Your Secret's Safe With Me Read online

  As I suspected, when I cornered Freddy that evening, my reasoning fell on deaf ears.

  ‘Oh, come on, Becs, what’s your problem?’ Freddy argued. ‘Don’t you want to see Max’s house? It’s massive apparently, way bigger than Rivermede, with all mod-cons. Kimmi says we can use the pool. Why don’t you want to come? Got something better to do, like sitting on your own in that flat all evening like Billy-no-mates?’

  I had visions of the Playboy Mansion. Were guests expected to bring swimming costumes, or was it going to be skinny-dipping all around? If I drove, I would have to stay sober, and therefore any likelihood of being tempted anywhere near the pool, or Max, would be remote.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Nev’s going to give us a lift,’ Freddy said when I made the suggestion.

  ‘And how are we going to get home?’

  ‘He’s going to pick us up. We just call him when we’re ready to leave.’

  ‘What if we don’t want to leave at the same time?’

  ‘It’s only a couple of miles away. You could walk it if you had to. Nev can take you home first and come back later for me.’

  ’What makes you think I’ll want to come home first?’

  ‘Ha-ha.’

  I gave in. It was better to be with Freddy than let him loose on his own. As usual, I was letting my imagination run riot. Nick had cast too many doubts into my mind and I needed to look at things logically. Heather and Neville had been employed to look after a single, elderly gentleman, it was no wonder they were disgruntled when the household had increased to four. It could well be I was reading far too much into what I’d overheard in the shrubbery. Perhaps they had a holiday planned in Spain, which was why they were anxious to be away in a few weeks’ time. And why wouldn’t they be friendly with Max? He was a neighbour.

  Pearl could hardly contain her excitement as I prepared to get ready on Saturday evening. There were only so many times I could send her packing from my door. Eventually it was easier to relent and let her sit on the end of the bed.

  She couldn’t resist the opportunity to advise on my clothes, ‘so that’s what you bought that dress for…’; my hair, ‘up, darling, definitely suits you better up’; and my shoes, ‘has to be heels, darling, wedges will never do’.

  Freddy’s party attire consisted of black drainpipe jeans, Converse, and a badly tie-dyed T-shirt.

  Nev was on the drive at the dot of 7.30pm to deliver us to the van der Plaast residence. It was a cloudy evening with a distinctly damp nip in the air and probably not the summer party weather Kimmi had been hoping for. Fairy lights were strung from the trees that lined the van der Plaast’s impressively long driveway.

  There was no sign of the party girl as we drew up outside the house – vast, modern, and clad in trendy grey clapperboard. A bouncer, baring a startling resemblance to Nev although they didn’t acknowledge each other in any way, directed us to the back of the house where the party had spilled out onto the terrace.

  The garden was a stark affair compared to Rivermede’s lush natural wilderness. Max had opted for the minimalist look, with lots of ornamental stonework, slate, and gravel.

  A passing waiter offered Freddy and I a glass of champagne, but Freddy’s eyes were already searching the crowd. Kimmi was in the pool room, glass bi-fold doors pulled back onto the terrace.

  ‘You don’t have to keep me company,’ I told him. ‘Go on, run along and play.’

  ‘You sure?’ he asked hopefully. ‘I expect there’s some older people here somewhere that you know. Look, there’s Marguerite.’

  It was somewhat of a relief to spot a familiar but hardly friendly face. By her side, JJ pretended he couldn’t see me. The junior Robshaws stood chatting with Natalie and Pete. There was nothing like a teenage party to make anyone over twenty-one feel very old. If nothing else, we had our age in common. I wandered over. If it wasn’t for the fact that Rita was wearing another of her trademark all-in-ones, and JJ looked uncomfortably out of place in a simple grey suit, I might have thought guests had been asked to come in fancy dress. Pete, presumably in an attempt to blend in with the teenagers, was in leather trousers and sported a newly-acquired goatee beard, while Natalie was dressed as a wasp. Not many people could pull off horizontal orange and black stripes.

  ‘We didn’t know you knew Max?’ Rita greeted me.

  ‘I don’t,’ I admitted. ‘Freddy is friends with his daughter.’

  ‘Have you come along to act as chaperone?’ JJ sneered.

  ‘Oh no, I had my own invitation,’ I replied.

  Right on cue, a muscular tattooed arm draped itself around my shoulders like a predatory python. ‘I met Becca on a little walk the other day,’ Max said. ‘She was down by your boathouse, JJ. I insisted she accompany her brother. Kerridge is hardly party city, is it? It must seem very dull after London.’

  ‘I don’t find it dull at all,’ I insisted, trying but failing to shrug the arm off.

  ‘What were you doing down by my boathouse?’ JJ scowled.

  ‘I was just taking a little walk, exploring.’

  Rita fluttered her eyelashes at Max. ‘This is a lovely do. You’ve done Kimmi proud.’

  ‘Thank you, Marguerite, and you look as charming as always. I must go and circulate, I’m afraid. I see more guests arriving. I’ll be back for you later, Becca.’ He made it sound like a threat rather than a promise. To my relief, he headed off across the terrace.

  ‘Is it true you’re writing Stella Markham’s memoirs?’ Natalie asked. Both she and Rita were in sleeveless outfits; they must have been freezing. I still wore my lightweight beige mac, which completely concealed my very expensive little black dress.

  ‘Stella Markham?’ Rita looked puzzled. ‘From the pub? What’s she ever done?’

  ‘She’s only famous because of her husband,’ Natalie replied. ‘Remember him, Owen Markham, used to have his own TV show years ago.’

  ‘Oh, the cheffy bloke?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. Not been on TV for years now.’

  ‘I’ve met Owen Markham a couple of times at various sailing events,’ Pete said. ‘He’s a decent chap. Can’t you find someone more interesting to write about?’

  ‘Oh, I think Stella is quite an interesting character,’ I replied, feeling affronted on her behalf. I should have guessed there might be people in Kerridge who knew Owen Markham personally. Cowes was only a short hop across the Solent, and yacht clubs inevitably shared some kind of affiliation. ‘How much of Stella’s story are you familiar with?’

  Pete gave a shrug. ‘Well, not much, obviously, only what one heard at the time. We didn’t really want her joining the sailing club, to be honest, when she moved here.’

  ‘Goodness me, what did the poor woman do?’ Rita asked with a giggle.

  ‘She’s a lesbian,’ Natalie enlightened her. ‘Obviously that’s a severe breach of yacht club rules.’

  Pete puffed out his chest as if to make his point. ‘She brought the racing world into disrepute.’

  I was determined to stick up for Stella. ‘Her husband made allegations which were totally unfounded. She broke records when she won the Tri-Island race. I would have thought any sailing club would have welcomed her as a member.’

  ‘Her whole attitude after she won that race stank,’ Pete huffed. ‘Abandoning her husband and her children like that. We have to uphold moral values, you know.’

  ‘Of course you do, darling,’ Natalie murmured, helping herself to another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. JJ looked bored.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Are you still in contact with Owen Markham?’ I asked.

  ‘Our paths have crossed at a couple of sailing events.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know if his children are still on the Isle of Wight? Have you got any idea what they are doing now?’

  Pete shook his head. ‘I’m not sure about the daughter, but I have a feeling the boy might have gone into the police force.’

  Of course, I should have thought of that. If Tr
istram Markham was in the police force, it might well explain why he was as elusive to uncover online as Nick Quinlan.

  I could see Natalie and Rita were anxious to move onto a more exciting topic of conversation. I invented a need for the bathroom and headed off into the house, only to discover JJ following me.

  The interior of the house was just as stark as the garden. There was nowhere to hide in the large open plan living space, which was furnished for fashion rather than comfort.

  ‘We need to have a conversation,’ JJ said, as I attempted to take refuge behind a large slab of concrete imitating a piece of modern art. It reminded me of one of Freddy’s creations.

  ‘Well, that’s going to be difficult in here,’ I shouted. The monotonous beat of garage music was blaring out from the adjoining pool-room.

  ‘When are you going to put a stop to this fiasco of a wedding?’ JJ hissed. ‘I suppose you’ve heard the latest gimmick?’

  ‘I’m not a big fan of the owls,’ I admitted, ‘but Pearl’s already gone ahead and booked them.’

  ‘Owls? I’m not talking about bloody owls. It’s this stupid sailing flotilla thing. Anyone would think your mother was the Queen cruising up the Thames. Next she’ll demand a forty-gun salute.’

  ‘What do you mean sailing flotilla thing?’

  ‘They hatched it out last night when we were all at the yacht club. Pete was telling her all about the old regattas and how they used to have a torchlight dinghy parade past Rivermede, followed by a firework display. Your mother seemed to think it was a wonderful idea. Pete’s organising it for her. She’s making my father into a laughing stock.’

  For a moment, I almost felt a smidgeon of sympathy for JJ, but it soon passed.

  ‘Sadly, I’m not in charge of my mother,’ I informed him. ‘If she’s set her heart on having a torchlit yacht parade, a torchlit yacht parade she will have.’ I gave a hopeless shrug. ‘Let them be, JJ. She’s happy. Your father is happy. What’s so wrong with it?’

  ‘Wrong with it? Everything’s wrong with it,’ JJ replied, looking more desperate than angry. ‘Come on now, how long will it last? If it does go ahead, I’m making damn sure my father signs a prenup. You can tell your mother that from me. If she’s after my father’s fortune, she’s going to be in for a severe shock. She won’t get a penny.’

  I’d already assured JJ my mother was a wealthy woman in her own right, but it appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. It was on the tip of my tongue to retort that in light of his current overspending, there probably wouldn’t be a penny left for anyone to inherit. But before I could respond, Max was bearing down on us.

  ‘Hey, leave the little lady alone,’ he said to JJ. ‘What are you arguing about now?’

  ‘Her bloody mother,’ JJ muttered.

  ‘Ah, the new Mrs Robshaw-to-be,’ Max said, placing an arm around each of our shoulders, encompassing us into an awkward group hug. ‘I have a wonderful step-mother who keeps my father distracted and off my back. Listen and learn, JJ. Families should make love, not war. Come now, you two should be friends, not enemies, I insist.’ Max’s licked his lips, as if he was imagining some delicious ménage à trois.

  Max’s gesture of comradeship repulsed JJ as much as it did me, and he eased himself out of the huddle. ‘I’m going to get another drink,’ he growled.

  ‘Here, let me take your coat now that we’re in the warm,’ Max said, swivelling around to face me.

  Instinctively, I tightened the belt on my mac. ‘No, I’m not stopping actually, thank you, Max.’

  ‘You’re not? Why not? You are not enjoying my house, my hospitality?’ He put on an expression of mock disappointment.

  ‘It’s a fantastic house,’ I assured him, ‘but actually, I’m not in a mood for a party.’

  ‘It’s JJ, isn’t it? Behaving like a spoilt teenager. He’s worse than Kimmi,’ Max was already trying to undo the buttons on my coat. ‘Come on, relax, more champagne perhaps?’

  I slapped his hand away as playfully as I could. ‘Sorry, Max, I’ve got something I need to do.’

  ‘On a Saturday night? What else is there to do in Kerridge but our party?’ His laughter was drowned in the music as the door to the pool room swung open and a bikini-clad youngster shimmied towards us, demanding more champagne. With Max’s attention diverted, I was able to slither out of his reach.

  I thought he might try and stop me, insist I return, but he didn’t. In the pool room I spotted Freddy through the narcotic fog, reclining on a deckchair. I decided not to disturb him. He was a big boy and could make his own way home.

  I didn’t want to call Nev to come and pick me up; Pearl would be agog with curiosity if I arrived home too early. In fact, it would probably be a good idea to stay out for at least another hour. It was an easy walk to Rivermede and, despite the cloudy evening, still light. I decided to call in for a quiet drink at the first pub I came to on my way back through the village.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The White Heron was located at the junction of the lane that led from van der Plaast’s house and the road towards the marsh at Helme Point. It was totally off the beaten track and I couldn’t imagine how anyone, other than a local, would ever find it. Even on a Saturday night, its tiny car-park was deserted. There was no fancy beer garden, no board outside tempting customers in with deals of the day or menu of the week. The perfect hideaway.

  I pushed open the door. Two men propped up the bar at the far end of the pub; one was reading a paper while the other was studying his phone. Another older couple were playing dominoes. They were the pub’s only customers.

  Aidan nudged Nick. ‘It’s your friend again, Alex,’ he said. He gave me a shy wave and beckoned me over. Nick looked up and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Let me get you a drink,’ Aidan said.

  I ordered a white wine and pulled up a bar stool.

  ‘What are you doing out this way?’ Aidan asked. ‘Took my advice, then? Come out for a quiet drink?’

  I’d actually done the opposite, which would be quite apparent if I took off my coat. I was far too overdressed for The White Heron. It wasn’t just my dress, but my hair, the make-up, everything. Nick took it all in.

  ‘You look, er, nice, Rebecca,’ he remarked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. I wished I could return the compliment. Nick was looking scruffier than ever and his beard was beginning to compete with Aidan’s.

  ‘Were you able to mend Gerry’s pontoon?’ I asked Aidan.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, tried to do a proper job, but if it’s vandalism, not much you can do to stop it.’

  ‘What’s all this?’ Nick enquired.

  ‘JJ Robshaw’s got an awful lot of stock right now and it’s not moving,’ Aidan explained. ‘If he can increase the number of rental berths, it’ll boost his income. Moorings are at a premium on this river and Gerry Kimble is taking up a lot of valuable space. He wants the old boy moved on.’

  ‘Can’t he just evict him?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Gerry says he has a legal right to his mooring.’

  ‘But he doesn’t appear to have any paperwork to prove it,’ I added. ‘Or at least, he hasn’t shown anything to JJ yet.’

  Aidan looked puzzled. ‘So, you do know more about this,’ he said. ‘How come?’

  There was no easy way to break the news. ‘I’m staying at Rivermede,’ I explained. ‘My mother is marrying Jack Robshaw; Pearl Gates is her name. You might have heard of her. Gerald Kimble has been a topic of dinner table conversation.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Aidan frowned. ‘You could have said before.’

  I wondered if he meant the first time we’d met, or before he’d bought me a drink. My confession appeared to have killed the conversation. He folded up his newspaper. ‘Well, I said I was just popping for a quick half, so best head home,’ he grunted. ‘You walking back, Alex?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay for another drink,’ Nick replied.

  ‘You don’t have t
o stay,’ I said, when Aidan had gone.

  ‘Seems a bit rude to dash off when you’ve made such an effort to come out,’ Nick remarked. ‘I thought Aidan had taken a bit of a shine to you, but obviously now he knows you’re about to become part of the Robshaw clan, you’ve scared him off.’

  ‘If I had my way, I’d have nothing to do with the Robshaws,’ I insisted. ‘I take it he’s not a fan?’

  ‘I don’t think many people are,’ Nick replied. ‘Old hostilities, I think. JJ seems very good at rubbing people up the wrong way. Aidan has a bit of a past, apparently.’

  ‘Really? He’s so quiet.’

  ‘It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for,’ Nick said with a wink. ‘Anyway, aren’t you a bit hot in that coat, Becs?’

  ‘Don’t you start.’ Reluctantly, I loosened my belt. I was actually stifling in my coat. I saw Nick’s admiring glance as I revealed my dress.

  ‘Wow, you really did make an effort. Don’t tell me you’ve just come from van der Plaast’s little shindig? I thought that was just for teenagers?’

  ‘God, you really do know everything, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nick smirked. ‘Seriously? You were at van der Plaast’s? I told you to keep away from him.’

  ‘What I get up to in my own time really is none of your business,’ I pointed out.

  Nick held up his hands. ‘I know. Sorry, I might have overstepped the mark the other day, barging in on you like that. If I behaved erratically, I apologise.’

  I acknowledged his apology. ‘You were a bit scary,’ I admitted.

  ‘Sometimes I find it hard to switch out of work mode and behave like a normal human being.’ He smiled. ‘So, how was the party? It’s not even nine. Why did you leave so early?’

  ‘I wasn’t enjoying the company,’ I replied. ‘For a start, I was old enough to be most of the other guests’ mother. And then there’s Max. I admit I do find him slightly creepy.’