The Last Resort (21 page)

“Small world, isn’t it?” Declan bellowed, proffering the teapot aggressively.

“Yes,” I agreed weakly, trying to accept the idea that Declan, of all people, was a private-school boy. Curiouser and curiouser. “Hi, Tam.”

“Hello, Ava,” Tam replied courteously, his face strangely bland. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? “Are you feeling better this morning?”

That was it. He felt guilty about skipping out on me the night before. Ha. I’d be sure to turn the screw on him for that. “I’m feeling as good as I can under the circumstances,” I said, affecting a veneer of polite restraint. Laying it on thick, and no mistake.

“I’m sorry about leaving you in the restaurant last night.” He was looking steadily at me, speaking with sincerity.

He’s had a head injury,
I decided.

“Don’t worry about that,” Declan said chummily, smacking him on the shoulder, “we had a good aul’ piss-up last night, we took care of her.”

I shot an acidic look at him. He was ruining the effect. “It’s OK, Tam,” I replied coolly, trying to salvage things a bit.

“Right!” Sharon chirruped, on cue. “Everyone ready? We’re walking down to Clifton Beach, if that’s alright, Tam. It’s only a little way down the road from Camp’s.”

“Of course,” Tam said, evenly, and drained his cup. “Thanks so much for the tea. Can I wash up?”

Sharon tittered with delight. “Oh, you old charmer, there’s no need for that,” she smiled.

Then, as they all filed out, to me,
sotto voce
: “I’d like to see
him
in his scants.”

“Sharon!”

“What? Why didn’t you say he was such a looker, anyway?”

“You’re disgusting,” I hissed, trying to get her to close the subject.

“Remember what I was saying about getting back on the horse?”

“
Shut it!
”

Of course, Sharon and Declan paired up, and Peter and Randy and Michelle and Sairi walked all together in a little blob, leaving me as Tam’s reluctant escort. And so, as we trotted briskly through the frangipani-scented morning air, we did what Westerners always do when they are trying to be polite: we made small talk.

He pointed out the general loveliness of the summer weather; cloudless, with a light breeze from the south.

I concurred.

He commented on how pretty Camp’s Bay was, and especially how unusual it was to have a white-sand beach in such proximity to a mountain.

I agreed.

Then, after inquiring after one another’s general health, we discussed how we slept the night before. Both of us poorly, apparently.

“Ava,” he said then, and I was confused when my heart jumped. Surely not because he was saying my name? That only happened with Jack. “I want you to tell me the whole story. Maybe we can piece something together.”

My stomach fluttered. I’d been pretending all morning that yesterday had never happened and I was not even thinking about divorcing my husband. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” He trailed off. I glanced up at him, puzzled, and was alarmed I hadn’t noticed it before: his face seemed swollen with grief. Had he been crying? “I mean, I think there’s a lot that I don’t understand. I want you to tell me what happened between you and Jack. As much as you think might be relevant.”

I balked. Not again. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

Then I tried to reconsider when I saw the pleading in his eyes. Why not tell him? Maybe it would help. At least he was part of what had happened, in a way, so I didn’t feel like I was dumping details on him that he didn’t want to know. He needed to hear the story too.

I sighed.

“You don’t have to—” he began, and for the first time in my life I heard a note of uncertainty in Tam’s voice. He was entrusting me with something—although I wasn’t entirely sure what. Instinctively, I wanted to trust him back.

I took a deep breath. “I met him at this gallery. An exhibition—I suppose he had some kind of an interest in it, or maybe he was putting it on.

“Anyway, he offered me a job. I thought at first that he was chatting me up, but obviously not. So that’s when I went along to the office and met you. And fell over as I came through the door.”

“I felt so sorry for you.”

“Thanks. You didn’t act it.”

“Well—yes, I suppose I didn’t. Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” I said graciously. “I liked the job, so it didn’t matter in the end that the interview was crap.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” said Tam. “I thought someone with your experience would be bored.”

I laughed. “I didn’t have any experience of anything. I lied. The closest I’ve ever got to freelance PR repping was handing out samples in a supermarket when I was 16.”

The look on his face was thunderous.
Oops.

“Tam,” I said soothingly, “it’s all over now. I’m sorry I lied. Let’s put it behind us, shall we?”

“You’re right,” he said gruffly. “Carry on.”

It occurred to me how little I understood him. Who knew that there were men in the world today who still cared whether someone lied or told the truth? He was a different animal to any other I’d encountered, that was for sure.

I thought of how he’d responded when he’d found out that Jack had lied to him about my involvement in the inheritance thing. No wonder he got so upset. And no wonder he took Jack at his word when he said I was in on it; he’d never doubt his own brother’s honesty. “He’s betrayed you too, hasn’t he?” I said, glancing sideways to gauge his response.

A vein bulged in his forehead as he swallowed hard. He nodded. For a moment, we looked out to sea, and enjoyed the brief calm of walking in silence.

“Did he really tell you outright that I knew about this—this trust that he wanted to get his hands on?”

“He did. You remember when I came to the office the first time after you two were back from Paris? That was when he told me. And I believed him. I really did.” Tam shook his head, his face sad.

“So this has all been a shock to you? I thought you didn’t get on with Jack.”

“Why would you think that?” He sounded taken aback.

“Well,” I said uncomfortably, “you seemed to hardly ever see each other. And when you did, it was just to tell him off.”

Tam was quiet for a moment. “Although I’m younger than Jack, I’ve always been like the older brother. I felt it was my responsibility to keep him in check. Alfie—he’s never been the one to do it, not even when we were really young. And I know we don’t see each other much socially. But . . . there are reasons for that.”

I tried not to be nosy, but it was no use. “What reasons are those?”

I heard the grin in his voice. “I can’t believe that Jack never told you any of this. What did you talk about?”

“Not much,” I said, truthfully. “Funny stories about his clients, or his friends, or some gossip from a party he went to. He’s so amusing. I never noticed that we never had a real conversation.”

“He’s a laugh to be around. It’s easy to get caught up.”

“Yeah.”

We fell into a brooding silence, with nothing but the sound of our footsteps and the dull roar of the sea to distract us from our thoughts.

“You never said what the reasons were,” I pointed out. “For not seeing each other much.”

He laughed, but when I glanced at him I could see the pain in his bearing. “You know we’re half-brothers, don’t you?”

“I-I did know that, but Jack never said so. He calls you his brother.”

“Easier that way. Well, we’re not full brothers. Fenella’s my stepmother, I suppose.”

“And your mum?”

“Rose. Rose Gordon. The Honourable, in fact.” His eyes were far away.

“And Alfie divorced her?” I did the maths of pregnancies and births in my head. “Or never married her?”

“He thought she had money. She was very, very young; only seventeen. By the time she learnt she was pregnant, Alfie had already found out that my grandfather, Lord Gore, was living on credit and the goodwill of relatives. And he’d already married Fenella.”

“Who presumably had money?”

“Her father was a self-made millionaire, the son of a miner. He was desperate to see his little girl marry into old money, from what I’ve gathered. He got his wish, and financed their lifestyle for years after the wedding. Eventually, Alfie became successful as an art dealer. Jack was groomed to take over the business.”

“But something went wrong?”

“Well, not exactly. Or, I suppose, it depends which way you look at it. Basically, instead of waiting quietly in the wings, Jack poached Alfie’s clients. One by one, at first, but later, he became bolder. It sounds incredibly unethical, I know, but Alfie
is
a complete bastard, make no mistake. Mostly, he barely noticed that Jack existed—palmed him off to nannies, then to boarding schools. And then, when it suited him, he’d spoil Jack with an outrageous gift, to bribe him, or to keep him quiet about an indiscretion. Or for no reason at all, other than to confuse him. Alfie thought of his family as pawns, accessories for a glamorous life. It was hard for Jack.”

He glanced at me, as if to check whether I was still listening.

“Alfie even had Fenella institutionalized during Jack’s first year at Harrow, after she had a breakdown from the separation. She was a good woman, in her own way, and she worshipped the ground Jack walked on. But Alfie crushed her for it. Made her feel she wasn’t good enough to run in his circles, and told her that her son was distracting her from her duties as a society wife. He literally drove her to drink.”

“That’s horrible,” I said.

“Yeah. Ridiculous what people do to one another, eh? Very nasty man.”

“So that’s why Alfie no longer speaks to Jack? For ruining his business?”

“In part. But it’s also to punish Fenella.”

“Really?” I was puzzled. “Whatever for?”

“Well, I suppose you could say he thinks she drove him to divorce. Alfie’s a dreadful snob; when her drinking got out of hand, and she clearly needed help, he couldn’t bear to be associated with her anymore. He wanted a wife that did as she was told, not someone who needed care and understanding. So off she went, at his request. But he was furious with her when she fought for a decent settlement. It was her father’s doing—I’m sure if it were up to Fenella, she’d have disappeared without a titter. But when her dear old Daddy took a look at her bank statements, and realised just how many millions Alfie had disposed of during their marriage, he’d have been damned if he allowed that.”

“I see,” I said, finally understanding it all. “So Jack, in his eyes, ruined his business, and Fenella ruined his bank balance. So he cuts them both off as comprehensively as possible.”

“But there’s more, of course. Alfie’s father left millions in a trust for Jack, and skipped his own son. Understandably; he’d had nothing to do with Alfie since he abandoned my mother for Fenella. And that’s the money Jack thought he’d get to if he married.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Well, he would have, but he didn’t read the fine print. Makes sense; usually it would be me who did that. But he knew better than to fill me in on his plans. He thought, if I tick all the boxes, of course I’ll get the money. Stupid of him, really. I don’t know how he thought he was going to get away with it, just marrying someone off the street. But that’s Jack. Using and abusing.”

I must have gone white as a sheet, because when Tam caught sight of my face, he looked horrified. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting it’s
you
he’s used like that. It’s just so unreal. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

In fact, I was far away, remembering one of the first conversations Jack and I had ever had—a conversation about Tam.
Self-involved. Ruthless.

I breathed out. “It’s OK. It’s just embarrassing, you know? To find out you’ve been had.” I laughed a little. “But it’s not you who’s upsetting me. You’re a good storyteller, anyway. Sometimes I forget it’s me who’s playing the role of the spurned wife.”

After a painful moment, he murmured, “I feel spurned, too,”

We were silent.

“And what about your mother?” I said, gamely trying to buoy the conversation a little.

It was the wrong thing to say, though. Instantly his face clouded over. “She’s living with her parents. Outside Aberdeen.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, guiltily. “Now
I’ve
upset you.”

He sighed. “You haven’t. It’s her that upsets me. She held a candle for Alfie for decades. Never married. She deserved better.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.”

“But Alfie cared for you? Sent you money?”

“No. His father did. Sent money every month, and made sure that I met Jack, and got to know him. We were in the same schools most of the time, actually, thanks to him. But Alfie, no: he wanted nothing to do with me. He doted on Jack, in his own way and for his own ends, but he didn’t want to pour money onto an illegitimate child.”

I thought of when I used to call him Tam the Bastard.
He’s probably been called that very thing by his own father.