Innocent Sins

‘I got back about half an hour ago,’ Oliver interrupted her quickly. ‘I was going to ring you, but—well, things came up.’

‘What things?’ Natalie was not placated.

‘A phone call from my mother,’ said Oliver, taking a bite from his sandwich. Then, chewing rapidly, he added, ‘She’s been trying to get in touch with me, too.’

‘Are you eating?’

Natalie sounded outraged and Oliver swallowed before attempting to speak again. ‘Yeah,’ he said resignedly. ‘I’m just trying to fortify myself for the journey. I’ve got to drive down to Penmadoc tonight.’

‘Penmadoc!’ Natalie gasped. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘I’m afraid I am.’ Oliver shook his head at Thomas when he mimed making him another sandwich. ‘My stepfather had a heart attack two days ago.’

‘Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Natalie was all sympathy now. ‘How is he? Is it serious?’

‘He’s dead,’ answered Oliver flatly. ‘That’s why my mother wants me to drive down there tonight. I am her only blood relative. Naturally she wants my support.’

Or did she? Oliver wasn’t absolutely sure what his mother wanted. She’d been decidedly strange when he’d spoken to her. Despite the years they’d spent together, he would never have expected Griff’s death to affect her so badly.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

Natalie was speaking again, and for a moment Oliver was tempted. But then he remembered Laura and his refusal was automatic. ‘I don’t think so, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Funerals are family occasions, as you know. And I’m not sure what the arrangements are yet.’

‘Will your stepsister be there?’

Natalie’s enquiry sounded innocent enough, but Oliver sensed her irritation. Ever since he’d mentioned the fact that his stepsister had brains as well as beauty, Natalie had resented her; which was ridiculous really when they’d never even met.

‘She may be there,’ he said now, evenly. ‘But, if she is, I’ll be the last person she wants to see.’

‘Do you expect me to believe that?’ Natalie snorted. ‘I haven’t forgotten what you told me about her flinging herself at you when she was hardly more than a kid!’

Oliver swore silently then scowled. He must have been drunk if he’d told Natalie about that. ‘You didn’t believe me, did you?’ he scoffed, striving to sound incredulous. ‘Come on, baby, I was only kidding. For God’s sake, it’s been over eight years since Laura and I even met!’

Natalie was silent for a moment, and then she said cautiously, ‘So she didn’t come to your room and get into bed with you?’

‘No!’ Oliver stifled a groan. He must have been drunker than he’d thought.

‘And your mother didn’t find out and threaten the pair of you?’

‘I’ve said no, haven’t I?’ Oliver knew he could do without this. ‘Come on, Natalie, I was only having a bit of fun. You’re so gullible sometimes, I can’t resist teasing you.’

‘You bastard!’ Natalie swore now. ‘You were so convincing. I thought it was true.’

‘So sue me,’ he said, desperate to avoid any further revelations. ‘Look, sweetheart, I’ve really got to get going.’

‘But what about the Rices’ party?’ Fortunately, she was easily diverted. ‘Couldn’t you come back tomorrow? Surely there can’t be that much you can do.’

‘Except be there for Ma,’ suggested Oliver drily. ‘I’m sorry, baby, but you’re going to have to go on your own.’

‘Don’t I always,’ muttered Natalie, not altogether truthfully. ‘Oh, all right. But you will ring me and let me know what’s going on?’

‘I promise.’

Oliver was relieved to escape so easily, but after he’d hung up the phone the images Natalie’s words had evoked were not so effortlessly dispelled. This was not the time to be thinking about Laura, he thought impatiently, or to be remembering what had happened that unforgettable summer night. Or why, instead of taking up his place at university that autumn, he’d left the country, spending a year trekking around Europe, trying to get what had happened out of his system.

‘You do realise it’s after six, don’t you, Mr Oliver?’ Thomas’s anxious tone interrupted him. ‘I’m sure it’s not wise to drive down to Wales tonight. There’s reduced visibility on the M4 and the motoring organisations are warning people only to travel if it’s absolutely necessary. Don’t you think your mother would understand if you—?’

‘Forget it.’ Oliver pushed away from the table. ‘As far as Ma’s concerned, this is an emergency. Besides, there’s always the chance that the weather could worsen. I don’t want to find I can’t get there tomorrow because they’re snowed in.’

Thomas shrugged. ‘Well, if you’re determined…’

‘I am.’ Oliver was adamant. ‘But don’t worry, old man. I won’t do anything rash. If I find I’m getting into difficulties, I’ll find a motel.’

‘You hope.’

Thomas wasn’t convinced, and Oliver grimaced at the negative vibes he was giving off. ‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think I’ve got enough to contend with without you jumping all over me as well?’

Thomas sniffed. ‘I’m only thinking of your welfare, Mr Oliver.’

‘I know.’ Oliver paused to give the old man a rueful look.

‘But I must say, this is the first time I’ve seen you so determined to obey your mother,’ he added peevishly, and Oliver’s lean face creased into a mocking grin.

‘That won’t work either,’ he said, looping the strap of his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘Now, I’ll phone you tomorrow, wherever I am, and I’ll give Stella your condolences, shall I? I’m sure you don’t want her to think you don’t care.’

‘I’ve already offered Mrs Williams my condolences,’ retorted Thomas indignantly. ‘Although I have to say she didn’t seem to want any sympathy from me.’ And then, because the affection he had for his employer was genuine, he said, ‘Do take care, won’t you?’

‘I will.’

Oliver patted the old man’s shoulder in passing, and then, after a regretful thought about the photographs he’d planned to process tomorrow, he picked up his keys and started for the door.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_00da7716-1d6b-5114-a216-d3c0f6b259a4)

LAURA shivered.

Despite the heat that was still emanating from the old Aga in the corner, the kitchen at Penmadoc was decidedly chilly tonight. The cold struck up through the soles of her mules and she wondered why Stella hadn’t had the stone floor removed and modern tiles installed in their stead. She could guess why, of course. The kitchen was still Aunt Nell’s domain and even Stella baulked at locking horns with her. Besides, she doubted if Stella ever entered the kitchen except to issue orders. Domestic duties and cooking had never appealed to her stepmother.

But it was a relief to find that some things at Penmadoc hadn’t changed when so much else had. Her father was dead. Impossible to believe, but it was true. Stella was the mistress of the house now. Laura was only here on sufferance.

Was it really only six months since she’d seen her father in London? He’d seemed as hale and hearty as ever, if a little more boisterous than usual. She’d put that down to his usual high spirits at seeing her again, but she wondered now if it had been a screen for something else. Stella had said that she’d known nothing about him having any heart trouble, but he could have been hiding it from her, as well.

Her stomach quivered. If only she’d known. If only she’d had some premonition that all was not as it should be. But although her grandmother had been a little fey, as they said around here, and had occasionally been able to see into the future, Laura never had. Whatever powers she’d possessed had not been passed on to her granddaughter.

According to her stepmother’s version of events, her father’s attack had been totally unexpected. He’d apparently been out riding earlier in the day. Although he hadn’t been a member of the local hunt, he’d always enjoyed following the hounds and, despite the fact that snow had been forecast, he’d ridden out that morning as usual.

Then, also according to Stella, he’d arrived home at three o’clock, or thereabouts, and gone straight to his study. She’d found him there a couple of hours later, she said, slumped across his desk, the glass of whisky he’d been imbibing still clutched in his hand.

Laura expelled a trembling breath. She hoped he hadn’t suffered. When she’d spoken to her boss at the publishing house where she worked in New York, he’d said that it was the best way to go. For her father, perhaps, she thought now, but not for the people he’d left behind. Aunt Nell had been devastated. Like Laura herself, she could see the writing on the wall.