The Real Katie Lavender (23 page)

As for Ian, he had been devastated when she’d invited him for dinner and broken it to him that she thought it would be better if they didn’t see each other any more. She had assumed he would have seen it coming, that it wouldn’t have been a big shock. He hadn’t, though. ‘But we haven’t spoken for almost a fortnight,’ she’d reasoned. ‘Surely you must have thought that was a bad sign?’

‘I was giving you your space,’ he’d said. ‘I didn’t want to crowd you.’ He’d looked like a wounded puppy, and she’d hated herself for hurting him. ‘Please, I know it’s been a difficult time for you,’ he’d continued, ‘and you’re probably feeling really confused about everything, but we’ve been good together, haven’t we?’

She was confused about a lot of things, but the one thing she saw with great clarity was that she couldn’t be with Ian any longer. ‘Cruel to be kind,’ both Tess and Zac had told her. ‘End it properly. No ambiguity.’

But they weren’t the ones staring into the face of a wounded puppy. ‘Ian,’ she’d said, ‘I’ll always be grateful to you. You were wonderful to me when my mother died—’

‘No!’ he’d said, his voice raised to an embarrassing pitch. ‘I don’t want your gratitude. I want
you
. I want the Katie I knew before you found out about your father. You’ve been different ever since.’

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have changed. So if that’s true, wouldn’t you be better off finding someone new?’

She’d willed him to accept it was over between them, not to make it any more difficult than it already was. He’d shaken his head and said, ‘Did you ever really love me, or was I just a convenient shoulder for you? And be honest with me. Don’t lie.’

But she had lied. ‘I loved you, Ian. I really did.’

‘But you don’t now.’

‘No.’

‘Do you know why? Was it something I did? Or something I didn’t do?’

Just go, she’d wanted to say. Stop making this so difficult. But she supposed he was driven by his analytical brain searching for some logical reason for why they were breaking up. ‘It wasn’t anything you said or did, Ian,’ she said. ‘We just ran our course. It happens. And often for no particular reason, other than a thing has come to a natural end. Unfortunately relationships aren’t based on logic. If they were, they would be a lot easier to get right.’

He’d stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language, and then had left a few minutes later. She had tried to give him a no-hard-feelings hug at the door and suggest that they stay in touch as friends, but he’d shrugged her off and said he’d collect his things the next day. He’d be grateful if she could bag them up ready for him.

She had hurt him badly, and that upset her.

A ring at the doorbell instantly put Ian out of her mind. She took a deep breath and went to open the door.

Katie could hear Cecily talking, and she was vaguely aware of gabbling back a reply, something inane about the journey, but she was having what Tess called a shocky moment. A shocky moment was when you saw someone or something that made your spine tingle and you suddenly wanted to dance and laugh and cry all at the same time. It had happened to Tess when she’d met Ben.

But it shouldn’t be happening to Katie in her tiny hallway. Hell no! Lloyd was her cousin. But he was so cute. Tall and exceptionally well built, with strong, clear-cut features, he was dressed in jeans with a navy-blue T-shirt and a black well-worn leather jacket. Loaded with just the right amount of nonchalance – any more and it would look forced – his hands were pushed into the pockets of his jeans, causing his shoulders to hunch slightly. The ends of his brown collar-length hair were lightened by the sun and his eyes were blue – intensely blue, for the record. Normally she didn’t go for blue eyes. Not her thing. But in this instance she was prepared to make an exception.

Except he was her cousin, she reminded herself. Cousin, cousin,
cousin
! But man o man, he’d got the look perfectly tuned. He was Captain Divine from Planet Awesome.

She realized that he was speaking and holding out his hand towards her. ‘Hello, Cousin Katie,’ he said.

She had to think what to do. She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. ‘Er . . . hello, Cousin Lloyd,’ she said, taking his lead and his hand, the palm of which she had sufficient wits to note was warm and rough and callused. She remembered Cecily mentioning something about him making upmarket garden furniture for a living.

Letting go of her hand, he looked about him, particularly, for some weird reason, up at the ceiling. ‘Good work with the cobwebs,’ he said. ‘Not a one to be seen.’

Her face prickled and she gave a nervous, unconvincing laugh.

‘Lloyd, whatever are you talking about?’ This was from Cecily.

‘A small joke,’ he said, ‘and perhaps not a very funny one.’

‘I should think it isn’t. Now why don’t you see if you left your manners in the car along with the hamper?’

He smiled, clicked his heels together and made a salute. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Cecily gave him an airy wave of her hand, ‘Tiresome boy, be off with you.’ There was affection in her voice. ‘Katie, darling, it’s such a beautiful day, shall we go and sit outside in the garden?’

Composing herself, Katie said, ‘Please don’t expect too much, it’s only small.’

‘Bigger than my balcony, I’ll wager. Lead on, lead on! Ooh, it’s perfectly charming. What a clever girl you are to keep it looking so nice.’

‘That’s what comes of having too much time on one’s hands.’

‘Still no job?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ she replied whilst offering Cecily the most comfortable chair, in the shade of the magnolia tree.

‘Something will turn up before too long, just you see.’ Cecily took her time to get settled into the seat, first removing her silk scarf and lightweight coat and passing them to Katie, then placing her handbag neatly beside her well-shod feet.

‘I certainly hope so,’ Katie said with feeling.

‘Perhaps you’re not looking in the right direction. Ah, Lloyd, there you are. Isn’t Katie’s garden lovely? One of your benches would be right at home here, don’t you agree?’

He cast his gaze around the small space and nodded. ‘Green fingers like Cecily and my mother,’ he said. Then, looking directly at Katie, he added, ‘That must be why they’ve spoken so highly of you.’

‘With or without the green fingers, Pen and I would have taken to Katie,’ Cecily said curtly. ‘Now then, are you going to stand there all day with that hamper, Lloyd, or are you going to do something useful with it?’

He smiled. ‘Having given the matter my full consideration, I think I’ll just stand here and annoy you all day, Granza.’

She laughed. ‘And what a fine job you’re doing of that already.’

‘Years of experience, that’s what makes me the expert I am.’ He placed the hamper on the table, undid the straps and lifted the lid. ‘Lunch care of Cecily Nightingale,’ he announced. He turned to Katie. ‘You haven’t spent the morning cooking for us, have you?’

‘No,’ Katie answered with a wry smile. ‘The cobwebs took up all of my time. I planned to take you out somewhere for lunch.’

‘Then unplan that arrangement right away,’ Cecily said, ‘and we’ll have a picnic here in the garden. What could be better? And will one of you kindly tell me what all this nonsense is about cobwebs?’

Just about everything Stirling did these days, he imagined how it would look through the eyes of a journalist intent on causing trouble. An innocent trip on the river in his boat could be made to look like the actions of a man flaunting his wealth with a couldn’t-give-a-shit attitude. The caption would read,
While others bear the brunt of his brother’s deception and greed, Stirling Nightingale sails blithely on
. To ensure there was no danger of that happening, he hadn’t been out in his treasured slipper launch in over a month. Nor had he driven his Aston Martin at his usual lick in case he was caught for speeding and it was turned into a newsworthy misdemeanour. He felt he had to watch his every step, not just for his family’s reputation but for Nightingale Ridgeway’s reputation; for its very survival.

Since Neil’s funeral, they had lost nearly a dozen clients, including one of their biggest investors. Stirling had written to every single client, from the biggest to the smallest, assuring them that something like this could never happen again, that procedures had been put in place. He also informed them that all the missing monies had been recovered and that he’d personally refunded what had been taken from the portfolios. It seemed to have stemmed the flow of haemorrhaging clients, and he could only hope it would continue to do so. Perhaps those who hadn’t left were taking the view that lightning wouldn’t strike twice in the same place.

Even the state of his marriage had found its way into the newspapers. God knew how. But since it had rapidly become common knowledge that he had moved out of Willow Bank – you couldn’t keep something like that secret in a small place like Sandiford – it was probably someone in the village who had been coerced by some hack or other into divulging the titbit that he was staying with his brother’s widow. He really would have thought that journalists had more important things to write about. But then it was the summer; it was open season for superficial news stories. Which was why he was keeping his distance from Katie for the time being. He badly wanted to see her again, but he didn’t want to risk compounding the situation.

Gina and Rosco and Scarlet had said some hurtful things about Katie. He could understand their anger and in particular Gina’s sense of betrayal, and he could tolerate them venting their feelings towards him, but what he couldn’t do was stand by and listen to any attacks made on Katie. Sadly his defence of her had only further enraged them. Thank God he hadn’t said anything about the trust fund he’d set up all those years ago; that would certainly add fuel to the fire. For now, that had to remain a secret between him and Katie and Cecily.

He put down the glass of water he’d ordered and looked at his watch: still five minutes to go. He’d got here early, ostensibly so that he could make sure he hadn’t been followed – he was beginning to feel he was a character in a spy novel – but mainly so that he would have time to gather his thoughts. He had believed this to be a good idea last night; now he wasn’t so sure. Could she really tell him anything he didn’t know already?

What more was there to add to what they now assumed to be the case, that Neil had taken the money because, like Stirling, he’d been facing a sharp and sudden drop in income for the foreseeable future due to the continuing downshift in the economy? For Stirling it wasn’t a serious problem, not being able to pay himself the usual dividend, but for Neil, planning to start a new life with Simone and at that time provide generously for Pen, it must have been a disaster. Impatient to be with Simone, had he looked at his client portfolios and thought he could simply borrow from them during the difficult period and then return the money when times were good again? Stirling wanted to believe that his brother fully intended to pay back the money, but he couldn’t be sure of it.

One thing he was sure of, based on what had since come to light, was the client who Rosco had overheard talking with his accountant that day at the tennis club had been in touch with Neil regarding a query about a discrepancy in his investments. It was that phone call, Stirling now believed, that made Neil realize he was about to be found out and which led him to take his life several days later.

He glanced nervously round the dining area of the Old Parsonage. He hadn’t been to the hotel here in Oxford in a long time; nothing seemed to have changed in the intervening years. To his relief, there didn’t seem to be anyone remotely interested in him, overtly or otherwise. The other diners comprised a mix of well-dressed couples and American tourists, all engrossed in their own conversations and meals.

He returned his attention to his newspaper. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to read the same article on the front page, not a word of which he had taken in. He forced himself to concentrate, determined this time to master it.

He’d read for no more than a minute or two when he heard a softly pitched woman’s voice saying his name. He looked up, straight into the face of Simone Montrose. He got to his feet. After a moment’s hesitation, they shook hands. He pulled out a chair for her.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

He sat down again and swallowed. He cleared his throat. ‘Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?’

‘Very awkward. I nearly didn’t come.’ She gave a tremulous smile. ‘You’re quite like him, you know.’

‘People often used to say that, they called it our simpatico mindset. Which wouldn’t be at all remarkable for blood-related brothers, but since Neil was adopted, the similarity was all the more incredible. My mother says it’s what happens when people spend a lot of time together: they mirror each other’s mannerisms and speech patterns. The body language merges.’

‘But perhaps only if the bond is a strong one; if there’s real affection between two people. You and Neil were extremely close, weren’t you? He was always talking about you. You were hugely important to him.’

From nowhere, a wave of unbearable grief swept over Stirling. Lately the pain had lessened; it had become submerged beneath a layer of something else: anger. He was angry that Neil hadn’t confided in him. Angry that he had not been honest with the one person in the world with whom he should have been totally honest. But sitting here with Simone Montrose, the woman who had been such a closely guarded secret in Neil’s life, and hearing her talk about Neil, her voice low and full of sadness, his anger was stripped away to expose his grief in all its painful purity once more. To steady himself, he tidied his newspaper away and reached for a menu. ‘Shall we choose and then order?’

They neither spent long deliberating over what to eat or drink, and with their food quickly ordered, along with a glass of wine, Simone was the first to resume the conversation. ‘How’s Neil’s widow?’ she asked.

‘Coping.’

‘Does she know that you’re here in Oxford, that you wanted to see me?’