She had started a new novel on the flight but had only read two chapters. The story so far was far-fetched; the main character had begun to irritate her. She wondered if she was actually going to finish it. The writer had a good reputation, but Di felt she was trying too hard. There was just too much happening for the story to ring true. Di's mind wandered and putting the reader down, she examined her surroundings.
The hotel had begun life as a family home for the wealthy Chalcot family from England. The large house occupied a prominent position in the middle of the estate, and Di supposed the family money came from the rubber which was always in demand. Now the estate had diversified, like so many other businesses, with a hotel.
Beyond the pool, Di could see a building which resembled an English summer house. Built in brick and glass it was topped with a green-tiled roof which matched that of the main house. Despite its obvious English beginnings, the green tiles definitely gave an oriental feel to the place.
Restless with her tedious and unreadable book (she had now decided), Di thought she would go for a walk and explore more of the grounds. The day was heating up fast and she was glad she had remembered to bring her straw sunhat. She had suffered from sunstroke before, and Steve would be annoyed if she was careless again.
Following a gravel path meandering between neat flower-beds, she eventually arrived at the summer house. A shallow flight of steps led to a small patio with a large brick barbeque in one corner, and at the back of this paved area there was a pair of closed glass doors. Trying the door handle, she found they were unlocked. Inside, she saw a row of wooden table and chairs neatly stacked against a side wall, suggesting that the place was used as a function room for parties and private lunches.
"My father built this place on a whim. He really wanted a folly, but the local architect and builders couldn't or wouldn't understand what he was aiming for, so he ended up with this. We use it for wedding breakfasts or birthday parties, but mostly it's ignored. No air conditioning you see. I suppose I could get round to having it fitted, but it's hardly worth the bother."
Turning, Diana met those grey, appraising eyes again. She was standing just inside the doorway and Di couldn't understand how she had failed to hear her footsteps on the gravel outside.
"I think it's lovely. I've always fancied a place like this, but we haven't the room and like you, I doubt we'd use it enough to justify the expense."
"Oh, Father didn't worry about expense. If he wanted something, he just took or bought it."
Di couldn't help recognising the touch of bitterness in Miss Chalcot's voice. She felt a frisson of excitement well up within her. She just knew there was some mystery concerning this family and place. "About those papers you mentioned yesterday, would you like me to take a look sometime?"
"Yes please. When would be convenient? I realise this is a holiday for you but--"
Much more interested than twenty-four hours ago, Di interrupted her, "How about now?"
~~~~~
Diana was surprised on entering Miss Chalcot's private study; the room was out of keeping with the rest of the light and airy house. It was dark and sombre, more masculine than feminine. Old English hunting prints adorned the walls, together with a collection of photographs which Di supposed were family portraits. An enormous desk took up almost the entire right-hand wall with a huge chair behind it. Set into another wall were French windows which led to a partitioned balcony. Because of the sloping lawn, this part of the building was higher than the rest and the balcony was set some feet from the ground, not high enough to deter determined intruders, but enough to give a lofty view of the grounds.
Casting an eye round the study, she noticed a photograph of a beautiful blonde woman in her wedding gown, while another portrayed a tall brunette with striking good looks. Amongst these, there were various poses of children at different stages in their lives. Di couldn't discern how many there were or to whom they belonged and she didn't know her hostess well enough to comment or ask.
Ignoring Diana's obvious interest in her family portraits, Miss Chalcot indicated Diana should join her at her desk. "Here you'll find some interesting reading no doubt," she said, casting a hand over a pile of slim, leather-bound volumes lying on the polished wood.
Diana turned from the photographs and walked over to join her. Picking a book up at random, she flicked open the pages exclaiming, "Why, it's a diary!"
"They all are," Miss Chalcot agreed drily.
Diana looked up at her words. "So what exactly would you like me to do with them?" she asked. She turned over another page, noting the small, neat handwriting. "Are they yours?"
"Um no, not really, mostly they're my mother's. I would like you to write them into a book. It doesn't have to be a biography. In fact, I'd prefer it to be written as a novel. Can you do that?"
"Ye-es. It depends on the content and whether it catches my interest."
"Oh, you'll find it interesting enough. There's plenty to get your teeth into."
"But why? Forgive me, but why me? Why don't you do it yourself?"
There was a pause. Miss Chalcot looked away, and Diana noticed a spasm cross her face before she replied.
"Because I don't have time. When I recognised your name on the booking form, I took it as a sign. I knew you for an acclaimed author of repute and considered you the best person for recording our story."
"I appreciate that. I am flattered you consider me worthy. But this is about you. I think if you write it, with your family name and everything, it will sell better."
"I'm neither interested in selling nor marketing it, and I've just told you I haven't the time."
"I understand, time is precious and I'm busy too..." Di's voice trailed away as she caught the stricken look on Miss Chalcot's face.
"You don't understand." Again there was a pause. "I'll pay you handsomely. I just don't have time, full stop. Perhaps not even a month."
Shaken, Diana felt a shock pass through her as she realised what she was saying.
"I have untreatable pancreatic cancer, and the doctors and surgeons have done all they can. This is important to me. I have this yearning for the complete family history to be recorded accurately and put in order. It should have been done years ago. I should have done it, but I let the years slip by and want to put things straight while there is still time."
Diana didn't know what to say. She was embarrassed by her earlier reticence to help the woman. "I'm very sorry. That's such awful bad luck. An uncle of mine had the same and he lived for four years after the treatment, maybe you--"
"Maybe. But for now they've told me to expect the worst. I was stupid and delayed seeking medical help when I had the first symptoms. Now I'm to pay for my stupidity. It is nobody's fault but my own, and I'm prepared for my death, but first I have to put one or two things straight."
Realising Miss Chalcot had made up her mind; Diana knew she would take no advice from a stranger. Diana recognised her as being strong-willed, stubborn and used to having her own way.
"Okay. So if I take this project on, am I to understand that you want me to make a story from your family's history?"
"No, I want you to take it from my mother's entry into the Chalcot family when she married my father up to the final diary entry. You'll soon get the gist."
"May I ask? Are there any other members of your family still living?"
Again, there was a brief pause. "I have a sister. She lives in England."
"I see." Diana did. From Miss Chalcot's terse reply, Diana guessed there was some bad feeling between them, and as she obviously wasn't going to say anything else at that time, Diana had to ignore it.
"Well, I'd better make a start. I'll read through the diaries and give it some thought."
"We haven't discussed your fee yet."
It was Diana's turn to pause while she thought. "Let me have a read-through first. If I like the idea and consider I have the makings of a creditable novel, then we'll talk about it."
Diana felt
she
had to keep control of the situation. Miss Chalcot was educated and strong-minded. It would be all too easy for her to completely dictate terms on her home turf. Diana was her own woman and would not let herself be bullied. She didn't need the work, but she was interested enough to read about this mysterious woman and her life.
She had a sudden premonition that these diaries were likely to wake some sleeping dragons……………………...
Click to buy “Children of the Plantation” from Amazon
Excerpt from “The Surgeon’s Blade” by Faith Mortimer
The Surgeon’s Blade
Prologue
Playing this game was a major enjoyment. It had been played many times before, and this time, it was proving even more of a thrill.
The watcher spotted her immediately. She was seated at a table for two, and from the number of times she had glanced at her watch, it was obvious she had been stood up by her date. The watcher was cautious by nature and covertly observed the woman from a chosen seat which was half-hidden in the shadows behind a potted palm. She was one of those women in their thirties who looked attractive in a quiet, unassuming way and could have been stunning if she had spent more time over her hairstyle and make-up. Her dress was an off-the-rail model, most probably from one of the departmental stores and in a different colour would have enhanced her appeal. Unfortunately, the dull fabric did nothing for her hair and skin colouring.
The watcher had seen her many times around the hospital and knew who she was. She came across as confident and sure of herself as far as her work was concerned.
She now sat alone and forlorn, casting wistful glances at those couples who sat with bent heads sharing a whisper and promise of the night to come. Minutes later, she answered a call on her mobile phone with nervous girlish pleasure, but her face paled in distress as she replaced it into her evening bag. The watcher knew instantly how easy it was going to be and smiling coldly, raised a glass with a slight movement in her direction and offered a silent toast.
Why waste time yearning over a date that would never show when your prayers have been answered, dearest girl, the watcher demanded silently. From now on, you’re mine, all mine.
Chapter 1
Three o’clock. The dead hour. It was the rain lashing against the window that woke Libby. Cursing under her breath, she glanced at her clock on the bedside cabinet and contemplated the day ahead: nearly three-thirty. She must be mad! At the end of June, the weather really should be fine. ‘Flaming June’, they called it. Well, there hadn’t been too much flaming lately. This was the fourth day in a row of seemingly endless downpours. Dratted weather! Well, she was committed to today’s race, and there was nothing she could do but put on a smiling face.
Less than an hour later, showered and dressed, Libby had a quick breakfast of toast and tea and headed for the door. Her cat followed her and meowed loudly as Libby put on her jacket. The fluffy pale ginger cat was obviously thinking her mistress was quite mad, not only for disturbing her slumber at this untimely hour, but for leaving the flat on such a cold and wet day. She sat on the rug looking quite put out.