The Turtle Run (43 page)

Today was as good a day as any to start painting. Her mother was at her part-time job at the pharmacy and Joe was at the garage. She only had to go round one more corner to reach home but she had to set down the paint cans for a moment to give her arms a rest. As she picked the cans up again and rounded the corner, she noticed a car outside the house – nothing posh. It looked like a standard saloon with the logo of a car rental company on the rear screen. Drawing nearer she thought the profile of the man sitting in the driver's seat looked familiar. He looked up and got out hurriedly.

‘Becky!'

‘Alex? What are you doing here?'

‘I was sent over to the UK with a list of messages to do.' He grinned. ‘Oh, they look heavy. Do you want a hand with them?'

Becky nodded and they took a paint can each and went into the house.

‘Is your mother here?' asked Alex in a hushed tone as they put the cans down in the hall.

‘No, she's actually much better. She's been able to go back to work.'

‘That's good.'

‘So Matthew still has you flying over to the UK?'

Alex looked at her and made a glum face. ‘Never mind. One of my chores – though one of the nicer ones, I must add – is to reunite you with the things you left behind.'

‘Did I?' Becky had subsequently realised she had forgotten her toothbrush but thought she had managed to grab everything else.

‘There were a couple of items,' said Alex, vaguely. ‘And there were a few things Clara or Matthew meant to give you as presents, which obviously they couldn't, um, under the circumstances.'

‘That's sweet of them but not at all necessary. Are they in the car?'

‘No, they're in the Magsab house. They were shipped over with some other stuff and I haven't had a chance to sort it all out yet.'

‘What on earth is the Magsab house?'

‘It's about, I don't know, thirty miles from here.' He frowned. ‘I think Matthew said you'd been there. It's got a lake, if that helps?'

‘Oh yes. I only know it as Noak Hall.'

‘Magsab is our name for it. I'll explain on the way.'

‘On the way?'

‘If it's not too inconvenient it would be easier to take you there now, pick up what you want and then I'll give you a lift back here.'

‘Are you sure? I don't want to put you out.'

Alex grimaced. ‘I would like to get something right for a change. And besides I need the chance to make you a proper apology.'

She looked at him. He had his perpetual appearance of sleep deficit but he looked much better than when she had last seen him; his eyes and skin had lost their previous pink blotchiness. ‘No need to apologise. I guessed what happened.'

‘Right, I see. Even so, I'd like to fill you in on all the details as we drive,' said Alex, taking a step towards the front door. ‘Matthew knows he owes you a major apology too. Now where is it?' He patted down his pockets before retrieving an envelope from his coat and handing it to Becky.

Becky opened it and read the note inside.

Dear Becky,

I'm going to leave it to Alex to explain the background to my very unfair accusation that you'd helped the Carringtons with the bid. The irony is they are now in a panic about cashflow and have already approached me to see if I'm interested so all's well that ends well.

I wish you would reconsider coming back to Barbados. You are being missed very much by everyone and I hate the fact we didn't say a proper goodbye. I'll try and remedy that when I'm next in the UK and will ring to see if you are free for a meal.

Very best wishes,

Matthew

P.S. Alex will reunite you with the items you left behind and will also pass on some presents my mother and I want you to have.

P.P.S. If you don't accept the presents, I will fire Alex. So no pressure.

Becky laughed. ‘Still got his sense of humour, then.'

‘It's not been obvious these past few weeks,' said Alex.

‘OK,' she said. ‘Let's get this over and done with.'

He breathed a sigh of relief and Becky realised he'd doubted whether she'd go with him. She picked up her rucksack, locked the front door and they went out to the car.

‘I apologise now if I crunch the gears,' Alex said, letting her in. ‘This isn't the normal model I rent.'

It was typical of him to put himself down; once they set off he drove quite competently. Anyway it was nice to see Alex again even if it was funny hearing a Bajan accent in Essex. She realised how much she'd missed the sing-song lilt. And despite wanting this ‘over and done with' she also wanted to know how everyone was at Copper Mill.

‘How's Zena?'

‘Absolutely fine except she keeps asking where Becky is. We don't think she had more than a spray of that furniture stuff. It was just the initial burning in her mouth that made her so upset.' Alex glanced at her. ‘I put Matthew right about the milk business. Francesca was acting like God's gift to first aid. I'm afraid it got on my nerves.'

‘I'm sure she loves children,' said Becky, sweetly.

‘Mmm,' said Alex. ‘I'm sure she would love Matthew to think she loves children. But then if she thought Matthew was interested in, I don't know, bee-keeping she'd appear with a beehive on her head.'

Becky laughed.

‘I also put him right about the party. You remember – the birthday party was Francesca's idea until she realised that Matthew was shattered and not enjoying it at all. Then suddenly it became your idea. Apparently she only went along with it because she felt sorry you hadn't had a chance to meet anyone in Barbados.'

‘How sweet of her.'

Becky looked out of the window. In just fifteen minutes the urban sprawl of her dormitory town had petered out into Essex fields – like a lumpy patchwork quilt dotted with the odd farmhouse. The golden wheat fields that had been evident when she left England for Barbados had been replaced by acres of ploughed brown earth. It was only a gentle ache but she missed the little Barbados roads winding through verdant meadows.

‘I don't think Matthew was ever fooled by Francesca,' said Alex. ‘Not since he was a teenager, anyway. But I'm afraid he was fooled by Richard Carrington.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘You know it was my fault? About the bid?'

‘Yes,' said Becky.

‘I didn't tell deliberately of course. Derek Carrington was very devious. It was the end of an extremely trying day – a few problems with some difficult guests. Derek was complimentary about the food and insisted we have a drink in the bar later. We had quite a few drinks in fact. He said they'd already put in their bid and named a price ridiculously low. It became a game testing my reactions as he mentioned different bid prices. I don't know exactly what happened to be honest but I know that at some point I as good as came out with the actual figure.'

‘Why did Matthew just assume it was me? Apart from his inability to trust anyone he didn't go to school with, obviously.'

‘After what happened with Chris he's had to relax that rule. Anyhow Richard knew which buttons to press. From what Matthew told me, when they were waiting at the hospital for news on Zena, he bumped into Richard and congratulated him on the Carringtons' successful bid. Then Richard said he had had inside help and Matthew should be careful about the people he shared information with. All true of course but there was something in Richard's manner; he managed to make it sound like pillow talk.'

‘What?' cried Becky.

Alex looked at her shyly. ‘Apparently he implied you two got it on before his friendly visitors arrived.'

‘I knew he was a spoilt brat but I didn't realise he was dishonest.'

‘You have no idea of the rivalry between the two of them – I suppose between Matthew and all the Carrington brothers, though it seems most personal with Richard. He's very jealous of Matthew because he knows he would be useless without his family fortune or his older brothers whereas Matthew …' Alex didn't finish the sentence.

‘Are you still overworked?' asked Becky. ‘I mean that was the real problem, wasn't it? You always looked so tired.'

Alex looked at her. ‘And I was silly about the alcohol. I was drinking just to try and get to sleep at night. It wasn't great. Especially for my wife.'

‘So have things got better?' asked Becky.

‘Definitely. I already had an assistant manager, a man called Clarence, who is more than capable but rather under-used. Matthew has finally accepted that I can't be the manager and his right-hand man; it was like having two jobs sometimes. So Clarence gets promoted and I can concentrate on being Robin to Matthew's Batman.'

Becky laughed. ‘And how's Clara?'

Alex sighed. ‘She really is missing you. You know I probably shouldn't say it, but …' His voice drifted away.

They had left the A12 and were winding along the B-roads.

‘You've got to say it now,' said Becky.

‘I'm sure she was very sincere about writing a book but I can't help wondering if it was actually you she wanted.'

‘Me?'

‘She's really fond of you. I think she genuinely believed that the history of the Redlegs should be told but I also suspect she had a bit of a fantasy that you and Matthew would get together.'

‘I wouldn't have guessed that.' Though now Becky thought about Clara's reluctance to focus on the book it would make sense.

‘Francesca turned up every day after you left, even when Matthew wasn't there. I think she was hoping to get in with Clara. Anyway she made the mistake of criticising you and according to Maureen Clara got quite indignant. Apparently she told Francesca: “Becky's the only daughter-in-law I would welcome.” Francesca didn't take that so well.'

‘And – if you don't mind me asking – you explained about the bid to Matthew?'

‘Of course. It was uncomfortable, shall we say. But he didn't shout; didn't even get angry. He just looked, I don't know, beaten.'

Becky felt a pang of sympathy for Matthew. She couldn't imagine him looking beaten. Exasperated, tired, even haggard, yes – but never beaten. But she did remember his irritation when he thought people weren't acting efficiently.

‘So he really wasn't angry with you?'

‘No. He was just very, very angry with himself.'

‘Why? Because he'd accused me?'

‘Definitely that but something more as well. He didn't put it into so many words but I think what staggered him was realising he still had a bit of a hang-up about his start in life. Even though he's more competent than all the Carringtons put together. It can gnaw away at you, you know?'

They turned into the long tree-lined drive she had travelled down with a taxi driver in what felt like a previous lifetime. She saw the lake with its shining face lying in a sward of immaculate lawn dotted with clipped shrubs that looked like stalled Daleks.

‘Go on then. Why do you and Matthew call Noak Hall the Magsab house?'

Alex grinned and turned the wheel to bring the car into the parking area at the side of the house. ‘It stands for Meet and Greet, Schmooze and Booze. Sometimes it's better to entertain clients here than in the hotel.'

Becky sighed. Matthew had hinted at this in Barbados. ‘So Matthew's lovely house is purely for business?'

Alex looked at her, surprised. ‘It's not his house as such. He does have a stake in it but it's basically owned by a syndicate of companies. Matthew leases it back when it's needed. Other companies do the same. It's in use most of the time. A wonderful woman called Mrs Collie somehow manages to run it all.'

Her socialist taxi driver would have approved and so did Becky but she still felt a twinge of disappointment. Another fantasy balloon popped.

They got out of the car and walked round to the front of Noak Hall, both pausing to admire the stately solidity of the building. As if on cue smoke started drifting out from the chimneys.

‘Alex, is it booked at the moment?'

‘Yes, but it's fine. I've cleared it with Mrs Collie. It's booked for something later but we're not going to be long.'

They walked up the steps and across the courtyard to the ornate front door, which must have been unlocked as Becky noticed Alex just turned the handle to open it.

She followed him into the grand hall, obsessively wiping her shoes on the mat, and stared up at the high ceiling. She also peeked in the enormous living room where a log fire crackled discreetly in a walk-in fireplace.

‘It all looks very inviting,' she said.

‘Have a quick look at the dining room,' said Alex. ‘Then we must go upstairs.'

He pointed out the doorway of another room and Becky stuck her head in. Ornate wallpaper stared down at a huge table covered with the whitest linen cloth on which silver cutlery gleamed. Clearly important guests were expected. Sumptuous smells wafted through from the kitchen. Becky could visualise Mrs Collie hurrying around getting everything ready.

‘We'd better crack on,' said Alex. ‘This way.'

Becky hurried up the carpeted stairs after him. She really did not want to bump into Mrs Collie and have to explain what she was doing at Noak Hall again.

From the landing she followed Alex into an impressively long corridor. ‘Your things are in here,' he murmured, pushing open the first door on the right. Becky walked through and almost gasped. The bedroom – if you could give the huge room such a mundane name – had a king-sized bed covered with an abstract-patterned quilt in charcoal grey and burgundy. Rather incongruously her bathroom bag and her book about the Monmouth Rebels lay in the middle of it. Surely Matthew hadn't paid to ship them across the Atlantic? But as she got nearer the bed she could see beyond the bag and the book was the beautiful black bandage gown, in a cellophane wrapper, and next to it several more in the same style, except these were in new wrapping. The thin-strapped black bra had winged its way across the sea as well, which rather embarrassed her; had Matthew personally packed it? Next to it was a beautiful small velvet box.