire house.

Eventually she dozed off from sheer exhaustion; it was only at dawn, when a glimmering of light began to seep in through the windows, that she suddenly awakened with a start, for a second feeling out of sorts and disoriented. And then she remembered the events of the night before, and her husband’s strange behaviour, and she became fearful for a brief moment.

Mark had always had a tendency to be volatile–he was excitable and even abrasive at times–but it was only in the last six months that he had become verbally abusive, and this had both startled and alarmed her.

As she lay there thinking about Mark, she remembered that there had often been unspoken criticism in his attitude towards her, plus a superiority in his manner in the last few years. The latter had amused her because she was nothing if not self-confident, a trait which she knew she had inherited from her great-grandmother, Emma Harte, via her grandmother Daisy and her mother. She was not easily cowed; intimidation rolled off her back like water, and she could be wonderfully articulate if she had to defend herself. The only thing that could make her truly apprehensive was physical violence directed at her daughter. Or her.

Last weekend a quarrel had erupted between her and Mark about who would succeed her mother. It was an old subject, and they had wrangled, and in the heat of the moment Mark had lunged at her, as if to punch her in the face. She had adroitly sidestepped him, but then she had tripped and fallen down the six steps that led to the lower-level larder, situated immediately above the basement.