Naked Truths (20 page)

Amelia gave a small smile. ‘Sorry to turn up out of the blue like this. I've quit my job and decided to come back to the UK for a bit.'

Caro glanced at Benedict, concerned, then back at Amelia. ‘I'm sorry to hear that, it sounded like you were having such fun out there.'

Amelia shrugged. ‘I can always get another PA job. Besides, Russia wasn't all it's cracked up to be.' She seemed to be avoiding their eyes.

Caro wasn't quite sure what to say. ‘Well, it's lovely to see you, anyway.' She noticed Amelia's suitcase by the door. ‘Er, is this a flying visit?'

‘Actually, I was wondering if I could stay for a while.'

Caro looked at Benedict. ‘Here?'

Amelia flushed slightly. ‘Yes, but don't worry if it's not convenient. I know it's very short notice . . .'

‘We'd love to have you!' Caro said happily. Amelia smiled for the first time, looking a little like her old self again.

‘If you're sure? I'll pay rent and housekeeping.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' said Benedict. ‘Our home is your home, you know that.'

‘That's settled, then!' declared Caro. ‘Benedict, if you get Amelia's suitcase, I'll show her to her room. It really is a darling place, I think you'll like staying here.'

Caro and Benedict were due to be having dinner with Stephen and Klaus that evening. They offered to cancel, but Amelia would hear nothing of it, assuring them that she was fine, and just needed an early night.

‘She looks terrible, I'm really worried about her,' said Benedict. They were standing in the kitchen, talking in low voices. ‘Do you think she's ill or something?'

‘She could just be run down,' said Caro. ‘It does sound like she's been burning the candle at both ends for quite a while now.'

‘I don't know . . . there's something different about her,' he said. Caro tried to reassure him.

‘Darling, I am sure Amelia just needs a bit of rest and relaxation. I'll make sure I feed her up.'

Benedict's expression turned less serious. Caro's cooking skills were a subject of much mirth in the family. ‘Christ, I don't know about that. We want to build my sister up, not kill her off.' He sidestepped deftly as Caro went to hit his arm.

‘I've found out some rather fascinating things about our very own Rowena,' announced Stephen as he poured everyone another glass of excellent peppery red wine.

‘Ooh! Is she harbouring a dark secret?' Caro asked.

‘More like harbouring half of London!' Stephen said. ‘I met this delightful chap at an antiques fair last week. Eighty-two and still as fit as a fiddle.' He sighed dramatically. ‘One can only hope to be in half as good shape when one gets to his age . . .'

Klaus's dark eyes twinkled under their heavy brows.

‘Anyway,' Stephen carried on, ‘this chap is a watercolour dealer, an exceptionally good one as it happens. Many years ago Rowena's father was one of his main clients. He was an Elgin, you know.'

‘Didn't they used to own half of Chelsea?' asked Benedict. ‘I read something about it.'

‘And the rest!' said Stephen. ‘At one time, they were so rich they made the Windsors look like street urchins.'

‘Did this dealer ever meet Rowena?' asked Caro.

‘Once or twice. Rumour has it her father was very protective and didn't like her going out,' said Stephen. He studied his wine glass. ‘Apparently she was rather a beauty in her day. All the young bucks were queuing up, but Rowena wasn't allowed to see any of them.'

‘What about her mother?' Caro was fascinated.

‘Died in childbirth. From what this chap tells me, there were no brothers or sisters either. And then Pa Elgin departed this mortal coil, leaving Rowena . . .'

‘All alone,' Caro finished. ‘Oh, poor woman!'

Stephen arched one eyebrow. ‘Hardly the adjective one would use. It seems our dear neighbour is sitting on a veritable goldmine!'

‘You're not going on some kind of humanitarian mission to rescue Rowena, are you?' Benedict asked Caro later, as they were getting ready for bed.

‘I wouldn't dream of it,' said Caro, pulling her nightshirt over her head. ‘I just feel sorry for her. When I look around at you and Milo and Granny Clem and Mummy and Daddy . . . I just know how much nicer life is when there are people you love in it. Rowena's got no one!'

Benedict came over and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘And that's one of the reasons I love you, because you care about people. But I think you should leave Rowena to her own devices; she's survived perfectly well until now.'

Caro sighed. ‘You're right, I've got to stop poking my nose in.' She went to pull the curtains shut. Despite the late hour, the consultancy room opposite was ablaze with fluorescent light.

‘Those poor doctors work hellish hours,' Caro started to say, when a weedy figure appeared in the middle of the room. She blinked. Work had clearly finished a long time ago. The same man she'd seen before was standing there, head bowed, wearing nothing but a black leather pouch and a studded dog collar. Caro's mouth dropped open as a hulking figure emerged from the side of the room. She was holding some kind of long, black whip . . .

‘What on earth's the matter?' asked Benedict in confusion, as his wife let out a squeak and ran into the bathroom.

FOR ONCE, HARRIET
had decided not to go back to Churchminster and she and Saffron were attending the fireworks display in nearby Battersea Park instead. Harriet felt a bit bad about not going home, but Christmas was just round the corner. She missed her parents dreadfully, but when she'd phoned her mother earlier that week and heard a huge commotion in the background as Ambrose had tripped over one of the dogs and gone flying, whisky and all, she had decided that London was a lot more peaceful for the time being.

Caro had asked Amelia if she wanted to go to Churchminster with them, but she'd turned the invite down. The three of them were now standing in the kitchen. Even though it was nearly midday Amelia was still in her silk pyjamas and looked like she had no intention of changing.

‘Are you sure we can't tempt you? Beryl Turner's harvest pie really is quite something,' Caro said.

Amelia looked apologetic. ‘Thanks, but I think I'll still pass.' A flash of disappointment crossed Benedict's face. Amelia noticed and smiled at him. ‘You two go,' she urged. ‘I've still got to unpack.'

‘Well, if you're sure . . .' Benedict replied.

‘Sure I'm sure. Go have fun!'

Benedict walked over and kissed his sister on the cheek. ‘I think everyone's away this weekend, so you'll have the mews to yourself.'

Caro thought she saw Amelia stiffen. ‘This place has got a burglar alarm, hasn't it?' Amelia asked.

‘And security lights, and ten-foot walls, and an impossibly difficult entry system,' Benedict said. ‘No one's getting in here unless you want them to.'

A full moon shone down on Churchminster as Caro, Benedict and Milo left Mill House later on. It was a clear fresh night, millions of stars glittering in the velvet sky above. As they made their way across the green towards Fairoaks, the front door of one of the neighbouring cottages opened and two figures shuffled out. It was the elderly Merryweather sisters, two spinsters who had lived in the village for as long as Caro could remember.

‘Evening, Dora, hello, Eunice!' Caro called.

‘Caroline, dear!' they chorused. ‘How nice to see you!'

‘Here, let me take that,' Caro said, walking over to relieve Eunice of her large straw basket.

‘Thank you, dear,' said Eunice. ‘Oh, there's Benedict! And Master Milo!'

Milo blew a big raspberry at her.

‘Please excuse Milo's manners,' said Benedict drily. ‘Eunice, Dora, how are you both?'

The sisters looked up at him and swooned. ‘Very well, thank you for asking.'

Dora turned to Caro. ‘You've got a handsome one there!'

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, ladies,' said Benedict, as he offered them both an arm. ‘Shall we?'

Twenty minutes later the party had only got as far as the other side of the green. Dora and Eunice tottered along, holding on to Benedict and pointing out every bit of vegetation.

‘Look at those blackberries, Dor!'

‘They're a bit late in the season, Eunice! I should have put them in that cake.'

‘What have you got in the basket? It's very heavy,' said Caro. She was walking ahead hand in hand with Milo, and even he was starting to strain ahead.

‘Just our supper, dear!' Eunice called out.

Caro turned around. ‘There's going to be food there, you needn't have done that.'

‘Yes, but we know what we like, you see,' said Dora. ‘All this hot and spicy stuff plays havoc with our stomachs. We've got more than enough, you're welcome to have some.'

Caro lifted the tartan rug covering the top of the basket. They must have been preparing it for days, she thought, as she saw the pork pies, sticky buns and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Eunice pointed at a tartan-patterned flask wedged in one corner.

‘Have some, dear. It'll warm you up.'

‘Oh, thank you, but I had a coffee before I left the house,' Caro said. Eunice and Dora looked at each other and giggled. ‘It's a bit stronger than that!'

Caro pulled the top off and sniffed. Her eyes started watering. ‘Is that whisky?'

‘Bell's finest!' Dora said. ‘We like a little winter warmer.'

‘There must be a whole bottle in here!' Caro spluttered.

Dora's eyes twinkled. ‘Two, actually. We always save a bit for the journey home.'

Caro suddenly had a vision of finding two pairs of Nora Batty legs sticking out of the ditch later. Benedict's eyes met hers through the dark, and she bit her lip to stop bursting into laughter.

‘There you are!' Clementine exclaimed, when Caro and Milo eventually walked in the front door. The large house was teeming with people, and several burly men Caro didn't recognize were tramping through the house carrying boxes of what looked like fireworks.

‘We ran into Dora and Eunice . . .' Caro said apologetically, as the ambling trio appeared at the end of the garden path. A loud crash sounded from the back garden.

‘Oh, do try to be careful!' called Clementine. She turned back to Caro. ‘Ted Briggs has enlisted the help of his building friends for the fireworks display. Frightfully nice chaps, but one fears they are a little heavy handed.' Another even louder crash reverberated through the house. Clementine winced.

‘I'm sure you've got it all under control,' Caro said as she made her way into the kitchen.

‘Evening, troops!'

Angie looked up, her face red and shiny from the heat of the oven. ‘Darling!' She rushed over and the two women hugged warmly. Angie stepped back and looked at Caro. ‘There's something different about you. Have you had your hair done?'

‘No, I was actually just thinking in the car that I ought to get it cut. It's riddled with split ends.'

‘Nonsense, you're glowing,' Angie laughed. ‘I thought all that pollution was meant to play havoc with one's complexion.'

‘I didn't look that great this morning – when I had Milo's Rice Krispies in my hair,' smiled Caro. She turned to the busty, dark-haired woman, who was deftly transferring the contents of a cooking pot into a large serving bowl.

‘Hullo, Beryl!'

The landlady of the Jolly Boot looked up and flashed her big smile. ‘Hello, Caro! Got the family down with you?'

As ever, Beryl was dressed up to the nines in high heels, a black knee-length skirt, and a tight-fitting satin blouse. Her nails were red and long, and huge diamanté earrings swung from her ears. In her mid-forties, anyone else would have been in danger of looking like mutton dressed as lamb, but somehow Beryl carried it off. Jack and Beryl had run the pub for years, and had a formidable but fair reputation. Their teenage daughter Stacey, who took after her mother in the chest department, worked behind the bar.

Benedict walked into the kitchen carrying another box of fireworks. ‘I've put him to work already,' cried Clementine, efficiently shepherding Milo in behind. ‘Do come and look at the bonfire, darling. Ted and the others have done a marvellous job.'

‘OK, if you're sure I can't help . . .' Caro said.

‘Go,' Angie replied. ‘We're nearly done.'

Caro and Milo followed Clementine out of the kitchen door and down the long stone path. The way had been lit by dozens of tall garden candles, flames flickering in the gentle breeze. Over the hedge at the bottom, Caro could see an orange glow, spreading upwards into the darkness. As they got closer, the spit and crackle of the bonfire could be heard over the hedgerow.

‘Fire! Fire!' shouted Milo.

‘Good Lord, I hope we haven't produced the family's first pyromaniac,' said Clementine, as she opened the small gate. ‘Well, here we are.'

They were in the large field that backed on to Fairoaks, and in the far right corner a huge bonfire was starting to take on life, the orange flames twisting and growing. At the top was the stuffed figure of Guy Fawkes, dressed in an old jacket and trousers, a cream cowboy hat on its head. A few men were standing back, admiring their handiwork, and Caro recognized the short, portly figure of Freddie Fox-Titt.

‘Evening, all!' He walked over. ‘What do you think? I'm rather pleased with our efforts!'

‘You've done a marvellous job,' Caro said. She looked down at Milo, whose little eyes were goggling at the spectacle.

‘It's nice for young ones,' Freddie replied, eyes shining. He had a smudge of something black on his cheek.

‘Liar,' Caro told him, smiling.

Everyone really had pulled the stops out. As well as the pièce de résistance, which was burning away merrily, there were several long trestle tables piled high with tureens of fragrant chilli con carne, sausage casseroles, harvest pies, and bowls of steaming hot jacket potatoes. People were lining up to help themselves, muffled up in jackets, scarves and hats. In the far corner Caro could see dozens of rockets stuck in the earth, ready to be lit and shot into oblivion.