Just a Family Affair (20 page)

‘There’s a cheque for five grand in there,’ he said curtly. ‘It’s going to have to last you three months. Because it’s going to take at least that long to sort things out. Legally. And financially. And it’s all the cash we’ve got. So take it or leave it.’

She picked it up. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and he was astonished by the gratitude in her voice. He’d expected a battle, a derisive laugh. But her features had been suffused with relief.

‘I hate doing this.’ Her voice was almost a whisper, and he had to lean forward to hear what she was saying. ‘I would have done anything I could to avoid it. But I didn’t have any choice.’

She reached out and took a cigarette from his packet. He couldn’t remember now if she used to smoke. He thought not. Wordlessly, he held up his lighter and flicked it. The light from the flame lit up her hollow cheekbones.

‘Flora doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.’ She spoke matter of factly. ‘Lawrence was a wonderful father to her. They were everything to each other. Now she’s got nothing. Except me. For whatever that’s worth.’

She gave a self-deprecating grimace. Patrick lit a cigarette of his own to hide his shock. Kay had never been one for selling herself short. She’d always been bursting with confidence, so incredibly sure of herself. It was one of the things that had made her so sexy. Now she was even less than a shadow of her former self: the bitten nails, that had once been long and shiny red; the flat loafers, when he couldn’t remember her in any other than three-inch heels. He’d definitely never seen her in jeans.

Yet there was still something appealing about her . . .

Don’t even go there, Patrick, he reminded himself.

‘Look,’ he said, trying to take an assertive stance, but being as gentle as he could. He didn’t want her breaking down in the middle of the pub. ‘This couldn’t come at a worse time for us. Mandy and I are getting married in six weeks—’

There was a flash of warmth in her smile. ‘Oh. Congratulations. I didn’t know you were still together.’

‘Yes. And I don’t want this to spoil the occasion. For Mandy or Lucy or Dad.’

‘No. I agree. I don’t want to spoil it either. Not at all.’ Kay looked distressed. ‘Patrick - just tell me what else I can do. What the hell else am I supposed to do?’

Her eyes were huge as she gulped her wine.

Shit, thought Patrick. He was losing control of the situation. He’d been so sure of what he was going to say, so clear in his mind that he wasn’t going to take any crap from Kay Oakley.

‘We can’t let anyone know this is Dad’s child,’ he said desperately. ‘It would be a disaster. You’ve got to agree to say that I’m the father. If you want the money without a fight.’

Kay looked at him in amazement. Then gradually a smile crept over her face.

‘My God, I’d forgotten what a bloody hero you are,’ she said. ‘Your father is an incredibly lucky man.’

She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

‘As far as I’m concerned, the paternity issue is strictly between us. I’m never going to say a word to anyone. On paper, I’ll say the father is Ronald McDonald, if that’s what it takes. But from Flora’s point of view, her father is Lawrence, and that’s the end of it. She won’t ever know the truth.’

‘Some people will have to know,’ Patrick pointed out. ‘Because Dad and I can’t magic up the money between us without some sort of explanation. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short little life, it’s that it’s usually easier to stick to something resembling the truth.’

She sat back, closing her eyes, and he saw dark shadows. A tiny bit of him wanted to scoop her up, put her into bed, smooth her hair . . .

‘As long as you understand that my first and only loyalty is to Flora. I’m not doing this so I can go and whoop it up at your expense. Whatever you give me is for her benefit, not mine.’>

Somehow, he believed her. Whereas initially he’d had a vision in his head of her gleefully cackling and dashing off to a BMW showroom with their money, now he saw a different picture.

She was getting up. ‘I must go and make sure Flora hasn’t woken up. She’d panic if I wasn’t there.’

Patrick jumped to his feet. ‘Kay—’ He stopped her as she walked past. He put a hand on each of her arms, feeling the very bones through her shirt. If he squeezed her, she’d snap. ‘I don’t know what else we can do to help. Can we find you a cottage, or—’ He sounded so bloody patronizing. He’d better just shut up.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I’ll probably go back to my parents for a week or so while I think about things.’

‘How do we contact you?’

She looked a bit blank, as if she hadn’t given it much thought. ‘Don’t call Mum and Dad. I’ll get a mobile, I guess.’

‘Call me at the brewery. Leave your number.’ He pulled one of his business cards out of his pocket. ‘And don’t worry about the bill here. I’ll sort it out with Barney.’

She frowned. ‘Won’t he think it strange?’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll tell him that you’re a Michelin inspector in disguise.’

‘I didn’t think they were open to bribes. And I thought you believed in telling the truth.’ A playful smile. A flashback to the old Kay.

‘Not all the time.’ He managed an impish grin back.

They stood for a moment, no words between them. Former lovers, in a situation so complicated and alien that close physical contact was now almost impossible. Both of them felt the pull for a second, but both resisted. Patrick, because his loyalty was to his own family. And Kay, because she had to protect herself.

As he drove through the narrow back lanes to his cottage, Patrick decided he was going to have to shut his mind to everything that had just happened and focus on the wedding. It wasn’t fair to spoil it for Mandy. In fact, he decided, it would be good fun to discuss their plans over a bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine. He felt rotten about dismissing her earlier. She wasn’t to know about the can of worms that had just been opened, after all.

As he dropped his car down into second gear to get it up the steep hill that led to Little Orwell, his mobile rang. He glanced at the screen in irritation. It was Mayday, which was odd. She wasn’t in the habit of phoning him. Intrigued, he pulled over to the side of the road for a second, letting the engine tick over.

‘Hey!’

All he could hear on the other end was a choking sound.

‘Mayday?’

‘It’s Gran,’ Mayday sobbed. ‘She’s killed herself. Oh, Patrick. I just don’t know what to do.’

That, thought Patrick, was tonight’s plans out of the window.

‘Why didn’t she say something?’ There was desperation in her wail. ‘I’d have done anything for her. Anything!’

‘Of course you would,’ soothed Patrick. ‘Where are you?’

‘At the hotel. I couldn’t stand it at Gran’s any longer. My bloody mother’s milking it for everything she can get.’

Patrick could believe it. The few times he had run into Angela he couldn’t get away fast enough.

‘I’ll come over as quickly as I can.’

‘No. No. You don’t have to. I just wanted someone to talk to.’ There was a large sniff. ‘I think I’ll just go to bed.’

‘Why did she do it?’

‘The arthritis, I suppose. She couldn’t stand it any more. She must have been in such pain. And she never complained. She took all her painkillers in one go.’

‘Maybe . . .’ Patrick trailed off. He hated platitudes.

‘Maybe it’s for the best, you mean?’ Mayday was always quick to pick up what he was thinking.

What was he supposed to say? ‘You know what your gran was like. She knew what she was doing.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ Mayday’s voice cracked. ‘Fuck it, Patrick. She was the only person in the world I really cared about.’

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear how small she sounded. Feisty, ballsy, crazy, one-off Mayday, who never let anything or anyone get to her.

‘Give me half an hour.’

He’d nip home, explain what had happened to Mandy. She’d understand.

‘Honestly. Don’t worry. I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you a huge favour.’

‘Anything.’

‘Will you come with me to the funeral?’

Patrick didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course!’

‘I don’t trust myself not to punch my mother. I know she’ll be weeping and wailing and gnashing her teeth all the way through the service. And she didn’t give a toss, Patrick. All the silly bitch will be worried about is getting her hands on the money. I need you with me to stop me throttling her. If you don’t mind.’

‘Mayday, of course I don’t. And any time off you want - don’t give the hotel a second thought. I can send someone over to sort it out.’>

‘I’d rather work. It’ll give me something else to think about.’

Patrick could relate to that.

‘Well, if you change your mind . . .’

‘I probably won’t. But thanks. I know you mean it.’

She sounded calmer.

‘Go and have a bath and have a whopping brandy sent up from the bar,’ Patrick ordered. ‘Get a good night’s sleep.’

‘Yeah.’ There was a small pause. ‘Thanks, Patrick. You’re a real mate.’

Patrick tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and leant back for a moment. He thought about Mayday’s granny, who he usually met when he dropped Mayday off after a night out. He remembered eating delicious rhubarb pie in her back garden one Sunday, its crust crisp and glistening with sugar. He’d caught Elsie looking at him with a strange expression, a curious mixture of interest and perspicacity, and the smile she’d given him when he met her gaze had been meaningful. Almost as if she was giving him a clandestine sign of her approval.

It was horrible to think she was dead. He’d known she was poorly, and that Mayday worried about her incessantly. As usual, because it seemed to be his default setting at the moment, he felt guilty, but what more could he have done? Surely it was enough that it was he who had lobbied to make Mayday the manager of the Horse and Groom? That had given her a substantial salary, which in turn she’d been able to use to help her grandmother. How far did paternalism and duty extend? He couldn’t add finding a cure for arthritis to his to-do list.

Whatever he did, thought Patrick gloomily, he ended up feeling as if everything was his fault. And who, he wondered, ever worried about him?

 

Half an hour later, Mandy was waving a piece of paper under his nose to try and attract his attention.

‘Patrick! You’re not listening to a word. Lucy and I think buffet, not sit down, so we don’t have to worry about nightmare seating plans. And we’re going to get Suzanna to do the food. What do you think?’

He stared back at her rather blankly.

‘Mandy, I’m really sorry. I’m going to have to go out.’

‘What?’

‘Something’s come up that I think I should have dealt with.’

‘What? What can be so urgent all of a sudden?’

Mandy wasn’t the volatile type. She was very even-tempered. But there was a definite flash of irritation in her voice.

‘Mayday’s granny killed herself last night,’ Patrick explained. ‘I ought to go and see if she’s all right.’

Mandy looked baffled.

‘Surely it’s too late? Surely she’s dead?’

‘Not her granny. Mayday.’

‘Oh.’ Mandy looked down at her lists, crestfallen. ‘That’s awful. Of course you’ve got to go.’

‘She hasn’t really got anybody else to look after her. You know what a total cow her mother is.’

‘It’s OK. I understand.’

She started tidying away her paperwork. Patrick couldn’t imagine how she could possibly have so much already, when he had only proposed to her on Sunday.

‘Look,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve already told you. Do whatever you think is best. Between you and Lucy, it will be wonderful.’

‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she said sadly. ‘It’s no fun if you don’t join in too.’

He gave her a hug. ‘Let me just drive over to the Horse and Groom. Make sure Mayday isn’t about to jump out of the window. I really should, as her mate. And her boss.’

‘I know you should. I’m not complaining. Honestly.’

He pulled her in close, pressing his lips against her soft, shiny hair. She had every right to complain. Most women, he knew, would have a screaming fit if their fiancé had walked out of planning their wedding to console another woman. But there was more to Mandy than that. She wasn’t the clingy, possessive type, and he admired her for it.

‘I’ll be an hour. Max.’

‘No. Make sure she’s OK. The wedding’s not going anywhere. ’ She gave him a little mischievous smile. ‘I’ll save it all for you. Don’t think you’re going to get out of it that easily.’

‘You know I’ll be happy with whatever you decide. As long as I don’t have Henry stumping up the aisle in velvet knickerbockers with the ring on a tasselled cushion. Or anyone in a nasty shiny hired morning suit with an acrylic cravat. Or a hideous archway made out of balloons . . .’

Patrick had been to enough of Honeycote Ales’ employees’ weddings to know that all of these things were a possibility. Mandy giggled.