Deception (11 page)

Chapter 10

Gwen was seated at one of two desks in the middle of the office. Standing next to her, looking over my step mother’s shoulder was a tall, slim young woman. They were both gazing down at a laptop but as I entered, Gwen looked up and smiled.

“Ah, Bailey, dear, so good to see you again,” she said, standing up and coming over to take my hands and greeting me with a kiss on both cheeks, French style. “It’s been much too long.”

She was a small, stout woman, with short, silvery blue hair and very blue eyes in a square shaped face. She was motherly looking, if motherly looking is an accepted description of a person. In my opinion, my own mother had never been motherly looking, or even very maternal. Lara Cathcart Miller had always been too beautiful and glamorous for that. She’d never looked like any child’s mum. Not the sort of woman who didn’t mind getting her hair ruffled and her clothes tugged about by small, sticky fingers.

In the fifteen years since I’d last seen her, my step mother seemed to have aged very little. Maybe there were a few more lines around the eyes, and a little heavier around the bust and hips, but she wasn’t an unattractive lady; far from it. She had grown older with dignity and attained a sort of presence that I didn’t remember her having had before. And even though she wasn’t the beauty that my mother had been and still was, Gwen had a face full of character, and her eyes were shrewd and intelligent. Not calculating, not like my mother’s at times. And now that I was older I could understand why my father had found Gwen charming. She gave off a sense of calm placidity. She seemed anchored, as my mother had never been when I’d been growing up. Though maybe now that she’d married again, she was a more contented person.

“May I introduce Anne?” Gwen went on, presenting the young woman standing behind her, who came forward to shake my hand almost timidly. “Anne’s our receptionist here, and so much more besides.” She gave the young woman an affectionate smile. “She’s such a treasure.”

Anne was in her early twenties, I guessed. Probably aged around twenty four or twenty five. She was a strikingly beautiful girl, being slender and willowy, with long, straight hair the colour of ripened corn and with the most amazing violet-coloured eyes. She dipped her head at me shyly.

“How do you do, Miss Cathcart,” she whispered in a slightly husky French accent.

“Please, call me Bailey,” I said, smiling back at her. “After all, I’m family, not a guest.”

Something flickered in Gwen’s eyes as I spoke, but it vanished so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.

Anne said, glancing across at Gwen, “Well, if you don’t need me any longer here, Mrs Cathcart, I’ll get back to my work now, shall I?”

“Yes, do, there’s a dear.”

Then she laid her hand lightly on Anne’s wrist, momentarily detaining her, and glanced over at me.

“But first some food for our visitor, I think.”

I supposed the word visitor was more acceptable than guest, so I didn’t go to the bother of correcting her. Besides, I realised I was hungry. I hadn’t had anything on the plane apart from a diet coke, being too nervous to eat, and the last thing I’d consumed had been a morsel of cake at the airport when I’d had coffee with Ari.

Gwen flexed her wrist in the air; rather like a royal wave.

“I’m sure Chef will still be hanging around in the kitchen, though I believe it’s too late for a hot meal now.”

I intervened quickly. “Oh, honestly, anything cold will do. Please don’t go to any trouble on my behalf.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I assure you. Some soup, perhaps? And a sandwich? I’m pretty sure he can rustle up a chicken and salad sandwich. Or cheese and ham, if you prefer. And a drink, of course. Tea? Coffee, maybe? A soft drink? Or something stronger? Anne can get you something from the bar if you like.”

The something stronger sounded very tempting, but I was afraid if I had any wine or spirits, I’d simply conk out there and then. So I just smiled back, and said, “No soup, thanks, but a chicken and salad sandwich with a cup of tea would be very acceptable.”

Gwen nodded to Anne, who instantly made for the door, before Gwen’s voice stopped her.

“And kindly bring a hot chocolate for me, please, Anne.” Her voice rose slightly, enquiringly, as was her glance towards me. “I’m sure Bailey won’t mind having her supper with me here in the office. We just need to have a little chat, before she retires for the night.”

The girl bobbed her head obediently and slipped out without another word. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d curtsied, too. I could quite understand her somewhat obsequious manner towards her employer – I had already reversed my initial impression of Gwen as being just a motherly type. I sensed there was actually a lot more to the woman than sweetness and apple pie. In fact, though sweetness and apple pie had been offered, it wasn’t difficult to realise that there was something actually fairly daunting and formidable about my step mother. I guess the years had hardened her. Perhaps life with my father hadn’t been so cushy.

So when Gwen motioned me to an office chair on wheels and bade me sit opposite her, I complied with some trepidation, wondering what was in store.

She said, “That chair’s not too bad; at least it has arm rests and a firm back for support.”

I didn’t expect to be seated that long, but I said, “It’s fine. Thanks.”

Sliding the chair up to the desk as indicated, I put my bag on the floor at my feet, rested my elbows on the desk and waited for her to speak. Because clearly she had things to say to me.

But obviously the formalities had to be gotten out of the way first.

“I hope you had a good trip over, Bailey,” she said very politely.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Indeed, I did, thanks. And I want to thank you, you and dad, that is, for letting me come to stay here at ‘Pegasus’. I realise it was rather short notice, but if you hadn’t agreed, well, I’m not quite sure what I’d have done otherwise, in the circumstances. So I appreciate it. Really. And when the time comes to pay you back for your hospitality, then you can be sure I’ll do whatever I can to help out here.”

She heard me out. Then, closing the lid of the laptop so that she could see me better, she steepled the tips of her fingers together and rested her chin on them lightly. Her nails were short but manicured to an immaculate French polish shine. Her clear blue eyes were locked onto mine, and her silver hair was like a halo around her head. But I didn’t underestimate her or begin to imagine her as any angel, guardian or otherwise.

Gwen said, “You did sound rather desperate when you rang. And you said you had no one else to turn to. In the circumstances. Most unfortunate.”

I didn’t respond to the slightly enquiring lilt I heard in her voice, as if she now expected a fuller and even more detailed briefing than the one I’d already given her over the phone the previous day. But I really didn’t feel as if I needed to give her a complete breakdown, so I remained silent.

After a brief pause she went on. “Still, despite everything, I’m glad to see you looking so well, Bailey.” Her smile broadened. It was the most natural smile I’d seen from her yet. Distinctly one of amusement. “You’ve altered your style of dressing and appearance somewhat, but it’s a most attractive look all the same.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. Was I never going to hear the end of it?

“And your brother’s well, I hope.”

I matched the formality of her tone. “He is very well, thank you. As is Miranda, his wife. She’s pregnant, and they’re both looking forward to the arrival of their first child.”

“Ah, yes. Your mother will be a grandmother quite soon, I believe.”

“She will indeed. And my father will be a grandfather, of course.”

There followed an awkward silence.

Why did it feel awkward to me? Weird.

Gwen laid her hands on the desk, palms flat, and gazed across at me. It was as if she’d come to some sort of decision. Her stare was unwavering. And somewhat disconcerting.

“Bailey.”

“Yes.” I sat up straighter. It felt rather like being addressed by a head mistress. I was all close attention and apprehensive smile.

“You’ve chosen rather an opportune time to visit us, Bailey, for many reasons.”

I waited to hear what the many reasons were but none was to be forthcoming.

She gazed beyond me. Her voice lowered. She seemed to speak to herself.

“Perhaps it will be for the best.”

I decided to risk it and took a gamble.

“Actually, although I may not have mentioned it already, I was rather hoping I might stay on here indefinitely.” I spoke with rash confidence. “If you’ll allow it, of course. If you and dad think I can be of service here at the hotel - make no mistake about it. I’m eager, and willing to learn. Reception. Administration. Clerical and secretarial work.” I gave a bluff little laugh. “Making beds, chambermaid. Assistant cook and bottle washer. You name it, I can probably hack it.”

She didn’t immediately take up my challenge. Instead, she chose to prevaricate.

“I’m afraid there are a number of issues at stake here, issues that need to be aired and discussed and dealt with, before any such decisions can be made.”

I moved in the chair, it rolled backwards. I used my heels as brakes.

“Issues?” I queried, rolling nearer to her and getting comfortable again. “What sort of issues?”

Her arms moved off the table, and it seemed as if she were trying to wash her face with her hands. Then she stared off again into mid distance.

“Not for me to divulge here and now, Bailey.”

Odd choice of word, I thought uneasily. Didn’t divulge mean a disclosure of private or sensitive information?

Besides, it had been her idea to ‘have a little chat’ with me. If this was her idea of a little chat, why was I doing all the talking? It was obvious there was something on her mind. Why not say straight out what was instead of
faffing about.

I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“So I will talk to my father,” I stated, “about these so-called issues.”

She nodded. She seemed relieved by my ready acquiescence. “Yes, do. Talk to Colin.”

I paused. “Max told me he broke his ankle. I suppose he’s got it in a plaster cast. Is he hobbling around on crutches, or confined to a chair? Will it be long before he’s up and about again? I imagine it can’t be easy running this place without him.”

Gwen picked up a pencil from the desk and began rolling it through her fingers. Watching her, I sensed that she was nervous. Well, that made two of us. These prolonged silences were beginning to make me feel jittery, too.

“What happened, Gwen?” I asked, deliberately making my voice gentler. “How did my father hurt himself?”

Gwen sighed, and swivelled her head to gaze at me. “It happened last week. We’d gone out together. I was driving. He doesn’t drive any more, for…for various reasons. I’d stopped and just parked the car. Being too proud, he wouldn’t wait for me to get out and go round to help him, and he stumbled as he got out. He must’ve misjudged the height from the car or maybe just caught his toe on the ledge. Anyway as he stepped out his foot twisted and gave way. He fell badly. At first we just thought he’d wrenched it, or it was a bad sprain. But we took him to hospital anyway. The x-ray showed up a fracture.”

“Accidents happen.”

“It’s happened before.”

I frowned. “He’s broken his ankle before?”

She shook her head. “The stumbling and falling over. It’s happened before. He’s tripped over on a number of occasions.” She paused. “And it’s not down to clumsiness or poor paving.”

“What’s it down to then? He’s hardly an old man yet, not even seventy yet.”

“His eyesight has been deteriorating for some time.”

I blinked. “I didn’t know that.”

She shrugged. “How could you?”

“I’ve always thought of him as being always been so strong and vigorous.”

“People change over time.”

I began to worry that I might’ve inherited some gene from him which could affect my eyesight too. Who in their right mind didn’t fear blindness?

I wet my lips. “Is that the problem? Is he going blind?”

She didn’t reply.

“Gwen, why can’t you simply tell me what’s wrong?” I blurted out. “Why do you have to put me through all these guessing games?”

Just then there was a light tap on the door. Gwen said enter, and the receptionist, Anne, came in bearing a silver tray. She put the tray on the desk and left as quietly and silently as she’d come in. She was undoubtedly the most unobtrusive servant to have around.

“Eat something, Bailey,” Gwen said, and picking up a delicate, porcelain mug, she sipped at her hot chocolate. She didn’t look at me but flipped open the lid of the laptop and turned her attention back to the screen.

I decided to do just that so I shook out the white, starched napkin and laid it on my lap. Then I picked up one half of the chicken sandwich. It tasted fresh and wonderful, but I found I wasn’t really hungry after all and managed only a couple more bites before I laid the sandwich aside and picked up the cup of tea. I sipped the hot liquid. It was good and strong, but I had to suppress a yawn as I drained the contents. The long day had taken its toll on me at last.