Chapter 38
I blinked as Stewart’s car pulled up in a country lane somewhere outside Halifax.
‘This is where he lives?’
‘Yep. My Aunty Sonia bought it before she died. Daft, isn’t it?’
I gazed up at the huge white mansion that was apparently Harper Brady’s humble home. There were at least eight bedrooms, three floors… one resident.
‘What does he do with the space?’
‘Fills it with expensive rubbish, these days. When we were kids we used to play football down the corridors.’
He got out of the car and pressed the intercom by the spiky iron gate.
‘Harper, it’s me. Can you let us in?’
‘Us? Who’d you bring, Stew?’
‘Lana. She wants a word.’
There was a buzz, and the gates swung open. Stewart drove us up to the front door and parked next to a couple of Ferraris.
A couple of Ferraris. I mean, bloody hell.
Harper was waiting on the step. He beamed when he saw me.
‘Hi, Lana. Thought I might be hearing from you.’
I shook my head at the pillared front of his tacky house. ‘Nice place. What’s it called, Dunsqueezin?’
Stewart laughed. Harper just looked puzzled.
‘No. Arncliffe House.’ He nodded to the door. ‘You coming in then? I’m assuming you got my present.’
‘Yeah, we got it,’ I said as I followed him in. ‘What’re you playing at, Harper? You know we can’t take that.’
‘Course you can. This way.’
He ushered us into a large white-walled room, where a glass of something fizzy was sitting on a white coffee table next to what looked like a script.
‘Just learning some lines,’ he said. ‘Champagne?’
I cocked an eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’
‘Er, yeah. There’s a bottle open in the fridge.’
‘I’ll take a tea, thanks.’
‘All right.’ He turned to his cousin. ‘Can you do it, Stew?’
‘I’m not running round after you, Harper. You’re the host, you make the tea.’
‘Go on, please. There’s something personal I need to discuss with Lana.’
‘Hmm.’ Stewart cast him a suspicious look. ‘Well, ok. Don’t touch her up.’
‘Take your time,’ Harper called as Stew left the room.
He took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. I ignored him and parked myself in the seat opposite.
‘How much of that stuff do you drink?’ I said, nodding to the champagne.
‘Not much. Four or five bottles a week.’
‘Sounds expensive.’
He shrugged. ‘I can afford it.’
‘I’d noticed,’ I said dryly. ‘So come on, Harper, what was that money all about? If you think you can buy me, you’re going to find not everything in your life’s for sale.’
‘It’s not that.’ His eyes had latched on to my chest again. He seemed to have a real problem looking away from that whole area whenever we were together. ‘I mean, I do really like you, but that’s not why I sent the money. I knew that wouldn’t impress you.’
‘Then why?’
‘Dunno, it was weird,’ he explained to my boobs. ‘I saw you on TV, and that woman was such a bitch about your dad, and it… it made me feel sorry for you, I guess.’
I stared at him. ‘What, you’ve discovered empathy?’
‘I didn’t like seeing you upset. Then when Stew told me what’d happened with your grant, I felt like I wanted to fix it. And I could, so… I did.’
‘Because you want a feel of my boobs, right?’
‘God, yes. I’d love a feel of your boobs.’ With an effort he dragged his gaze to my face. ‘I mean, academically speaking. That’s nothing to do with the money. I just wanted you to stop crying. If anyone had said that stuff about my mum…’ His brow knit into a frown. ‘It’s not fair you should lose your grant over a stupid thing like that.’
‘That’s… um, wow,’ I said, blinking with surprise. ‘Thank you.’
He patted the sofa. ‘Will you sit by me now, babe?’
‘Please don’t call me that.’
‘Sorry. Lana.’
‘All right. Strictly platonic, mind.’ I went to sit next to him. ‘And try not to keep staring at my breasts, will you? It’s unnerving.’
He grinned. ‘I’m making no promises. So you’ll take the money?’
‘You know I can’t. It’s 25 grand, Harper. I appreciate the gesture, but you shouldn’t be chucking that kind of money around just to cheer people up.’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? Twenty-five grand isn’t much.’
‘Are you kidding? That’s more than I earn in a year, mate!’
His eyes widened. ‘Shit, really? How do you live?’
‘Oh, you know, a few cuts here and there. Had to get rid of my eight-bedroom mansion and five-bottle-a-week Bolly habit, but it’s amazing how you adjust.’
He shot me a puzzled smile. ‘Was that a joke?’
‘Yes, it was a joke,’ I said, smiling back. ‘You get used to the sarcasm when you’ve known me a while.’
‘Please keep the money, Lana. It’s not just for you. It’s for Stew as well.’
I frowned. ‘Stew? Why do you want to give him money?’
‘Because he’s entitled to it. Mum would’ve left him some, but she died thingy – intestate. She was only 38, probably never occurred to her to make a will. The whole lot went to me.’
‘What other relatives have you got?’
‘None close. Just Mum’s sister, Aunty Heather – that’s Stew’s mum. I tried to fix it when I got a bit older, but his parents are sort of proud. Wouldn’t take a penny.’
I remembered Stewart’s boast that he’d never asked Harper for money. For all his laid-back attitude to life, I knew he could be a stubborn bugger when he thought he was in the right.
‘But he’s always nagging me to do stuff for charity,’ Harper said. ‘And here’s something he cares about. It’s not like I’ll miss the money.’
‘Can you stop saying stuff like that? I feel like a Dickensian street urchin next to you.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling. ‘You don’t hate me too much, do you?’
‘No. Not now.’
‘Ha! Knew I could get you to like me.’
I shook my head. ‘I thought you were such a brat when I met you, but you’re actually… you really are fond of your cousin, aren’t you?’
‘Course. He’s the best friend I’ve got. And somehow I appreciate him more, these days.’ He took my hand in both his, looking earnestly into my face. ‘I meet a lot of phoney people in my line of work, Lana. Stew’s about the only person I trust. And you.’
I laughed. ‘You’ve only met me a few times.’
‘Yep. And you’ve insulted me every time,’ he said with a grin. ‘That’s why I trust you. I’m sick to death of flattery.’
‘That’s… sweet. Thanks, Harper.’
‘Friends then?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Up here, mate.’
‘Oh. Sorry,’ he said, pulling his gaze away from my chest. It’d drifted down again.
‘Yes. I think we’re friends.’
‘And you’ll keep the money? I’ll be very offended if you try to give it back.’
I hesitated. ‘Is it really about Stew?’
‘No. It’s about both of you. Your daft viaduct as well. I guess if you both care about it then it must be important.’ He smiled. ‘Come on, this might be the first thing I’ve done for someone else my whole life. Don’t screw it up for me, eh?’
‘I think… we’ll take it,’ I said at last. ‘Here. Since we’re friends you can have a hug. Mind the boobs though.’ I chucked my arms around him and gave him a squeeze.
‘Thanks very much. I like them where I can feel them.’ He raised his voice. ‘Stew! You can come back now. I’m just getting off with your girl.’
‘No change there then.’ Stew came back in with a couple of very tasteful mugs, steaming with what was probably expensive, posh-sounding tea. He dumped them on the coffee table. ‘You’ve been taking girls off me since you were 16.’
‘Well, now you can get your own back and take this one off me,’ Harper said, letting me go. ‘From what I’ve seen I don’t think she’ll object.’
God, even Harper Brady, the world’s most unobservant man, was making with the me-and-Stew teasing. This was getting embarrassing.
‘Are we sorted then, Lana?’ Stew said.
‘Yes.’ I smiled at Harper. ‘I think we’re on the same wavelength.’
‘And are we… what about the viaduct?’
‘Lana’s happy to keep the money if you are,’ Harper said. ‘And I told her you are because I’m the oldest.’ His eyes fell on the mugs of tea. ‘For Christ’s sake, Stew, coasters! That table cost two grand.’ He grabbed a couple and slid them underneath.
Stewart shook his head. ‘Have you been bodysnatched or something? You’re being weirdly nice lately.’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh! I know. This is research for a role as a wealthy philanthropist, right?’
Harper smiled. ‘Not that either.
‘Flying champagne cork to the head?’
‘Maybe I’m just growing up, Stew.’
‘Yeah. You are 28 though.’
‘According to my Equity card I’m 26, so you can keep your bloody mouth shut,’ Harper said. ‘Go on, get out: I know you don’t really want my Lapsang Souchong. Go tell your little viaduct buddies the good news. I’ve got to finish learning these lines for tomorrow.’
I leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek.
‘Thanks, Harper. You’re a good man.’
‘We won’t forget this,’ Stewart said, shaking his cousin’s hand vigorously.
We left, abandoning the fancy stinky tea steaming on its coasters.