Just Rewards

Linnet had nodded to herself as she had replaced the receiver, thinking Jack was right.

Apart from Jonathan Ainsley, Paula’s cousin and the family’s bitterest enemy, Linnet was somewhat concerned about Evan. Thankfully she was all right, and there were no problems with the babies, but that curious fall still puzzled her.

Evan was the most nimble person she knew, and moved around with a unique kind of elegance and grace, and Linnet couldn’t for the life of her understand how Evan had missed the seat of the chair, hit the floor the way she had. It both baffled and bothered her.

Evan and Gideon had arrived at Pennistone Royal on Thursday, earlier than originally planned, and last night she had spoken to Evan about her fall when she and Julian had arrived and had supper with them.

Evan had laughed it off when Linnet had started to gently probe, and so she had let the subject slide away without making any further comment. What truly disturbed Linnet was the remembrance, so clearly etched in her mind, of Angharad standing over Evan in her office, looking down at her, doing nothing to help.

There had been such an odd expression in Angharad’s eyes Linnet had done a double-take, had given her a longer, harder stare, and had been discomfited when she recognized that Evan’s adopted sister was actually looking gleeful. Linnet had not failed to miss the inherent spite in her at that moment, and was enormously troubled by the strangeness of this young woman and her sudden appearance on the scene.

Angharad Hughes had not been due to come to London until next week. She bears watching, Linnet now decided, shrugging further into her cape, increasing her pace down the hill. I wouldn’t put anything past her … she spells trouble.

When Linnet had arrived at Pennistone Royal last night her mother had asked her to stay for the whole of the coming week, so that she could help with Evan’s wedding. ‘Evan can’t possibly do much, darling,’ Paula had pointed out. ‘She’s so very pregnant, and after that awful fall in her office, Emily and I don’t think she should be exerting herself, or doing anything physically stressful.’

Immediately, Linnet had agreed to stay on at Pennistone Royal to help her mother. They were close and always had been, and whenever she could ease Paula’s burdens Linnet tried to do so.

Earlier in the week, Linnet had considered talking to her mother about making certain changes at the store in Knightsbridge, but now she realized this was hardly the right time for such an important and delicate discussion. That must wait until after Evan’s marriage to Gideon next Saturday, only a week away.

The wedding was distracting her mother as much as it was Aunt Emily, mother of the groom. So how could she start bringing up old-fashioned windows that needed a fresh approach to suit the changing times? Or explain the importance of having a spa or suggest the innovative idea of devoting an entire floor to brides and weddings?

Surely her words would fall on deaf ears? Or if they didn’t, they would certainly irritate her mother no end. Paula seemed set in her ways these days, much to Linnet’s chagrin, and change appalled her.

Put it on hold, she muttered to herself, and continued on her way, heading closer to the walk. This had been created by her mother over thirty-five years ago or more, and she had designed it for Emma Harte. The Rhododendron Walk at Temple Newsam, a stately home near Leeds, had been the inspiration, and Paula had copied it down to the last detail, inveterate gardener that she was.

In the summer months it was quite extraordinary to behold, the glossy leaves of the rhododendron bushes alive with colour from the giant flowers … white, lilac and pale pink giving way to tints of dark-rose and purple. The flowery bower was breathtaking at that particular time of the year; now, in winter, the glossy green leaves were speckled with frozen snowflakes and tiny icicles.

At one moment, Linnet stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was forbidding, curdled and cold. The wind was beginning to blow the steel-grey clouds away and quite suddenly a pale sun was visible, a pale-silver orb against the expanse of blue floating above. She was used to the sudden changes in the weather in Yorkshire, especially in the Dales where she had grown up. Rain was prevalent throughout the year; but apparently, it wasn’t going to be a wet gloomy day after all, and this pleased Linnet.

Striding out, humming to herself, she began to enjoy her walk. But at the same time her busy mind was focusing once again on the Hughes family.

She was well aware that Uncle Robin would be upset and disappointed if Owen and his family didn’t stay with him. Robin Ainsley had discovered a new lease on life through the advent of Evan Hughes and her father Owen, his long lost son by Glynnis Hughes. Certainly he looked better than he had for several years.

On the other hand, the Hughes family presented problems all of a sudden, primarily because Jonathan Ainsley was in Yorkshire. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he resented the very idea of a half-brother in the shape of Owen Hughes. As Jack Figg had said, there was no telling what a loose cannon might do.

Jack Figg believed that Ainsley was dangerous, and she had to believe Jack, pay attention to him because he had rarely if ever been wrong, especially when it came to their security, the security of their homes and the stores.

Perhaps her mother would talk to Uncle Robin, instil some sense into him, make him understand his new-found family might possibly be at risk with Jonathan floating around. Yet Robin Ainsley was a stubborn man, and full of confidence about his own judgement. He had been a Member of Parliament for years, and he was a lawyer as well, although never practising. Still, he was an intelligent man, in fact a brilliant man, as his career in government attested. Would he listen to his great-niece, daughter of his half-sister Daisy, to whom he was close these days?

No, wait a minute, Linnet instructed herself. Unexpectedly, it had just struck her that the best person to tackle Robin was his other half-sister, Edwina. They had been especially close throughout their long lives, shared many secrets and problems. ‘Hand in glove,’ was the way her mother had described them recently, pointing out to Linnet that it was obviously Edwina who had helped to facilitate Robin’s long, ongoing affair with Glynnis.

That’s it, Linnet told herself, and immediately came to a snap decision. She would telephone Great-Aunt Edwina the minute she got home, and explain the situation in detail. Paula might be head of the family, but Edwina was the eldest of them all at ninety-five. Furthermore, she still had all her marbles, as Linnet was well aware. Even more importantly, she had immense clout with Robin. To her he would listen, and he would accept her advice, Linnet was convinced.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that Great-Aunt Edwina wouldn’t be at Niddersley House now. When she had spoken to India at the Leeds store yesterday, her cousin had told her she was taking Edwina for lunch at Dusty’s house.

At this moment, India would be driving her grandmother to Willows Hall near Harrogate.

Drat, Linnet muttered to herself, and pressed on along the Rhododendron Walk, formulating a plan as she strode out. She would phone Willows Hall after lunch and talk to Edwina then. And she had no doubt that Great-Aunt Edwina would be delighted to jump into the fray. She had always had the demeanour of a British general commanding his troops, and loved to boss everyone around, especially her siblings.

Julian Kallinski stood at the window of the bedroom at Pennistone Royal which he shared with Linnet, looking out across the lawns.

They were covered in hoar frost on this icy Saturday, and the dark, skeletal branches of the trees were dripping long icicles which looked like miniature stalactites. The whole scene resembled a painting in grisaille, the black and white tints strikingly beautiful against the backdrop of the pale sky.

In the distance he could see Linnet coming down the Rhododendron Walk, returning home, bundled up in her favourite cape. It was bright red and she was hard to miss even from this distance.

A smile struck his mouth and his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife. Wife, he thought, she’s my wife.

He suddenly wondered what he would have done if Linnet hadn’t come to her senses, if she hadn’t ended their silly estrangement.

No, not their estrangement. Hers, actually, from him.

He had never felt estranged from her, only puzzled by her strange behaviour, and achingly vulnerable to her.

After several months of their being apart he had forced the issue, forced her to see him by taking charge of the situation, and not taking no for an answer.

Fortunately, he had chosen the right moment, and she had come back to him willingly, lovingly. And during her emotional and physical capitulation to him, in the searing heat of their mutual passion, she had told him she loved him and only him, and she had finally agreed to become his wife at last.

But what if he hadn’t become assertive because of his frustration, annoyance and anger? None of that might have happened. What if none of those words had ever been said? By him and by her. What would he have done ultimately? How could he have continued his life without her by his side?

It would have been difficult, most certainly, even trying, because their families were so intertwined. He and she might break up, but they would be constantly thrown together.

The three clans of Hartes, O’Neills and Kallinskis had been part of each other’s daily lives for well over a century, since the day Emma Harte, Blackie O’Neill and David Kallinski had met and become best friends in the early years of the twentieth century in Leeds. And they had remained friends until their deaths.

Exile, Julian thought. I would have had to exile myself. I would have had to leave England, go to New York, and run the American end of Kallinski Industries. That would have been the only solution. It would have been dreadful, heartbreaking, a miserable existence. And my life would have been empty and banal without her, without my lovely, red-haired Linnet by my side.

But he wasn’t without her. They were married now, and had been for over five weeks … Married just as they had planned to be married since their childhood … Their dream of marital bliss together had come true in the end.

Smiling to himself, filled with happiness, Julian turned away from the window and went over to the desk in the corner. As he passed the old Queen Anne chest he caught sight of their main wedding picture in its silver frame.

He paused, staring at it for a moment. It was the big family portrait with himself and Linnet in the centre, and surrounding them were the rest of the family. His parents, her parents, her grandmother, Daisy and Great-Aunt Edwina, and the two grandfathers, O’Neill and Kallinski, respectively. And there were their siblings and cousins and the aunts and uncles. The three clans in full force.

Julian focused his attention on his grandfather, Sir Ronald Kallinski, who had managed to stave off death in order to attend their marriage. But sadly he had died in his sleep three days after their wedding, just when he and Linnet had arrived in Barbados for their honeymoon.

His father and her parents, and Grandfather O’Neill in particular, had insisted they did not come back to England for the funeral.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted that, Jules,’ his father had said to him, speaking in his firmest voice. ‘He was thrilled to see you and Linnet married, overjoyed to know the three clans were united in marriage. “All mixed into a lovely stew,” he said to me at the reception. And he was finally able to let go. He died peacefully in his sleep, and he was a happy man. We’ll bury him quietly, and I’ll start planning his memorial service. You’ll both be here for that.’

Julian had told his father he wanted to help with the plans for the memorial, and Michael Kallinski had agreed that they would do it together. ‘Remember, he was in his nineties.’ His father had then added, ‘And he had a great life, a big life. He was ready to go, he was ill. And tired, really. But as I said, a happy man because of you two. So, enjoy your honeymoon, and goodbye.’ His father had then hung up, and Julian knew that all his father had said was correct. To go back would be silly, under the circumstances.

Linnet had been loving and consoling, full of sympathy, proffering wise words, and she had helped him to get through a few truly sorrowful days. And finally, after much discussion, they had wisely taken the advice of their families and remained in Barbados.

Moving away from the chest, sitting down at the desk, Julian thought of the coming week. He was going to be at the Leeds office of Kallinski Industries, and he would greatly miss his grandfather’s presence there. For the past six months or so, Sir Ronnie, as he was called by everyone, had made the Leeds offices his headquarters, no longer fit enough to travel to London.

Naturally his considerable influence was everywhere, from the wonderful Post-Impressionist art and the Barbara Hepworth sculptures in the lobby to the coolness of the upper floors. Sir Ronnie had always insisted that the air-conditioning was turned on, no matter the time of year. He liked his working environment to be cool, which was why many of the women employees tended to refer to Kallinski House as ‘the frozen North’, and ‘Iceland’.

Julian looked across at the door as it suddenly flew open, and his reflective expression was obscured by the bright smile which readily settled on his face.

There she was, his beautiful Linnet.