No More Secrets

‘I enjoyed it,’ said Cassie firmly, and handed over a card. ‘That’s my business card, but my home address is on it. We’ll look forward to seeing you—Angus adores having guests.’

Kate hurried back to the bookshop, deep in thought. She very much doubted that Ben Fletcher would be equally delighted to welcome her to lunch. But she would go because she really liked Cassie. Besides, Sundays tended to drag unless the weather was fine and she could go out walking. An invitation to lunch wasn’t to be sneezed at.

It was almost seven that evening before Kate locked up the shop. As she checked everything was secure, and took a last look at the ‘Book of the Month’ display in the window, a figure appeared beside her, reflected in the glass, and Kate swung round in surprise. ‘Mr Beaumont!’

‘No. That’s my father. I’m Dan.’ He grinned at her, the black eye giving him a disreputable air that was at odds with his designer tailoring. As the wind blew along the street he drew the collar of his dark overcoat up and took her arm. ‘I thought I’d walk you home, not only to collect my car, but also to cast myself at your mercy again.’

Since Kate was holding his spectacular flowers in the crook of her free arm it seemed rude to refuse. ‘What’s your problem this time?’

‘The same one. After all the drama last night I forgot my grandmother’s glasses. For pity’s sake find them for me so I can send them off at first light, or she’ll cut me out of her will!’

‘I doubt it,’ said Kate, shaking her head. ‘But please hurry—I’m cold and hungry and I’ve got a lot of work to do.’

‘Tonight?’ he said, crestfallen. ‘I was hoping you’d have dinner with me.’

‘Sorry. Exams looming.’

‘What are you studying?’

Kate explained. ‘Which doesn’t give me much time,’ she concluded. ‘When I took my English degree I was younger—and I wasn’t working. This time it’s more of a struggle. But I’ll get there.’

Dan expressed his admiration in extravagant terms. When they arrived at the Lodge he unlocked the door for her, switched on the light and stood leaning in the doorway of the sitting room while Kate ran the spectacle case to earth.

‘Eureka!’ she said, finding it behind a pile of books on one of the tables. ‘So your finances are safe after all.’

‘I was joking about the will,’ he said stiffly.

‘Of course.’ Kate smiled. ‘And now I must put these gorgeous flowers in water. Thank you again. I hope the eye mends soon.’

‘Let’s talk about dinner again. Surely you don’t work every night?’

‘No. Two nights I go to classes, one night I go to the cinema, and the others I either study or read, or even watch television.’

‘Dinner on Saturday, then,’ he said firmly.

Why not? thought Kate. ‘All right, I will. Thank you,’ she said, and ushered him to the door.

‘I’ll pick you up here. About eight.’ Dan looked around him. ‘And by the way, leave a light on in the day to come home to, Kate. My grandmother’s security needs scrutiny. I’ll talk to the old man.’ He leaned down suddenly and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Kate.’

Kate closed the door on him and went upstairs with her flowers, oddly pleased with life and better disposed towards her homework than usual. Which, she admitted to herself, was due more to Cassie’s invitation than Dan Beaumont’s. She finished sooner than expected, ate a virtuously meagre supper to offset the indulgences of lunch, and was about to run her bath when the phone rang.

‘Miss Harker?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ben Fletcher. I gather Cassie’s bidden you to family lunch on Sunday. I’ll pick you up just before one.’

‘Please don’t trouble yourself—I can walk.’

‘It’s a fair hike if it’s raining. I’ll give you a lift.’

‘How kind,’ said Kate coolly.

‘Not in the least. And have no fear — I’ll be the perfect gentleman. I saw Dan Beaumont’s black eye, remember. It filled me with respect.’

‘A pity it doesn’t extend in other directions,’ said Kate impulsively, and could have bitten her tongue.

There was a pause. ‘I haven’t a clue what you mean,’ said Ben Fletcher rather grimly. ‘I’ll pick you up on Sunday.’

CHAPTER THREE

DURING the week Kate tried hard to think of some excuse to avoid lunch with the Fletchers, but in the end couldn’t bring herself to lie to Cassie. At least she had Saturday night to look forward to first. Dan Beaumont was irritatingly sure of himself, but he came with impeccable references, since Mrs Beaumont was his grandmother. However, the moment she got home on Friday evening Dan rang her, his voice almost unrecognisable.

‘I hoped this blasted flu would clear up,’ he croaked, ‘but it obviously won’t before tomorrow night. I’m an aching, coughing misery. Sorry, Kate. Can we get together next week instead?’

‘Of course,’ Kate assured him. ‘Get well soon.’

‘You needn’t sound quite so cheerful,’ he complained, wheezing. ‘I hoped you’d be devastated with disappointment.’

‘Oh, I am, I am. I’ll curl up with a good book instead.’

‘That makes two of us,’ said Dan bitterly, then went into a paroxysm of coughing before he gasped goodbye.

The extra Saturday staff made it an easier day for Kate, and she arrived home to find the lights blazing downstairs and Mrs Beaumont back in residence, waiting to buttonhole her about Dan’s nocturnal intrusion.

‘Idiot boy,’ she said severely, her smile belying the words. ‘Just like Dan to forget I share the house now. He should have come in during the day, not crept in at night, scaring you to death. Splendid black eye you gave him,’ she added with satisfaction. ‘Served him right.’

‘I thought I’d killed him,’ said Kate, grimacing.

‘No fear. His skull’s too thick,’ said Mrs Beaumont, then spoiled it by saying, ‘Lovable rascal, though, young Dan.’

‘A very poorly one at the moment.’

‘Yes. I gather he’d coaxed you to spend the evening with him. But he’s caught this bug that’s going round. He’s gone home to mother for some tender loving care.’

‘Sensible man. I shall catch up on some reading for Monday’s class instead.’

‘See you for coffee in the morning?’ said Mrs Beaumont.

‘Yes, please. Then I’m going out—bidden to lunch with Cassie Fletcher and her family. The one who writes thrillers.’

‘How splendid for you, dear. You’ll enjoy that.’ Mrs Beaumont smiled. ‘You like books so much it’s a wonder you don’t write a novel yourself.’

Kate was in agreement as she made supper for herself later. The incidents of this week alone would provide her with enough material, not to mention her experiences in Putney in her previous existence.

After mid-morning coffee with her landlady next day Kate went back upstairs to do rather more to her face than usual. Cassie Fletcher, pregnant or not, was one of those long-legged people who wore clothes well. When one was short of inches—vertically, anyway—dressing needed care. Kate, yearning to be ten pounds lighter, finally put on well-polished brown boots, a cream silk shirt, a full, ankle-length skirt in brown needlecord and a long waistcoat in oatmeal mohair. Her hair, thick and straight, and gleaming from its recent shampoo, she caught behind her ears with tortoiseshell barrettes and let the rest hang down her back for once. Five minutes before Ben Fletcher was due she went down to display her sartorial splendour to Mrs Beaumont, glad she was being collected when she saw that the rain was now flattening the shrubs outside in a steady downpour.

‘What a day!’ said Mrs Beaumont, eyeing Kate up and down. ‘And what a transformation. You look lovely, my dear. What have you done to your face?’

‘Gilded the lily a bit,’ said Kate, smiling, then looked up as a horn hooted outside. ‘That’s my lift. See you later, Mrs B.’

Kate shrugged into her raincoat, collected the azalea she’d bought for Cassie and put up her umbrella to race down the path to the Range Rover backed into the cul-de-sac. As she reached it the door was flung open and a hand extended to help her up. Kate put the azalea into it, collapsed her umbrella and leapt up into the front seat unaided. Ben Fletcher put the plant on the back seat, looked at her for a moment, then said, ‘Good afternoon,’ with no trace of his usual smile.

‘Good afternoon. Filthy day,’ said Kate brightly. ‘It’s very good of you to collect me.’

‘Not at all.’ He put the vehicle into gear and nosed it out of the narrow road. ‘It’s not far, but in this weather you’d be drenched long before you got there.’

They continued in silence, Kate finding it impossible to think of anything to say. At this rate, she thought gloomily, the lunch party was likely to be hard work.

‘Did you enjoy yourself last night?’ said her companion abruptly.

Kate frowned. ‘Last night?’

‘Dan told me you were dining with him.’

‘I was, but he’s ill. Flu.’

‘Really? I was away on Friday. I didn’t know.’

‘You work with him?’

‘I work at his father’s firm, yes.’

‘Oh.’

‘You look very different today,’ he commented as they drove past the pump rooms.

‘My Sunday best,’ agreed Kate.

He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘It’s the hair. You look years younger with it down like that.’

Kate eyed him suspiciously, but he went on to discuss the weather.

‘You must regret your move to Pennington when it rains like this.’

So Cassie had mentioned her transfer from London. ‘It rains everywhere.’

He drew up before a tall Georgian house in a row of others of equal elegance in a square on the outskirts of the town. ‘Right. Here we are. I’ll get out first and put your umbrella up, then I’ll come back for the plant. I assume it’s for Cass?’

‘Yes. It’s very kind of her to invite me.’

‘She likes you,’ he said, in a tone which implied he felt rather differently. He leapt lightly from the vehicle, looking so good in a waxed jacket and heavy sweater, his long legs in well-worn cords, that Kate gave a little sigh, wishing he weren’t quite so overpoweringly good-looking. It was hard not to respond to the sheer perfection of his face, especially now, when he was in repose, without the smile which raised her hackles so easily.

Ben Fletcher reached up and put a hand at either side of her waist to lift her down, handed her the umbrella, then reached for the azalea and locked the car. ‘Right, then, Miss Harker, let’s dash.’

They sprinted up the steps to the door, which opened at their approach, and a small boy hurled himself at Ben, who scooped him up, laughing. Kate raised a mental eyebrow. Ben Fletcher was obviously fond of his son.

‘Quiet, you monster. Hello, Caroline; this is Kate Harker.’

A tall, fresh-faced girl shook hands with Kate. ‘I help with Angus,’ she said, with a friendly smile.

‘And with everything else,’ put in Cassie, coming along the beautiful, elegantly furnished hall. She wore a voluminous dress in finest wool the colour of almond blossom, and looked elegant despite the bulge. ‘Welcome, Kate. Come on, everyone, upstairs so we can have a quiet drink before lunch. Mrs Hicks says half an hour.’

Kate handed her the plant. ‘What a lovely house!’ Cassie exclaimed with pleasure over the delicate pink and white striped blossoms. ‘How very sweet of you. I adore azaleas. Angus, have you said hello to Kate?’

‘Hello,’ said the little boy, beaming. ‘I had chickenpox. ’

‘Goodness,’ said Kate with suitable awe. ‘Did you really? How nasty. I bet you itched a lot.’

Angus nodded, deeply pleased, then tugged at Ben’s hand. ‘Come on. I did painting.’

Kate, enveloped in warmth and welcome, felt oddly homesick for a moment. This might be a very impressive house, but it was also very much a home. They went upstairs and delicious scents of cooking wafted towards them on their way along the hall to what was obviously the family sitting room. No formal drawing room, this, like the room glimpsed downstairs, but a place where people read papers and books, watched television and played with Angus, whose toys were strewn all over the floor.

‘Sorry about the obstacle course,’ said Cassie, and went over to a drinks tray. ‘What would you like? We’ve got the usual things, plus some rather delicious white wine.’

‘A glass of that would be perfect,’ said Kate, choosing a corner of a big sofa. ‘What a comfortable room.’

‘And messy,’ chuckled Cassie. ‘I work upstairs on the top floor, and leave this place to the others. Though I’m off work at the moment. Can’t sit at my computer.’

‘I should hope not,’ said Ben, looking up from a complicated structure he was helping Angus make from plastic blocks.

‘Beer, love?’ said Cassie.

‘Yes, but sit down. I’ll get it.’

Ben uncoiled his long legs, then held out a hand to Angus. ‘Come on, champ. Let’s see what Mrs Hicks has made for pudding.’

When the two women were alone Cassie complimented Kate on her appearance.

‘Better than the other day, then,’ said Kate, grinning.

‘Much better. I was rude.’

‘No. I admit I don’t make the best of the basic material much. So today I thought I’d make an effort. How are you and little miss Emily today?’

‘She’s gone a bit quiet,’ admitted Cassie, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Only a fortnight to go, though sometimes I wonder if she’ll hang on that long. Angus arrived sooner than I thought. Still, the hospital’s just up the road, thank goodness.’

Thank goodness indeed, thought Kate.

‘So what’s been happening in your life since I saw you last?’ asked Cassie, and rather to her own surprise Kate found herself describing Dan Beaumont’s break-in and her own part in it.

Cassie roared with laughter. ‘Goodness, poor Dan! Ben told me he had a black eye, but I didn’t realise you gave it to him.’

‘It was pure fright coupled with luck,’ said Kate, grinning. ‘I let fly and managed to make contact.’ She pulled a face. ‘I thought I’d killed him at first.’

‘Serves him right for creeping around at night like that,’ said Cassie without sympathy, then smiled as Angus came running back into the room. ‘Hello, darling; is lunch nearly ready?’

‘Ten minutes,’ said Angus importantly, and fixed Kate with bright blue eyes. ‘Can you read?’ he asked hopefully.

‘What he means,’ said his mother, ‘is will you read.’

‘With pleasure,’ said Kate promptly. ‘What story would you like?’

Angus was a handsome little boy with a mop of brown curls like his mother and bright blue eyes which shone with pleasure as he fetched a book about trains. He was dressed very simply in a sweater, jeans and small suede boots, and Kate had to restrain herself from hugging him as he sat beside her on the sofa listening to the story. Cassie sat quietly, watching them, a smile on her face. There was no sign of Ben or Caroline, and Kate lost herself in the story, suitably dramatic when the occasion demanded, her performance obviously meeting with approval as Angus drank in every word. When the story finished he thanked Kate without being prompted, then looked at his mother.

‘Is it ten minutes, Mummy?’

Cassie consulted her watch. ‘Oh, yes. It is. Will you run upstairs and call Daddy?’

Angus nodded happily and scampered off, then Caroline popped her head round the door.

‘First course ready and waiting, ladies.’

‘Right you are, Caro. Give me time to heave myself up.’

Kate leapt to give Cassie a hand, then followed her from the room to a dining room. The table was laid for five with gleaming crystal and silverware and a flat centrepiece of miniature daffodils and freesias.

Caroline cast a glance over the table, checked the soup tureen on the hotplate at the end of the sideboard, then smiled at Cassie. ‘Right, then, I’ll be off now. See you in the morning. I’ll get my kiss from Angus on the way out.’

‘Enjoy yourself,’ said Cassie, then looked up with a smile as a tall, dark man entered the room with Angus. ‘Hello, darling; finished your paper? This is Kate Harker, the lady who organised my signing session the other week. Kate, this is my husband.’

‘Alec Neville,’ said the distinguished newcomer, shaking hands with Kate. ‘I gather you’re new to Pennington. Thank you for looking after my wife. I had to get Ben to deputise for me that day. I was operating.’

‘Alec’s a plastic surgeon,’ explained Cassie to a temporarily speechless Kate. ‘Angus, can you find your uncle, please? Tell him lunch is ready. Alec, will you open more wine?’

Kate ate delicious vegetable soup in a daze, trying to pull herself together and behave like a guest. One who might even be asked to visit this delightful household again if she was very, very lucky. Angus was seated between his parents, Ben next to Cassie, and Kate next to Alec Neville, who was an attractive man in his mid-forties and very obviously devoted to his wife. Cassie gave Kate a few searching glances, but once they’d embarked on the roast, and Mrs Hicks, the cheerful cook, had been paid sincere compliments and bidden an affectionate goodbye before she went off for the day, Kate had come to terms with her mistake and was able to contribute to the conversation.

Both men were amused when Cassie told how Dan Beaumont got his black eye.

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