The Moment She Left (8 page)

‘I’m sixty-five, not twenty-five. No one expects me to have good arms, or a young face, or a girlish figure. You need to try and be happy in your own skin, Pamela . . . No, don’t shout at me, it wouldn’t be a good way to start the evening and the caterers will be expecting us downstairs any minute.’

‘I need to make a phone call first.’

‘Who to?’

‘What do you mean, who to?’

Trying it in French, Rowzee said,
‘A qui?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Because I do.’

‘I don’t ask who you’re calling all the time, so why are you bugging me? Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’

As Rowzee turned for the door she glanced along Pamela’s bookshelves, a habit of hers, and spotting a paperback with a torn spine she took it out, intending to glue it back together. To her amazement it turned out to be the most unlikely addition to Pamela’s collection. ‘What’s this doing here?’ she asked, holding up a copy of
The Satanic Bible
.

Pamela looked round and almost shrank in horror. ‘You must have put it there,’ she accused. ‘And now you can take it away again. I suppose you thought it was funny, putting something like that in my room?’

‘Nothing to do with me,’ Rowzee assured her. ‘I thought you’d thrown it out when you found it in Victor’s library.’

‘I did. I mean, I thought I did. You must have rescued it.’

Rowzee laughed.

‘I think it’s disgraceful that he even owned it,’ Pamela snorted. ‘I know you say it was for research, but I used to wonder about him . . . He was always far too interested in the dark arts . . .’

Still laughing, Rowzee kept hold of the book and continued to the door. ‘By the way, it seems the little trick you tried playing on nature hasn’t worked. It’s raining.’

‘No doubt because you told everyone it was my birthday, not yours.’

Rowzee didn’t deny it, although she hadn’t told anyone. Graeme probably had though, and Pamela’s daughters certainly would have. ‘If someone brings me a present, I’m keeping it,’ she warned, and with an airy little wave she crossed the landing to her own room, still enjoying the memory of Pamela accusing Victor of being into black magic.

‘I always knew there was something strange about you,’ she’d cried heatedly. ‘And don’t try passing it off as research to me. I’m not as gullible as my sister.’

Assuming his best astonished manner, Victor had said, ‘It’s not a secret, you know. Would you like to become a member of our cult? We’re crying out for vampires.’

He’d teased her mercilessly, until in the end she’d stomped off in high dudgeon vowing never to set foot in their ungodly house again. Rowzee couldn’t remember exactly how long she’d stayed away on that occasion, but she was fairly certain that it was Graeme who’d brought her back, insisting there was nothing to fear.

As if anyone could ever have had anything to fear from Victor. He’d been the gentlest, sweetest, most generous person alive – his irrepressible roguish streak notwithstanding. He’d also been very fond of Pamela in his way, and Rowzee knew Pamela had felt the same about him – she’d seen her wiping away tears at his funeral. However, it was true that he’d had secrets, well one, anyway, that Rowzee knew about, but it was
nothing like the nonsense Pamela had accused him of. Devil worship, as if! No, the part of his past that he had been hiding was nothing at all to do with an unsavoury cult, but it could still make Rowzee anxious, even nervous, today.

Deciding this evening really wasn’t the time to dwell on the awful day that Victor had come home all bloodied and bruised, which was when he’d been forced to reveal his secret to her, she skilfully swept it aside and went to fluff up her hair.

A few minutes later she was about to go and check on the caterers – her birthday present to Pamela – when she heard someone knocking on Pamela’s door and Graeme calling out for the birthday girl.

‘Don’t come in! Don’t come in!’ Pamela squealed. ‘I’m on the phone.’

Able to imagine exactly how her brother would respond to that – with as much amusement as Rowzee had – Rowzee threw open her own door and was immediately treated to a cheery wink as he crossed the landing to sweep her into an embrace.

‘You look terrific,’ he told her. ‘In fact, I do believe I could eat you all up.’

Laughing at the threat she used to make to him when he was small and she and Pamela already in their teens, Rowzee said, ‘You look rather dashing yourself, young man. Are the boys able to make it? It would be wonderful to have at least one of them here.’

‘I’m afraid they’re in Turkey with their mother and stepfather,’ he reminded her, ‘but they send their love.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve had emails so I know that. Such a pity they’re missing the party.’

Tucking her arm through his, Graeme walked her towards the stairs. ‘So who’s her ladyship on the phone to?’

‘Heaven knows, but it sounds as though she’s taken her clothes off to make the call.’

Laughing, he stepped back and gave Pamela’s door another playful knock.

‘Who is it?’ she called out grandly.

‘Beelzebub,’ Rowzee called back, astonishing her brother.

‘You’re very funny,’ Pamela declared, coming on to the landing. ‘Darling, lovely to see you,’ she cooed at Graeme, wrapping him in her floaty chiffon sleeves. ‘Did you bring the champagne?’

‘Of course. Everything’s sorted, you don’t need to worry about a thing. You look . . . amazing. New dress?’

‘As a matter of fact it is,’ she admitted, giving him a twirl. ‘I had it delivered from a very upmarket Internet company who only sell designer clothes. It came by courier from London and they’d have had it picked up for free if it turned out not to be suitable, but I rather think it is.’

It was, in fact, the loveliest dress Rowzee had seen Pamela in for some time, and she rather regretted her jibe about it fitting now, as it would have been much kinder to tell her how very glamorous she looked in what was undoubtedly a very expensive creation.

After righting her wrong, she promptly dropped herself in it again by telling Graeme about the plans for a facelift.

‘Can’t you keep anything to yourself?’ Pamela sighed as Graeme regarded her darkly.

‘As a matter of fact, I’m very good at secrets,’ Rowzee informed her, ‘and you didn’t say that this was one. Tell her she doesn’t need it,’ she instructed Graeme.

‘You don’t need it,’ he repeated obediently.

‘You would say that,’ Pamela retorted. ‘Are the girls here yet?’

‘We’d know if they were,’ he replied, gesturing for his sisters to go first down the stairs.

‘Oh my goodness, look at that rain,’ Pamela cried as they reached the busy kitchen with smartly clad caterers darting about all over the place, and the French doors wide open to the terrace. ‘It’s torrential.’

‘But rather lovely,’ Rowzee declared, enjoying the scent of wet grass and cooling air that was drifting in from the garden. ‘We can still use the covered part of the terrace, and there’s plenty of room inside if we move some furniture.’

Apparently remembering something, Pamela turned to Graeme. ‘Lucie tells me Andee Lawrence is coming,’ she declared excitedly. ‘That’s marvellous news, especially if her husband comes too. We can try to persuade him to run for mayor,’ and spotting her daughters arriving with their husbands and children she sailed off to greet them.

Holding him back as he made to follow, Rowzee whispered, ‘Am I right in thinking that you and Andee Lawrence . . . Weren’t you seeing her for a while?’

With an ironic grimace Graeme said, ‘Nothing ever gets past you, does it, Rowzee Cayne? You’re right, we had a bit of a thing about three years ago. Nothing serious, and in case you’re wondering, she wasn’t with her husband at the time. In fact, it was before she was married.’

‘I don’t sit in judgement,’ she assured him, although she would have if he had been involved in that sort of deceit, for she’d always considered cheating to be an unforgivable crime. ‘Will you find it awkward if Martin does come tonight?’ she asked.

His eyebrows rose. ‘I shouldn’t think so. We’re all grown-ups, I hope.’

‘I confess I’m looking forward to seeing Andee to find out how her children are getting along at uni, especially Alayna. I do hope they don’t decide to go and live abroad when they graduate, the way yours keep threatening. I miss those boys terribly as it is – if they were so far away . . .’

‘Life would be more peaceful,’ he assured her, turning to catch Katie’s little princesses as they came flying down the hall shouting his name. Scooping them up, one in each arm, he allowed himself to be showered in royal kisses.

‘Oh, Alfie, look at you,’ Rowzee cried delightedly, as Lucie’s two-year-old knight in shining armour came toddling in through the door. ‘You’re the most handsome little dragon-slayer I’ve ever seen.’

Slashing his sword awkwardly from side to side, Alfie made to stab her as she went down to his height. She never said so to anyone, but he reminded her so
much of her own little soldier when he was the same age that it was sometimes hard to look at him without welling up.

‘Rowzee? Rowzee? Are you all right?’ she heard Graeme asking.

Looking up at him, she blinked blearily as she said, ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

‘Are you dizzy?’ He sounded anxious.

Belatedly realising she was slumped against the wall, she said, ‘What do you mean? I was playing dead, wasn’t I, Alfie?’

Clearly not sure what was happening, Alfie the Lionheart stabbed her again, and she gave a gulp of pretend agony before allowing Graeme to help her to her feet.

She was fine, no harm done, just a little fuzziness in her eyes that would go away in a minute.

What a quick thinker she was!
I was playing dead
.

Within an hour the house was bursting at the seams with all their guests, and Rowzee was on tipsy-top form as she floated amongst them, loving them all for coming and hoping that Pamela was enjoying herself too. She certainly seemed to be, the way she was laughing so heartily at whatever Charles Stamfield was saying, and since Graeme was with them and Rowzee hadn’t said hello to Charles yet she was just starting in their direction when someone touched her arm.

To her delight it turned out to be Andee Lawrence, looking supremely elegant in a lemon knee-length shift dress and shiny gold pumps. And such glorious hair, all dark curls tumbling around her lovely face and
shapely shoulders. ‘I’m so pleased you came,’ Rowzee cried warmly, embracing her. ‘When Lucie told us she’d invited you I wanted to kiss her – and would have if she hadn’t been at the other end of the phone. How are you? You’re looking quite stunning.’

‘Thank you, but I can’t hold a candle to you,’ Andee informed her affectionately. ‘Retirement is obviously suiting you a lot better than I’m sure it’s going to suit the school.’

‘Oh, tosh,’ Rowzee exclaimed modestly. ‘They’ll get along just fine without me, but tell me about Alayna. I was so proud when she got into Bristol. Is she enjoying it? From her emails I’m thinking she is.’

‘You probably know more than I do,’ Andee admitted, ‘but yes, I think it’s working out. She asked me to send her love this evening and was wondering if she could pop in to see you sometime over the summer.’

‘Tell her I’d be honoured, if she can spare the time,’ Rowzee enthused. ‘I know how busy young people are. I shall want to hear all about everything she’s up to, including the boyfriends. Most especially the boyfriends.’ Leaning a little closer and lowering her voice, she said, ‘Before anyone interrupts us I’d like to say how relieved we all are that you’ve agreed to help Blake. Please don’t take that as pressure, I understand how difficult it is – well, I probably don’t, but it’s just too awful, what he’s going through. I know the police have done their best, but with all the budget cuts over the last few years . . . Oh, ssh, here he is . . .’

As Andee turned to greet Blake Rowzee took his arm, showing how very fond she was of him, but before a
greeting could take place someone called out, ‘Andee Lawrence? Can that really be you?’

Recognising the voice immediately, Andee’s eyes lit up. ‘Charles Stamfield! How
are
you?’ she cried, returning the ardour of his embrace as he swept her into his arms. ‘I haven’t seen you in so long.’

‘Far too long,’ he admonished, drawing back to look at her. ‘As gorgeous as ever,’ he decided. ‘Actually, even more so.’

‘Look at you,’ she grinned, giving him an ostentatious once-over. ‘Still a heart-throb, I see.’ He was indeed an exceptionally handsome man in his mid-forties with deep brown eyes, a shock of dark wavy hair and the kind of smile that had always made women’s hearts melt. ‘Did you get my message after the last election?’ she asked. ‘We were all crushed in our house, but the region’s got what it deserved after voting in the twit we’ve got now and turning its back on you.’

‘I’ll second that,’ Graeme interjected, adding drily, ‘I take it you two know each other.’

Laughing, Charles slipped an arm round Andee’s shoulders. ‘Andee and I go way back,’ he answered. ‘In fact, we were at school together, in London, before her family moved to Kesterly . . .’

‘Where yours already were,’ she put in.

‘Right next door to here,’ Rowzee added, ‘in Burlingford Hall. Your dear parents, how we all loved them . . .’

‘In spite of them sending their kids off to college in the States,’ Charles teased.

‘Probably because of it,’ Rowzee insisted. ‘Charles went to Princeton,’ she declared proudly, for the benefit of anyone listening who might not already know.

‘But I came back,’ he reminded her.

‘You did indeed and with the most beautiful American wife – and you’ve made such a marvellous success of your life, in spite of the silly election thing.’

‘All started by my great-grandfather,’ he reminded her, referring to the financial institution of which he was joint chairman and managing director, as well as the Hall, purchased by the same great-grandfather at the beginning of the last century and completely restored. To Andee he said, ‘So you and Martin finally got married. Is he here? I don’t think I’ve seen you guys since his father’s funeral.’

Realising that it had indeed been that long, Andee said, ‘He couldn’t make it this evening, but I know he’d love to see you if you’re going to be around for a while.’ She was searching for signs of the ill health she’d heard about, and finding them well hidden in the slight grey pallor of his skin and unusual dullness of his eyes.