Erin Robertson didn’t go by that surname anymore. She had returned to her maiden name of Gulber, a name she hated, the sound of it grating to her ears. Whenever she heard the name used, she thought of her mother, shrieking at her father as she put her hands over her ears to drown out their argument.
Returning to the name Gulber had not been pleasant but it had been necessary. She had no intention of being associated with the name Robertson after the divorce. She wanted a clean break to start again.
While Ben was thinking about Zoë, Erin was thinking about the castle. She was on the phone to Alex. He was at the office whilst she sat at home, a glass of wine half drunk in front of her. She had spent the morning looking through the contract for the food stalls. If they didn’t get things sorted soon, the deals would fall through and Alex was making sure she hadn’t forgotten that fact.
“He was your husband,” Alex was saying. “You should be able to make him see sense.”
“I was never able to make him see sense,” she replied with a sigh. “It’s not my fault.”
“What the hell happened anyway? I thought he was halfway into a coffin?”
She winced at his choice of language but didn’t let her reaction escape into her tone of voice. “I have no idea but he’s home and we just have to deal with that fact, don’t we?”
“What we have to deal with is that I have spent a fortune lining up investors for this and if we don’t have something solid by the end of the month, we’re both up shit creek.”
“He’ll sell.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because if it’s a choice between selling and giving it to Ben, he’ll sell.”
“I hope you’re right because if you’re not-”
“I know, I know. Just be patient, it’ll all be fine. This time next year, we’ll be millionaires.”
“Or out on the street. Have you any idea what the mortgage is on my place?”
Erin knew exactly how much was owing on the place. She just wished she’d known before hooking up with Alex. He had come across as richer than Croesus but in reality had been hiding a multitude of financial sins. “Try and relax, Alex. There’s no point being a millionaire if you’re dead of a heart attack before you have a chance to enjoy it.”
They were overstretched, there was no other way of putting it. Bribing council officials for the relevant permissions was not cheap. Alex was in the red for a little over half a million and buying the castle seemed to be their only way out. The money had been borrowed off the back of returns that were almost too good to be true for the investors. They would only become true if Peter, the stubborn bastard, agreed to sell.
Once they had the castle in their hands, they could get the ball rolling. The concession stands, the car park meters, the enlarged shop, turning the great hall into a conference and wedding venue. It was all on hold until he sold.
She had no idea just how stubborn he’d be. Twice she’d rung him since the accident to persuade him to accept the offer, twice she’d been rebuffed as if they had no history together at all. The marriage seemed to count for nothing. Peter point blank refused to deal with her or Alex.
She drained the last of the glass before pouring out another generous measure. She might have sounded calm and reassuring to Alex but inside she felt a cold dread that the alcohol was doing little to thaw.
What happened if it all fell through? Could they recoup enough to at least keep the house? The figures suggested it was very much touch and go. All she could do was wait for the right moment. Something had to come up soon.
After finishing the second glass, she passed through to the lounge, standing in front of the window and looking out into the town.
Their house was situated on top of a hill, high above Helmsley. From where she was, she could just see the castle tower, down in the valley far below her. Should she have confided in Alex? Should she have kept secret that she had sold off a number of the artefacts from the castle? Ones that were officially still in storage? The paperwork said they were there but the objects themselves were in the hands of private collectors only too happy to ask few questions. All that mattered to them was owning items of huge historical significance.
She felt trapped. Alex knew what she’d done. If the sale fell through, she had the horrible feeling the truth might slip out, revenge for her failure to assist in his grand scheme. But then if Peter were to happen to visit the store and find the pieces missing, what then? There was no proof that she had taken them but that didn’t stop her worrying. The guilt was overwhelming at times.
She decided to ring Joanne that evening, see if she could get anything out of her that she could use to her advantage. She might get lucky. Peter might not have been paying his taxes, cooking the books to increase his profits. It wasn’t likely but it was worth a shot.
She didn’t have time to stop and think about Zoë, or to think about the part that her choice of business and life partner had played in her daughter’s death. She was too busy worrying about herself.