Chapter Twenty-Three
I handed them both a bag of sweets, bought from the train station, and they took them hesitantly. Opening the bags, they peered suspiciously at the contents, as if I'd handed them a pistol and a round of ammunition.
"Is it okay, Mummy?" Robyn sounded doubtful.
Tamsin glanced at the rear-view mirror and frowned. "Oh, what the hell. Just this once," she said, causing her daughters to whoop with delight and pounce on the sweets like they were Fagin's orphans, normally fed on mouldy sausages.
"I think we're in for a bumpy ride," I said. "And I don't mean the road to Beverley. Mum sounded distraught. First, I leave Seth, then Brad—" I lowered my voice and murmured, "Brad leaves you, and now Redmond's gone all weird. He must be having a mid-life crisis, or something."
"Come to his senses, more like," Tamsin said. "You should see the comments Susan's put on Facebook. She's absolutely scathing about him, and of course, all her friends and cronies are crooning about what a little shit he is, and how she deserves so much better. Rubbish. She's brought it all on herself." She looked stricken. "Oh, God! Do you think that's what people are saying about me?"
"Of course not," I reassured her. "Besides, you never put anything bad about Brad on Facebook. You've never even mentioned the break-up."
She shuddered. "I don't want anything negative getting back to the girls. Not that I haven't thought it. If Susan thinks Redmond's a shit, she should think about what Brad's put me through." She eyed the girls in the mirror again, obviously checking that they hadn't heard anything they shouldn't, before she asked, "Did you have any trouble getting time off at such short notice?"
I shook my head. "No. Ethan was very understanding."
He had been, too—eventually. When I'd knocked on his bedroom door later the previous evening, he must’ve thought all his Christmases had come at once, judging by the light of surprise and delight in his eyes. That’d quickly dampened down, when I explained I'd come to ask if I could take a few days' holiday.
"You don't have to pay me," I'd added hastily. "I do realise I'm leaving you in the lurch a little, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it necessary."
He'd put his hands on my shoulders, fixing me with a serious gaze. "Cara, is this about what happened this afternoon? I thought—I mean, I believed that you—I didn't take advantage of you?"
In spite of my resolve, I felt myself weakening as I looked into his eyes and saw the concern there. "No," I heard myself say. "It's honestly because there are family problems at the moment, and Mum and Dad have asked us all to go home and spend a day, or two, with them, to try to sort things out."
"And you didn't feel … compromised?"
I laughed. "The way you speak! You're such a gentleman."
"I wasn't much of a gentleman this afternoon," he reminded me ruefully. "And I have to admit, I had distinctly ungentlemanly thoughts when you knocked on my bedroom door just now."
He held my gaze, and I saw the gleam in his eye and knew I could crumble so easily. How lovely would it be to just give in? To lose myself in his arms, pretend that things could work out, that if I would just surrender, there could be a real chance of a happy ending? Deep down, I knew that to give in to my highly inconvenient feelings would only bring heartbreak, and I had to force myself to remember that.
"I'd better go and pack," I mumbled, turning my head away from the disappointment in his face.
"You're leaving so soon?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Let me drive you there. Or, if you'd prefer, I could ask Michael?"
"There's really no need," I said hastily. "My sister's picking me up from York train station. It's all arranged."
As I turned to leave, his voice came behind me, sounding rough as he asked, "How long will you be gone?"
"Oh, a day, or two," I said airily.
"I'll expect you back, then."
I glanced round, swallowing when I recognised the look in his eyes, his effort at trying to look business-like while failing dismally.
"A couple of days at the most,” he said. “Adele will need you."
"I know," I said, even though I wasn't sure how long I'd be away. I just wanted to escape before I could throw caution to the wind and ruin my life forever. "Thank you for being so understanding. Goodnight, Ethan."
"Goodnight, Cara."
I hurried back to my room, but feeling a sudden prickling on the back of my neck again as I crossed the landing, I spun round. There was no one there, and Ethan's door remained shut. I stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths. I felt uneasy as goose-pimples broke out on my skin, and I rubbed my arms, wondering what had caused the sudden sensation of being watched, then I tutted. My imagination was running riot. I was overwrought, and no wonder, with everything that had happened lately.
Turning away, I entered my bedroom, determined to pack my things and get an early night.
Mrs F was the only person up and about when I left Moreland Hall the following morning, and she was shocked to see me leaving so early. "We thought it would be mid-morning. Ethan will want to know ..."
"My taxi's outside," I said quickly. "I can't keep it waiting. Catching the first train to York, Mrs F." I'd given her a brief hug, assured her I'd be back before she knew it, and asked her to give Adele a big kiss for me.
Her eyes were surprisingly bright as she said goodbye. "You will take care, won't you? Look after yourself. You know, I'm always at the other end of the phone, if you need to talk to anyone."
I hadn't a clue why she seemed so concerned. I was only going home to my parents' house, for goodness sake, but I nodded reassuringly and promised I'd bear that in mind. I'd climbed thankfully into the taxi and challenged myself not to look round as it sped down the drive, putting Moreland Hall behind me in a matter of moments—at least, in the physical sense.
"Get you!" Tamsin's voice broke into my thoughts, and I blinked.
"Sorry? What?"
"Ethan! Whatever happened to calling him Mr Rochester?" She grinned. "Only kidding." Then her smile faded. "Hey, what are you looking at me like that for? Oh, my God!" Her eyes widened with excitement. "Cara Truelove! Are you shagging the boss?"
My face flamed, and I groped desperately for some answer that would appease her. To my relief, she burst out laughing, and I realised she was joking. Clearly, it didn't occur to Tamsin that Ethan Rochester would ever look twice at someone like me, and who could blame her?
#
As we got closer to Mum and Dad's house, I could sense the change in her mood. She was obviously gearing herself up for a fight.
"You don't have to worry," I whispered to her. "I'm sure everything will be fine."
"It's so unfair. Why am I even being summoned here? It's as if they think it's all my fault. I'll get the blame, you just wait and see. Brad was such a suck-up. Mum thought he was wonderful because he worked so hard and provided so well for us. As if that's all that matters!"
"No, but it helps." I thought about Seth. How was he getting on? Had he moved into Isolde's? Had he found himself a job? It seemed terribly unlikely, but if he wanted any financial help from the state, he would have to, at least, look for a position somewhere. Who would employ him, though? He didn't have the first clue how to do anything.
Not your problem, Cara, I reminded myself. I had enough to worry about.
We were soon negotiating the narrow roads of central Beverley, turning, with some trepidation, into Mum and Dad's street. Tamsin parked on the drive of our childhood home, just behind Dad's Volvo estate, which had to live outside permanently, as the garage was too full of the junk that had been accumulated over thirty-seven years of marriage.
Tamsin and I glanced at each other. She took a deep breath. "Here we go, then."
Mum ushered us into the spacious, nineteen-thirties semi-detached house. She looked tanned and healthy, her hair blonder—the streaks put in by the hairdresser lightened even further by the Mediterranean sun. Dad came forward to hug us, and as I pulled away from him, I studied him carefully.
"Oh, you look miles better," I said, relieved. The gaunt look had gone. He'd filled out again. The weeks in the sunshine had obviously done him the world of good.
He beamed at us. "I feel better," he said. "I think retirement is going to suit me, after all."
Mum had already put the kettle on, and she poured drinks of blackcurrant squash for Robyn and Alice, and fussed around them, and admired their clothes, and asked about school like a proper doting granny should.
"Is Redmond definitely coming?" Tamsin asked, wincing as Dad handed her daughters a bag of crisps each. What with my bags of sweets and Mum's squash, she'd no doubt have them detoxing as soon as they got home.
"Oh, he'll come," Mum said. "Honestly, I can't believe what he's done." She waited, while Dad ushered the girls into the living room, assured them that they could watch whatever they liked on television, and handed them the remote to prove it, which was probably a bad idea. As he closed the door behind them, she continued, "Susan and I spoke on the phone yesterday. The poor woman's broken."
Tamsin snorted. "Broken! Don't let her fool you. You have no idea what Redmond's put up with. Oh! Talk of the devil."
We all turned at the back door opening, and Redmond sauntered in. No other word described it. He didn't quite swagger, but he certainly didn't walk in his usual manner. He had a look of rebellion on his face, a challenge in his eyes. He was obviously preparing for a fight, just like Tamsin. I sighed inwardly. It was going to be a tricky few days.
The kettle was refilled. Dad checked that the girls were engrossed in a film and had supplies of crisps and squash to keep them happy, then we all sat at the kitchen table and stared at each other.
"So," said Mum. "Who wants to start?"
My phone beeped. Everyone stared at me. Well, it couldn't be Seth, I knew that much.
"Well, go on, then," Dad said. "Read it, and then we can get on with this."
I pulled my phone from my bag and stared at the notification. Ethan!
Just texting you to say, hope you got to your parents' house safely, and that all goes well. Thinking of you. See you soon. Love Ethan xxx
My face flared and I swallowed. "Er, just someone at the house, checking I got here safely."
I typed a reply:
Got here safely. About to start war cabinet meeting. Fingers crossed. Cara.
Dad nodded. "Very kind of them, I'm sure. Well, while we're on the subject of that, we may as well start with you, Cara."
I was debating whether to add a kiss, and wondering if it would look too mean if I didn't, or give him the wrong idea if I did, but Dad's words startled me so much I just pressed send without thinking. Oh, well, that was that sorted, then.
"Me?" I squeaked. "What about me?"
"Who is this person you're living with? Is he reputable? Are you safe, under another man's roof?"
With everything that was going on in Tamsin's and Redmond's lives, I was astonished that the events in my life were even on the radar.
Redmond cleared his throat. "I assure you, Dad, I did plenty of checking up on your behalf, since you were away. Cara's working for Ethan Rochester, so I don't think we have anything to worry about."
Pompous git, I thought. Just trying to worm his way back into the parents' good books by making out he was taking care of me in their absence. Although, to be fair, I supposed he had. It evidently didn't wash with Dad.
"Who the hell's Ethan Rochester, when he's at home?"
Mum looked blank, too, and Tamsin and Redmond exchanged despairing glances.
"Rochester's Department Stores?" Tamsin sounded incredulous. "You must have heard of them! I think I took you there once, Mum, when you came to York for the weekend. Yes, I bought you that yellow Jenny Kingston handbag from there, remember?"
Mum frowned. "Oh, yes. Good grief, that was a dear do. I spent more in one day—hang on. You mean, Cara's boss owns that shop?"
Redmond nodded. "And eleven more like it," he confirmed. "Absolutely loaded."
"You're at Moreland Hall?" Dad whistled. "You know the place, Sally. That big pile over near Hasedale."
"Of course," she said, as light clearly dawned. "The Rochester place. I never clicked. Fancy our Cara living there."
"You know it?" I said, puzzled.
"Everyone from Newarth knows the Rochester place. I just never realised you were working for those Rochesters. Never made the connection, for some reason."
"Mind you," Dad said, "it's not surprising we didn't, really. House is nearly always empty, isn't it? The Rochesters rarely visited the area, back when I lived up there. Don't they usually stay somewhere in London?"
"He has a house in London," I began, but Redmond cut in, showing off.
"The house in Yorkshire belonged to his great grandfather, but they have others. Houses in London, Gloucestershire, and France, plus an apartment in New York."
"How do you know that?" I said, awed. Even I hadn't known about the French house.
"Honestly, Cara, have you never heard of Google?" he said, rolling his eyes.
"I don't give a monkey's how many houses or shops he owns," Dad said. "The point is, what sort of man is he? From what I remember, his father was a decent sort, but his mother's side was a different matter entirely. Jennifer Kingston—"
"Oh!" Tamsin yelped, then gave us an apologetic look. "Sorry, I just realised that their handbag range is named after her. I don't know how many Jenny Kingston bags I have. Fancy that!"
"Fancy," I murmured, while Dad shook his head.
"Her family were always in the papers,” Dad continued. “She was a proper party girl before she got married, and her brother and father were notorious playboys. So, what I want to know is, does this Ethan Rochester take after his father's side, or his mother's? Are you safe under his roof? And how many other people are there with you?"
Was I safe under Ethan's roof? Well, there was a question. "If you're asking if he's a secret maniac with a basement full of torture implements, the answer's no," I said, carefully avoiding mention of the attic and remembering, with shame, my recent unhinged behaviour. "He's a decent man—the responsible sort. His mother's staying, at the moment, and she may have been a bit wild before she got married, but she settled down after the wedding, didn't she?" I crossed my fingers, hoping they wouldn't question Adele's parentage. I didn't think that little story would do Jennifer many favours. "Then there's Mr Rochester's little sister, and Mrs F, who's the housekeeper, and Michael the chauffeur, and Ken the gardener ..." My voice trailed off as, out of the blue, I felt a pang of homesickness. It was as if I was talking about my other family, I realised. They'd all come to mean so much to me.
"Is the housekeeper pleasant to you?" Mum asked. "I've heard about these bossy women who think they can order young girls around. If she's giving you a hard time …"
I laughed. "Giving me a hard time? She's lovely, Mum. She's always making sure I eat properly, and she keeps me close, so she can keep an eye on me and check I'm all right." She did, too, didn't she? In fact, sometimes, it was as if she couldn't bear to lose sight of me—as if she was afraid to leave me on my own. Or was it that she was afraid to be alone herself? But why?
Mum seemed mollified, at least. "Okay, well .... It's just, with everything you've put up with over the years from … him, I don't want you to have any more hassle. You're sure you're okay? Things are working out for you?"
"Honestly, Mum. They are."
Dad smiled. "All right. It seems to be in order, which is a relief. You did the right thing," he said. "Leaving … him, I mean. Life's too short to be so unhappy."
He put his arm around my mum, and they leaned together for a moment, almost as if they'd forgotten they had an audience.
Tamsin broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad you agree that life's too short," she said. "So, you'll understand why Redmond and I are now separated from Brad and Susan."
Mum gave her a flinty stare. "Hardly. I don't understand any of that. Especially you, Redmond," she added, glaring at her little prince. "What are you playing at? You had everything going for you. Good job, wonderful wife, nice home. Why would you throw all that away? Is it the male menopause? I was reading an article about that the other day. It does happen, you know."
Redmond folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I've woken up," he said, beaming at us all. "Or rather, I was awakened."
Mum and Dad looked irritated, but light was beginning to dawn. "You've met someone else!" I gasped. Redmond, of all people! Dad raised an eyebrow, but Mum looked appalled.
"Oh, no! Please, Redmond, not that. Tell me you haven't become a love rat," she pleaded.
"You must stop reading those trashy tabloids," Tamsin advised her, before turning to our brother, her eyes wide. "Have you? Got another woman, I mean?"
Redmond didn't even look ashamed. "I have, and she's absolutely wonderful."
"Ooh," Tamsin said. "What's her name? What's she like?"
"You'll be able to see for yourself in half an hour." Redmond glanced at his watch. "I've invited her here to meet you all."
Mum looked horrified. "But you can't! You can't! Ring her up. Tell her she can't come!"
"Certainly not. Look, Mum, I appreciate that you don't want a divorce in the family, but the fact is, I love her, and I want you to love her, too, and I'm sure you will, once you meet her. If you'd just give her a chance—"
Dad shook his head. "It's not that, Redmond," he told him, his voice serious. "Just that, well, your mum was only trying to do what's best for you, that's all."
"What do you mean?" Redmond gripped his mug of cold tea. "What have you done?"
"It's Susan," Mum whispered. "She's on her way here. I'm so sorry."