Just a Family Affair (32 page)

Robert had been intrigued to see Mayday Perkins’ name in the appointments diary. What on earth did she want? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of opportunity to speak to him, for he came into the Horse and Groom every evening at thirty-five minutes past five - his office closed at half past and it took him precisely five minutes to walk along the high street. He always had a pint of Honeycote Ale, which he made last twenty minutes while he sat in contented contemplation munching his complimentary bowl of smoked almonds. And he would chat to Mayday, who loved this time of the day best - the quietish lull that was somehow full of expectation, just before the bar and the dining room started to fill. She often came and joined him for a cocktail, which Robert always insisted on buying even though she could have helped herself for nothing. He relished that twenty minutes because it belonged to him - not his clients and not his needy and rather grasping wife Fleur - and never did he resent spending those precious moments with Mayday for company. She charmed him. She was quirky, witty and gorgeous; voluptuous and earthy, a combination which Robert found quite beguiling. So unlike his wife Fleur, who was brittle and superficial. They were almost the antithesis of each other.

And here she was, in front of him, in a white dress that seemed to be on inside out because the seams were all showing, and a black bra underneath, and her hair tumbling everywhere. He looked at her from behind his half-moon glasses and gave her a broad beam.

‘How can I help you, m’dear?’ He always called her that. In fact, he called everything female and under sixty ‘m’dear’, except his own wife.

Mayday had thought very long and hard about it and decided that of all the people she knew, she trusted Robert Gibson the most, and that he would probably give her very good advice. Everyone who was anyone in and around Eldenbury used him. He was trusted and respected.

‘I wondered . . . if you could give some advice about something. I’m really not sure what to do.’

His face clouded over. ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’

‘Not exactly.’ Mayday bit her lip. ‘Although I’m starting to think it’s a bit of a nuisance. I haven’t told anyone yet. You’ll be the first. And I don’t want it getting out.’

‘I’m privy to more secrets than you could possibly imagine. I wouldn’t be a very good solicitor if I went blabbing to all and sundry. Nothing you tell me goes beyond these four walls.’

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’ Mayday was flustered, worrying that she’d offended him. But he gave her another kindly smile.

‘It’s all right. Just rest assured that nothing you tell me will go any further.’

She took a deep breath.

‘I’ve won the lottery.’ She laughed, realizing it was the first time she’d actually spoken those words. ‘Over five million.’

Robert spluttered. He’d thought perhaps she’d been cited in a divorce case, or possibly wanted to write her will.

‘How the dickens have you managed to keep that quiet? Most women would be running up and down the high street blaring it out to the world and his wife.’

Mayday looked fierce. ‘I don’t want anyone knowing. Not yet. Especially not my mother.’

Robert nodded understandingly. ‘I think you’re very wise. Lottery wins are notorious for bringing out the worst in people. They can often be a curse rather than a blessing.’ He looked at her gravely. ‘But you’re right to confide in me. We should make sure you’re being looked after properly and investing it wisely. I know they have people that do all of that, but if you want me to make some recommendations . . .’

‘Actually, it’s not so much that. I’ve had an idea of what I’d like to do with it. Or some of it. And I want to know how to go about it.’

‘Well, don’t open a florist, whatever you do.’

Mayday giggled. Twig was very successful on the surface, but Fleur was incapable of keeping to a budget and spent her profits before she’d made them. Robert had often confided in Mayday rather ruefully about his spendthrift wife. She leant forward, and he had an excellent view of her alabaster bosom.

‘I want to buy into Honeycote Ales.’

Robert’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. It hadn’t been a week since Mickey had sat in that very chair, gloomily revealing to him that they were going to have to sell. Coincidence? Robert didn’t think so. He knew Mayday had her wits about her. And that she was quite close to Patrick. He’d seen them chatting in the bar on more than one occasion, and he could read body language. They were very comfortable with each other. Did she have inside knowledge? Robert decided to play his cards very close to his chest. He didn’t want to betray the Liddiards’ confidence, any more than he would dream of betraying Mayday’s. He’d simply play devil’s advocate.

He steepled his fingers. ‘Honeycote Ales?’

Mayday gave him a knowing smile.

‘We can play I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know. Or we can cut to the chase. I know they’re looking for a buyer. I also know they’ve got a string of conditions attached that no potential purchaser would even begin to honour, so they’re on a wild goose chase.’

Robert stayed silent. This was true. Mickey had been through the wish list with him earlier in the week, and it had been all Robert could do not to tell him to dream on.

‘I know the brewery’s weaknesses. I know its strengths. And while I sympathise with the Liddiard ideals in principal, I think the whole thing needs shaking up. More to the point, it needs cash if it’s going to survive.’ She spread out her hands. ‘Which is where I come in.’

Robert had to force himself to shut his mouth, which he had felt dropping open in astonishment. He let her carry on.

‘I don’t want to buy a fuck-off house and a holiday villa and a Ferrari with my winnings. Well, maybe just a small Ferrari.’ She flashed him an impish grin. ‘But I don’t want to fritter the rest away. I want to invest in something that will give my life some meaning. I’ve worked for Honeycote Ales since I was seventeen. I love the Horse and Groom. I know it’s tragic, but it is actually my life. So it makes perfect sense to me, to put my winnings into the company I love. And I’m pretty sure with the right team behind me I could make it work.’

Robert nodded, very carefully, taking in everything she had said.

‘So what do you want me to do?’

‘I want you to approach them for me. Tell them you’ve got an interested investor. Show them my ideas. I’m working on a proposal. It’ll be ready by the end of the week.’ She paused. ‘But I don’t want you to tell them it’s me.’

‘They will want to meet you. You’ll have to come clean eventually.’

‘Yes,’ said Mayday. ‘But by then they’ll want me so much it won’t matter.’

Robert looked impressed. ‘You’re a shrewd one, aren’t you? I’m envious, I must say. I’ve always thought it would be fun to run a brewery.’

Mayday put her head to one side and surveyed him. He felt himself go warm under her gaze.

‘Come in with me,’ she suggested.

Robert shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Me?’

‘You’d give me some credibility. After all, I’m only a jumped up barmaid at the end of the day. They might take me more seriously if I had you as a partner.’

For a wild moment, Robert was tempted. But he knew he’d be going in for all the wrong reasons. Mayday was totally bewitching. He wasn’t even sure he should be acting for her. He pulled himself together.

‘Somehow I don’t think Fleur would like it. And I’ve got enough to do running this place. But thank you. I’m very flattered.’

‘But you will speak to them?’

‘Of course. Although we need to do our groundwork first. Bring in your proposal and we’ll go through it. Then we need to talk about price, terms, timescale . . . It’s not just a question of writing a cheque. We need to protect your interests.’

Robert’s professional side suddenly took over. He remembered the finer details of Mickey’s meeting with him. There were definitely murky goings-on with the Liddiards, and while he couldn’t betray his client confidentiality, he didn’t want Mayday swooping in and eradicating their problems just because she’d struck lucky. At which point it occurred to him that he really shouldn’t be representing both parties.

He knew which client he’d rather keep.

But it didn’t matter at this early stage. Initially, he’d merely be effecting an introduction. He felt a frisson of excitement. He loved days like this. Days that threw up the unexpected, not the usual tedious conveyancing and alimony squabbles that made up much of the small-town solicitor’s workload.

‘And now, m’dear, I insist on offering you a glass of champagne to celebrate your win.’

Robert kept a supply of bubbles in his fridge for when his clients closed deals or exchanged contracts or finalized their divorces.

Five minutes later they clinked glasses.

‘I must say,’ said Robert, ‘I don’t want to count our chickens, but I am rather pleased. I had visions of Honeycote Ales being bought out by some ghastly asset stripper.’

‘Who says I’m not an asset stripper?’ Mayday shot back, her eyes full of mischief.

Afterwards, Robert sat back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. That was the beauty of living in Eldenbury. Sometimes things just fell into place. He couldn’t think of anything more pleasing than Mayday at the helm of Honeycote Ales. For a moment he wondered about her and Patrick, then remembered Mickey had told him Patrick was about to get married. Pity, thought Robert, who was an unashamed romantic. That would have been the perfect ending.

M
andy spent all week trying to persuade Caroline to come on her hen weekend, but without success. ‘I need an ally,’ she begged. ‘I can’t cope with the twins on my own. You know what they’re like.’

Kitty and Sasha, even if they did have wildly different dress sense, attracted much attention on a night out, identical twins apparently being the stuff of every male’s fantasy, and Mandy didn’t want to be left standing like a spare part. And Caroline was a notorious party animal, or at least she had been pre-children. She was the first on the dance-floor and the last to drop. Mandy knew she would have the time of her life, given the chance.

But at the moment she felt too exhausted to even contemplate Mandy’s offer.

‘I’m in bed by nine every night,’ Caroline protested. ‘You don’t want me around. I’d be a complete yawn. Plus I’ve got nothing to wear. I can’t go clubbing in a sick-stained sweat-shirt. ’

In the end, Mandy asked Lucy to try and persuade her. ‘She needs a break. And she’d enjoy it once she got there. She’d get a bit of sun and a bit of fun.’

Lucy agreed to do her best to talk Caroline round. When she walked into her kitchen, however, she was shocked by what she found and immediately felt riddled with guilt. She knew Caroline had been struggling with the three little ones, but she’d been so wrapped up in the wedding and its preparations that she hadn’t found the time before now to drop in and see how she was coping. Now, the scene that greeted her made her stomach curdle.

Constance was wandering around with just a top on. Lucy could see her potty by the back door, but judging by the wet patches on the floor she hadn’t made it. Henry was slumped in a beanbag eating handfuls of Cheerios out of the box and watching a video on a portable television turned up to full volume. Percy was sitting in his highchair surveying it all like a baby king, still in his babygro, gnawing on a dessert spoon which he occasionally gagged on, then withdrew. When Lucy picked him up, she realized that half his weight came from the fact that his nappy hadn’t been changed for hours - it swelled out around him like a life belt. The breakfast things were still everywhere - bowls of mush and bits of banana and crusts of bread on every available surface.

Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where’s Mummy?’ asked Lucy, panicking inwardly but trying to seem calm.

Henry shrugged and stuffed another handful of Cheerios in his mouth.

Carrying Percy, Lucy walked through the house cautiously. She found Caroline in the living room, fast asleep in front of the television. She started awake when Lucy called her.

‘I wasn’t asleep,’ she protested. She looked dreadful. She was wearing an old maternity skirt and a baggy peasant blouse. The elasticated sleeves were digging cruelly into the flesh at the top of her arms, and she had no bra on. Her hair was lank, her skin mottled, her eyes dark and bruised-looking. Lucy didn’t think she’d had a bath or a shower for some time. She looked about ten years older than the last time Lucy had seen her, and she hadn’t been looking her best then.

‘Caroline, those children were all alone in the kitchen. Percy was in his high chair. Anything could have happened to them. What if they’d opened the back door, or if one of them had got a knife?’ It wasn’t in Lucy’s nature to lecture, but she was deeply shocked. Surely it went against any maternal instinct to leave your children unsupervised?

Caroline just stared at her blankly. She was catatonic with tiredness, Lucy realized.

‘I’m going to take Percy and Connie upstairs and give them a quick bath. Then I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen. Then we need to talk.’

She was just turning to go when Caroline’s voice rasped out.

‘It’s all your fault.’

‘Mine?’

‘It’s all very well you walking in here and giving me a lecture. But you’re the one who told me to have him. Remember?’

True enough, it was Lucy Caroline had turned to when she’d found out she was accidentally pregnant yet again, just three months after giving birth to Constance. She’d sat in the kitchen at Honeycote House, pale with shock.

‘I know it’s an awful thing to say, but do you think I should get rid of it?’ she’d asked. ‘It’s early days - I’d only need to take a pill. It wouldn’t be like a real . . .’ She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to say the word.

Now, Lucy felt the need to defend the advice she had given Caroline at the time. ‘All I said was I think you’d regret it if you had an abortion.’