The Real Katie Lavender (33 page)

Naturally Dad didn’t agree. He claimed that trust was the bedrock of Nightingale Ridgeway, that it always had been so and always would be. Yeah, well, tell that to the clients who’d had their money stolen. Tell that to the CPS when the case finally went to court. Worried that Dad wasn’t his usual clear-thinking self, Rosco had started working even longer hours and was trying to instil a greater sense of diligence and efficiency in the office. Lead by example was his motto.

So with a weekend of efficient organization behind him, Rosco had planned that today he would be free to do exactly as he pleased, which was a pleasantly lazy day followed by dinner with a girl he’d recently met at a friend’s thirtieth birthday party.

Except his lazy day wasn’t turning out that way. His well-earned lie-in had been disturbed by Scarlet ringing him. For twenty minutes he’d been forced to listen to her histrionics about Dad and Katie Lavender. ‘How can we be sure she really is who she says she is?’ Scarlet was now asking. ‘I mean, she’s got red hair.
Red
. No one in our family has red hair. Has anyone thought to check her out? She could be someone pretending to be his daughter. What are we going to do about it? Rosco, are you listening to me?’

‘Scarlet,’ he said, when finally given permission to speak, ‘don’t be a dope. The red hair is from Granza. Although strictly speaking the colour in question isn’t red, it’s chestnut.’

‘So you’re not questioning who she is? I can’t believe that. And I can’t believe you’re quibbling over the colour of her hair. My God, next you’ll be saying that you thought she was quite nice. Do you think she’s nice?’

‘Don’t be stupid, of course I don’t.’

‘Then what are we going to do about her?’

‘We’re going to ignore her. That’s what we’re going to do. We’ve done our duty; we met her just as Dad wanted. We don’t have to do anything more.’

‘I told Mum to give him an ultimatum, to tell him he has to choose us or her. I told her to tell him that if he has anything more to do with her, he can say goodbye to us.’

‘Did you now?’ This had been Rosco’s Plan A when divorce had been in the air, but he’d been reluctant to go through with it in case it backfired on him. But with the initiative coming from Scarlet, it meant he was removed from the equation; he could be seen as the objective one. He would be there to give Dad his support and to say that as hard as it was, he was doing the right thing. He would tell his father that Katie had managed well enough all these years without him; she could manage the rest of her life equally well. It was as simple as that. Faced with such a convincing bottom line, Dad would see things perfectly clearly.

The only way to get Scarlet off the phone was to play on her pregnancy. ‘Now stop worrying about all this, Scarlet,’ he said. ‘You know it can’t be good for the baby. Go and make yourself a cup of coffee and put your feet up and relax.’

She tutted. ‘You know I’m not drinking coffee whilst I’m pregnant. Honestly, Rosco, sometimes I don’t think you listen to a word I say.’

If only that were possible, he thought when he at last got rid of her.

Now, showered and dressed, and putting the finishing touches to his breakfast of scrambled eggs on a toasted and buttered bagel, he heard the phone ring again. He knew straight away from the tone of his mother’s voice that there was no way he could ask if he could ring her back when he’d eaten.

He set his plate down on the breakfast bar, and with the phone placed on speaker, resigned himself to a ruined day. It seemed to him, as his mother went on and on about how awful Dad was making her life, that she had turned into exactly the kind of neurotic and needy woman he couldn’t abide. Whilst trying silently to eat a mouthful of bagel and egg, he listened to a repeat version of the ultimatum Dad had been given yesterday, and how he had disappeared for the day, and how everyone at The Meadows had been asking why he wasn’t there to help as arranged. ‘Where had he been?’ Rosco asked when there was a lull in the monologue and a response seemed to be expected of him. ‘Off in the boat somewhere?’

‘No. He was at the office all day. He said he’d gone there to do some work and to clear his head. He said he needed to be alone. For pity’s sake, who does he think he is, saying he needs to be alone?’

Rosco’s attention was caught. ‘He told you he was at the office all day?’

‘That’s what I just said.’

Rosco was about to say this wasn’t possible when he stopped himself. He knew categorically that there had been only one person in the office yesterday, and that was him – that was where he’d gone to check on the client portfolios. So why had Dad lied? Where had he been that he wanted to keep it from Mum? What reason would he have to hide something like that? Or maybe it wasn’t the actual place he was being so secretive about, but a person. Had he been with someone he didn’t want Mum to know about? But who?

An awful thought occurred to him. A woman. It was a woman Dad had been with. It was the only explanation.

But how could he? With everything the family was going through, how could he do something so low and shabby? Was it a case of once a cheat, always a cheat? Or maybe he had been having a string of affairs throughout his entire marriage. And that was why he was so sympathetic to what Uncle Neil had been up to. God knew how many more bastard children were going to come out of the woodwork at this rate!

He decided to keep his suspicions to himself. There was no point in winding his mother up yet further. Better for him to tackle Dad on his own. When the time was right.

‘Where’s Dad today?’ he asked.

‘Back at The Meadows helping Pen. With that wretched girl again,’ she added bitterly.

‘And how do things stand regarding the ultimatum you gave him?’

‘He says he needs time to think about it. Can you believe that? What is there to think about, Rosco?’

‘He’ll do the right thing, Mum. Don’t worry. He’s all over the place right now.’

‘Can’t you talk to him? Can’t you make him see reason?’ The tone of her voice had changed; she sounded tired and whiny. ‘I don’t know, ever since Neil’s death, everything’s gone wrong.’

‘I’ll do my best. Leave it with me.’

A few minutes later and he managed to ring off. He took a bite of his half-eaten breakfast and found it was stone cold. Thoroughly out of sorts, he took it over to the bin and threw it away.

Stirling wasn’t sure that he had done the right thing. He had texted Simone, feeling in some way that he ought to. He really didn’t want her to think badly of him. That he was the kind of man who was in the habit of turning up on a woman’s doorstep – a woman he hardly knew – and behaving in the way he had yesterday.

He had sent the message before lunch, and now, at five o’clock, as he was closing the gate – the last of the visitors gone – Simone still hadn’t replied to his message. Had she felt insulted by his thanking her for lunch and for asking how she was today? It hadn’t felt glib at the time, but with hindsight perhaps it was. He hadn’t known what else to say. What could he have said? An apology? Would she have expected that from him? Had it also been too distant and formal to thank her for lunch? The more he thought about it, the worse it became in his mind. He was beginning to think that he should text her again to make sure he hadn’t offended her with that first text. But would a second message make things worse? Would she think he was becoming a pest, thereby making a nonsense of his assurance that he wouldn’t be a nuisance to her? Would she worry that he was trying to invite himself back for a repeat of yesterday? Which he certainly wasn’t. But just thinking of that possibility made his pulse quicken. Shocked, he dragged a hand over his face, and picking up the plastic box of entrance money, walked quickly round to the back of the house. He suddenly needed to be amongst people. He needed the distraction of them.

He spotted Katie and Lloyd inside the pavilion. They were busy stacking dirty crockery on to trays.

Throughout the day they had given no obvious signs that there was anything going on between them, but there were plenty of subtle indications and undercurrents, if you knew what to look for. Stirling had most definitely noticed the occasional look or smile, or Lloyd’s lingering hand on Katie’s shoulder as he moved to get past her. He’d also caught Katie blushing as Lloyd whispered something in her ear. For whatever reason, they had decided to keep to themselves what they were up to.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, though. To his surprise, deep inside him, some primal instinct was uncoiling itself: Katie was his daughter, and as her father he wanted to keep her safe, which meant no man was to be trusted. He had been the same with Scarlet. How he’d ever survived those nightmarish years and the fast turnaround of unsuitable boys with whom Scarlet had proclaimed herself to be in love, he didn’t know. The most memorable duds had been a would-be rock star who hadn’t possessed one iota of musical know-how, a long-haired dropout who’d claimed to be a conceptual artist and destined to be the next big thing in the art world, a Greek waiter who had wanted to marry her after only a fortnight of knowing her, and a thug who’d spent time in prison for GBH, a case of mistaken identity apparently. But the very worst of the bunch had been a man fifteen years older than Scarlet who had wanted to take off with her to Thailand with nothing but a couple of backpacks. Oh, and Scarlet’s credit cards. After some surreptitious digging, Stirling had discovered that the man was married with two small children. And then along had come Charlie Boy, and whilst he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, in comparison to his predecessors he had been the model boyfriend. Within no time he had achieved the impossible; he had anchored the flighty Scarlet, and for that Stirling would always be grateful. But make no mistake: if he hurt her, there would be hell to pay.

As there would be if Lloyd hurt Katie. Just articulating the thought amazed Stirling. He and Katie had had no real time or opportunity to bond and form what would be called a meaningful relationship, but nonetheless, the instinct to protect her was there. It was why he knew he couldn’t do what Gina wanted of him; he couldn’t cast Katie aside. However that bond was made, it existed. It was very real.

He stepped into the pavilion and at once Lloyd and Katie fell quiet, their animated conversation abruptly brought to an end. They both smiled at him. A little too eagerly. A little too like he’d interrupted them. That, and the way Lloyd was staring at Stirling, told him that there was definitely something going on between the two of them. In Lloyd’s eyes there was the same unmistakable solicitous and circumspect look he’d seen in so many of Scarlet’s suitors. Whether he knew he was doing it or not, Lloyd was seeking Stirling’s approval.

‘Katie,’ Stirling said, ‘are you doing anything this evening?’

‘I don’t have anything planned,’ she said with a smile.

‘In that case, can we spend the evening together? Just the two of us? Only we’ve hardly had any time alone, and you leave tomorrow.’ He glanced at his nephew. ‘That’s if you don’t mind, Lloyd?’

Lloyd pushed his hands into his pockets and took a step back. ‘Of course not. Don’t worry about me.’

But I do, Stirling thought. I worry about Katie as well. And the whole bloody family and what lies ahead.

‘So you’ll be heading back to Brighton tomorrow?’ Tess said.

‘That’s the plan.’

‘You’re not tempted to stay on for a bit longer?’

‘No.’ Katie tried to put as much conviction as she could into that one simple word. It would be all too easy for her to give in to Lloyd and Pen and Cecily, who kept asking her to stay on for a few more days.

‘Really?’ said Tess. ‘What have you got to rush back for?’

‘Don’t you start. I’ve had enough of that from everyone here.’

‘What’s the hurry, then?’

‘It’s difficult to explain, and you’ll probably think I’m going all airy-fairy, but this place has a sort of magical and intoxicating pull to it. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I felt it when I first stayed here. I remember looking out of the window at Pen’s incredible garden and thinking that if I didn’t leave that day, I might never leave.’

‘Isn’t that how everyone feels at the end of a really good holiday?’

‘I suppose so. But imagine your best ever holiday experience and times it by a hundred. It’s just so beautiful here. And weirdly, I feel so at home.’

‘Sounds like the place has seduced you as much as that cousin of yours.’

‘He’s not my cousin.’

‘Sorry, slip of the genealogical tongue. What is he, then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m asking if he’s officially your new boyfriend now. Has that been established?’

‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say anything’s official.’ Katie glanced at her watch; seeing how late it was, she said, ‘Hey, look, I’m going to have to go. Stirling’s taking me out this evening and I’ve got to smarten myself up.’

‘Oh, so the absent father’s returned, has he? I hope he’s taking you somewhere nice. And tell him from me, I’m on his case. He doesn’t get my approval until he’s been properly vetted.’

Katie laughed. ‘He probably knew that and that’s why he disappeared yesterday. I’ll ring you tomorrow when I’m back in Brighton. Say hi to Ben from me. By the way, what did he think of Lloyd?’

‘He thought he was great. And way better than Ian. You really crossed over to the dark side with him.’

‘I had no idea you all disliked Ian so much. Why weren’t you honest with me?’

‘As Zac told you yesterday, you weren’t receptive to honesty then. And perhaps we were scared to give it to you.’

‘And now you’re not?’

‘Now we’ve seen the error of our ways. Total truthfulness from now on.’

Katie ended the call and got off the bed, where she’d been lying whilst chatting to her friend. She went and stood at the window, looking out at the area of the garden where she had first met Pen, after she had stepped through that small arched doorway with the sign reading ‘Open Me’ on it, and which would forever be her favourite part of this enchanting world. She watched Pen wandering the trampled lawns, inspecting the damage inflicted by so many visitors. The poor woman looked a tired and forlorn figure.