Innocent Sins. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
on the phone. ‘Drive carefully.’
The line went dead and Oliver replaced his receiver with a troubled hand. A heart attack! As far as he knew, Griff had never had any problems with his heart. But what did he know? In the twenty years since Griff had married his mother, they’d hardly become bosom buddies, and although age had brought a certain understanding between them they’d never been really close.
There was still so much he wanted to know. Was Laura coming home for her father’s funeral? Of course, she must be. She hadn’t come home when her marriage to Conor Neill had foundered, but that was different. Her work was in New York. She’d made a niche for herself there. Why would she come back to England, or, more precisely, Wales, when she had a perfectly good job in the United States?
His lips twisted. Naturally, Stella had been relieved that she hadn’t returned to Penmadoc. The last thing she’d wanted was for her stepdaughter to come back and form an alliance with her father against her. Oliver couldn’t deny that Stella had always been jealous of the relationship Laura had had with her father. And Laura had never forgiven his mother for replacing Maggie less than a year after her mother’s death.
‘I’ve laid out some clean clothes in your bedroom, Mr Oliver.’ Thomas spoke somewhat diffidently from the doorway, evidently cognisant of the disturbed expression his employer was wearing. ‘I assume you’ll be taking a shower before you leave?’ he added. ‘I’ll have some coffee and a light meal ready when you come downstairs.’
Oliver flexed his shoulders. ‘Just a sandwich, thanks,’ he said wearily. ‘I had something to eat on the plane, and I’m not really hungry.’ He paused before saying gratefully, ‘But the coffee would be welcome. Is there plenty of fuel in the car?’
‘I expect you’ll use the Jeep?’ Thomas arched an enquiring brow and Oliver nodded. He owned a Mercedes, too, but the four-wheel-drive vehicle was obviously the safest choice tonight. It wasn’t the weather for breaking the speed limit, and he was likely to run into some really nasty conditions after he crossed the Severn Bridge.
By the time he’d had his shower and dressed again, it was dark. The short winter afternoon had given way to a bitterly cold evening and he wasn’t looking forward to the long journey into Wales. Downstairs, Thomas had the promised coffee, and some soup as well as a sandwich, waiting. ‘Just to warm you up,’ he said apologetically as Oliver came into the kitchen.
Thomas’s own apartments were in the basement of the building. Oliver had his darkroom there, too, and on summer evenings Thomas sometimes served his meal in the sheltered charm of the walled garden at the back of the house. Tonight, however, the paved patio was a transparency in black and white, the reflection in the windows of the room behind giving the scene an eerie beauty.
The phone rang again as Oliver was drinking the soup, and this time Thomas had no hesitation about answering it. ‘It’s Miss Harlowe,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece with his fingers. ‘Do you want to speak to her, or shall I tell her you’ve already left?’
‘And lie about it?’ mocked Oliver drily. Then, taking pity on the old man, he held out his hand. ‘I’ll speak to her,’ he said, deciding he owed Natalie an explanation of where he was likely to be for the next few days. ‘Hi, sweetheart. It’s good to hear your voice. Have you missed me?’
‘Do you care?’ Oliver stifled a sigh at the realisation that Natalie was angry with him, as well. ‘I’ve been expecting you to call all afternoon. I rang the airport and they said your plane had been delayed, but—’
‘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