Moving On (16 page)

Pulling a face at him, she read it through then shot him a quick glance. ‘I don’t believe her. Dad wouldn’t lie to me.’

‘He lied to your mother. Often. We’ve both seen him do that.’

Rachel screwed the letter up and hurled it across the room, missing the waste-paper basket and leaving it on the floor as she turned back to her ironing. ‘Sorry, but I prefer to believe Dad’s version of events.’

He picked up the letter and smoothed it out, putting it on the coffee table. ‘Well, I believe Sally. And she’s clearly quite worried about your mother. You should at least set her mind at rest about that. After all, she did give us a wedding present.’

She pulled a face at him. ‘I’m too busy and I don’t do snail mail.’

‘It’d only take five minutes.’

‘I am
not
writing to her. I don’t believe her.’

‘I do. So I’ll write.’ He took the letter and walked out without another word.

She heard the musical tone of his computer starting up and blinked her eyes rapidly. They were starting to quarrel with one another and she didn’t like the feeling of being estranged from him. If he loved her, he’d take her side.

After she’d finished the ironing, she poked her head into the spare bedroom and asked, ‘Want a cup of coffee?’

‘No, thanks.’ His voice was cold and he didn’t turn to look at her.

She began to feel angry. ‘Who’s more important to you, a distant cousin or me?’

‘It’s not that. It’s how you treat your mother that upsets me. It’s the one thing we disagree about. I warn you now, if you ever speak to
my
mother half as rudely as you speak to your own, there’ll be trouble.’

‘I don’t. I haven’t.’

He looked across at her, his expression stern. ‘Then why do you treat your own mother so badly?’

‘You don’t know what she’s like.’

‘I’ve known you for two years, and met her lots of times. That gives me a pretty good idea, don’t you think? She’s a really nice person and it upsets me that she’s been treated so badly by all her family. I’ve mentioned that it upsets me before, but you ignore me. The only one who can get through to you is your father. He pulls all your strings and you’d believe him if he told you elephants could fly.’

With a huff of annoyance she left him to it, switching on the television. But she didn’t see much of the programme because she was too upset. Jamie wasn’t the sort to quarrel, but he was really hung up on this thing about her mother.

He couldn’t be right about what had happened at the wedding . . . could he?

Even if he was, what did he expect her to do about it now? She wasn’t going to upset her father. She’d learned to avoid doing that when she was a small child.

Anyway, her father was fun; her mother wasn’t. She tossed her head and tried to watch what was usually her favourite programme, but a little niggling doubt kept creeping into her mind.

And Jamie didn’t come to bed till late. She gave up trying to stay awake, turning her dampened pillow over.

The next day went really well at work. Molly found Avril efficient and informative about Euan’s business. He had other financial interests, but Avril didn’t give details, only hinted that they were successful. And yet, he was about to trade in his expensive convertible for a four-wheel drive. Not a brand new model, either. Was he short of ready cash? Or just being prudent?

She stood outside the hotel for a few minutes, enjoying the sun and the narrow fringe of gardens that were a riot of flowers at this time of year.

The thought that Euan might have more money than she’d realized was a warning to her not to get emotionally entangled with him. She had learned to be wary of high flyers, however charming they seemed. Craig could charm the socks off a statue once he got going, but look at how he’d treated her. And some of his colleagues were similar, with wives who never said anything controversial and were very decorative, many of them second wives, younger than their husbands.

Not that she’d put Euan in the same category as Craig. No way. He was a much nicer person. Anyone Avril Buttermere spoke about so warmly couldn’t be treacherous, she was sure. But still, he wasn’t an ordinary man. He was . . . special. Very. And she wished whatever he’d woken in her would calm down again.

No, she didn’t. He made her feel like a desirable woman for the first time in many years. That was such an ego boost.

She forced herself to concentrate on her job as she walked down to the sales office. She’d studied all the brochures and felt far better primed to work there. She could do it.

Euan was on the phone. He waved cheerfully and pointed to the second desk, then continued to talk, patiently explaining the concept of the leisure village and the sorts of houses he was building. How many times must he have gone over that?

When he put the phone down, he shook his head in irritation. ‘They have a brochure, but they still wanted everything explained in detail.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ She hesitated.

‘What?’

‘Well, the information in the brochure is a bit dense. I don’t think people want to know that much until they’re seriously thinking of buying. I wouldn’t. And anyway, most people are on the Internet these days. That’s where they can get further information if they want it.’

He looked at her in such surprise she wondered if she’d gone too far. Fancy criticizing your employer on your first full day there! She was so stupid. His next words made her sag back in relief.

‘You know, you’re absolutely right, Molly. I never thought of it that way.’ He picked up a brochure and flapped it at her. ‘OK then, apart from answering the phone and showing people round, I’d like you to work on those residents’ rules and on redesigning the basic brochure. You’ll soon find out what folk want to know.’

‘Me? Euan, I don’t know anything at all about designing brochures.’

‘Oh, we’ll get a graphic artist to finish it off. What I want you to do is sort out the information needed. Pretend it’s the first time you’ve heard about the village and put down what you’d want to know.’

‘Well, I’ll try. But don’t be annoyed if I mess it up.’

‘It’ll be a team effort, Molly, and I don’t think you’d mess it up, even if you did it on your own.’ He frowned and added, ‘And I’d never get annoyed with someone who was genuinely trying to do her best.’

She realized she’d been wimpish again and got angry at herself. ‘OK, then. I’ll enjoy having a go.’

‘Great. That’s another job off my shoulders.’

‘Can I go and explore the show houses before I settle down here? I’ll keep my eyes open for people coming to view the houses and come back if I’m needed. I feel I should get to know them thoroughly, don’t you? I’ve only had a lightning tour so far.’

‘Good idea. Go for it.’

She picked up a notepad and walked out, seeing Dan working on one of the new houses and returning his wave. She found it amazing that she was being paid to enjoy herself.

This time she explored the houses thoroughly, looking into each cupboard, studying each detail, even how the kitchen drawers self-closed, and writing notes to herself on the pad she’d brought with her. Then she went outside and studied the back and front, trying to relate these houses to the artist’s impression of the finished village on the brochure. It wasn’t at all clear from the brochure which groups of houses had already been built and which hadn’t.

By the time she got back to her desk, she had a few ideas, but the phone was ringing and Euan was already speaking to someone, so she picked it up, ‘Marlbury Leisure Village. Molly speaking. Yes, you’ve come to the right place. What would you like to know?’

The whole morning zipped past and she was surprised when Euan said, ‘About time you took your lunch break. Can you work till five today? I have to go out.’

‘Yes, of course.’ The phone started to ring again.

‘I’ve got it,’ he said cheerfully and made shooing motions with his free hand.

She walked briskly up to the hotel and bought a chicken and salad baguette from the coffee shop, sitting in a corner to eat it, enjoying a few minutes of peace. The coffee shop wasn’t very busy and that didn’t surprise her at all. The food was rather ordinary, sandwiches and pies mainly, yet this was an age of interesting food and women who were on a diet would want salads not huge sandwiches.

She wasn’t on a diet, though she had lost a little weight, but one of these every lunchtime wouldn’t be good for her waistline. She decided as she ate that she’d go shopping again tonight, not only for more food and wine, but also for a television.

She’d ring her cousin Helen, too, and have a bit of a natter.

And maybe she’d look at her emails. She’d avoided the laptop since she left home. It hurt so much to find no emails from her children.

Don’t go there!
she told herself.
Concentrate on the good things.

Brian decided to visit his sister that evening. He’d been wondering how Rachel was coping with married life, amused at the thought of her doing the cooking and cleaning. Heaven help poor Jamie, because she wasn’t at all domesticated and had refused point-blank to learn to cook anything when she was living at home. She hadn’t even done her own washing most of the time.

Nor had he. He found that he wasn’t proud of that, and wondered if Rachel had changed her attitude now as well.

He found the newly-weds sitting over the remains of their tea and it seemed to him that both of them were rather relieved to see him. ‘Any leftovers for a hungry brother?’

Rachel waved one hand towards the two dishes in the centre of the table, one with stringy-looking meat in a thin gravy and another with lumpy mashed potatoes. He’d bet anything these were from an instant packet. She didn’t appear to have cooked any vegetables. He hoped his brother-in-law knew something about cooking or the two of them would be in big trouble healthwise.

‘Learned to cook now, have you, brat?’ Then he saw Jamie’s glassy-looking expression and shut his mouth on a forkful of meat. It was tasteless and tough, but it was food, so he chewed and swallowed. ‘What’s this supposed to be?’

‘I was trying to make Mum’s casseroled steak,’ Rachel said. ‘But I must have got the other ingredients wrong.’

‘Why don’t you email her and ask for a few recipes?’

Her face went rigid and she collected the dirty plates, taking them to the kitchen and banging around a bit.

Jamie looked at Brian. ‘Have
you
been in touch with your mother?’

‘No. Has she been in touch with you two?’

‘No, she hasn’t, but your father’s cousin Sally has. She wanted to know how your mother was because she got a “This number is no longer in operation” message when she tried to phone Molly. She said she was sorry she couldn’t visit your mother in hospital.’

Brian stared at him. ‘Mum had to
stay
in hospital? Not just be treated in casualty?’

‘Yes. Concussion from a vehicle accident. I got a friend who works there to check the records. Must have happened on the way to the wedding.’

‘Mum wasn’t drunk, then?’

‘No. She collapsed and was taken to hospital.’

‘Oh.’

‘Rachel still insists on believing your father’s version of events. Are you more open-minded?’

Brian swallowed hard. ‘You’re sure of this?’

‘Oh, yes. We were just discussing it when you arrived, or I was trying to discuss it and yet again Rachel was refusing.’

That accounted for the fraught atmosphere. ‘Well, I’ve got some more news about Mum to add to the mix. Bit of a shock, really.’

Jamie raised his voice. ‘Rachel! Your brother has some further information about your mother.’

‘I told you: I don’t want to talk about
her
.’

He stood up. ‘We’ll join her in the kitchen.’

His brother-in-law’s voice was chill and Brian suddenly wished he hadn’t come tonight. He didn’t want to get mixed up in a quarrel, let alone make it worse. He trailed after Jamie and stood in the kitchen doorway, feeling uncomfortable.

Rachel immediately tried to walk out, but Jamie caught hold of her arm. ‘I don’t know what Brian has to say, but you’re going to listen. We have to deal with this.’

She scowled at her brother. ‘You not only came to mooch a meal off me, you came to make trouble. Well, Dad wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t!’

‘He lies to everyone. Even I know that.’

Her lips wobbled and tears brimmed suddenly in her eyes. ‘Not to me, he doesn’t.’

Jamie tried to put an arm round her but she shook him off and went to lean her hips against the working surface, folding her arms. ‘Well? Get on with it, Brian? What else has Mum done?’

‘Left home.’

‘What?’

‘She’s rented out the house and left.’

‘Where’s she gone?’

‘I don’t know. I asked the fellow who’s renting the house and he—’ Brian suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘That’s who he is, Mrs Benton’s son. I knew I’d seen him before but he had hair then. Now what the hell is his first name?’

‘Stuart. This is for real, right? He’s living in her house, the place she told the arbitrator she couldn’t bear to leave?’

Jamie intervened. ‘She didn’t actually tell him that; she told him the house had come to her from her parents, and she felt she had a moral right to keep it.’

‘Whatever. Brian, how come you were talking to Stuart Benton?’

‘I went to pick up my boxes of old toys and he was there. He refused to tell me his name or give me Mum’s forwarding address.’

Rachel made a huffing noise. ‘What’s got into her? First she refuses to sell the house to Dad, then she rents it out to someone else and just . . . disappears. She
is
losing the plot and I am so not going to be part of trying to cheat Dad.’

Jamie intervened again. ‘Your father told me how much he was offering for the house. He boasted he was going to get it at a knock-down price. Rach, his offer was way below market price, like about fifty per cent below.’