The Family Affair Read online

  “Well that’s because the inquest said it was an accident,” Beth said, clearly exasperated. “But I’ve never believed all of the facts.”

  “What do you mean?” Lottie asked, her maternal instinct kicking in.

  “I just think he was alone when he died,” Beth said, feeling good to be saying these words finally to people who might know something to confirm her darkest fears.

  “What you mean? Who was he supposed to have been with?” Matt interrupted.

  “My brother died in the old swimming pool on a scorching hot August day at Highlands,” Beth continued. “He was nearly four years old and the pool was not that big. He was supposed to be under the supervision of my Uncle Richard. It’s just never added up as far as I am concerned.”

  “Um,” Lottie interrupted putting her knife and fork down. “We’ve heard lots of things over the years but no-one has ever mentioned anything other than what has been reported in the press about the accident.”

  “The only significant thing to add though,” Matt said, picking up from where his wife left off. “Is that we felt a real sadness around the pool when we moved in. Can’t you remember Lottie? And when we found out about Alistair it all clicked into place.”

  “Well as his twin,” Beth reiterated firmly, “I just have always somehow known he was alone when it happened. That’s one reason I visited my Uncle Arthur for lunch today. You know, to see if he could shed some light on things. And the other reason was to find out why Dad died a pauper.”

  “Do you think your Arthur knows something about the accident you don’t?” Lottie asked.

  “I am convinced he knows much more than he’s letting on,” Beth continued. “But I realised today when he refused to say anything that, even if he does know, he will take his secrets with him to the grave.”

  “I suspect he just doesn’t want to get involved,” Matt conceded. “So much water has gone under the bridge since it all happened.”

  “I suspect you’re right,” Beth said. “Over lunch he behaved as if he just wanted to forget the whole thing. I felt like I had really disturbed his day and that both him and his wife wished I had never shown up.”

  “Interesting,” Matt concluded. “So what you seem to be suggesting is that Richard was not present when your brother drowned and that he was absent without leave?”

  “Yes,” Beth answered. “I have recurring thoughts and images, or I’m not sure what to call them, of my brother dying and my Uncle not being there.”

  “God, how awful for you,” Lottie interrupted.

  “It is pretty grim,” Beth nodded. “Mum warned me not to speak about it to Dad’s remaining relatives because none of them would talk. But if she won’t talk about it and they won’t then who the hell am I supposed to be able to talk about it to?”

  “You’ve got a point if that’s how you feel,” Matt said. “And you’ve got a right to know the truth. Let’s finish supper and go back to Highlands and finish off our conversation there if that’s something you’d like to?”

  “I’d love to,” Beth shouted out excitedly. “I haven’t been back for a lifetime.”

  “Great,” Lottie exclaimed. “We found a few things that belonged to the Earnshaws, when we did the renovation so, if nothing else, it would be good to give those back to you. We’ve been waiting for someone to claim them for years.”

  CHAPTER 12: HIGHLANDS REVISITED

  Going through the large oak wooden door at Highlands felt as if time had stood still for the past twenty years. It was a different door and a different house and yet there was something about it that Beth recognised which still lived on.

  “Come on through to the Orangerie,” Matt said, as he strode down the large hallway with Molly, the faithful King Charles spaniel, chasing around his feet in circles. “There may be something in here that you recognise.”

  Beth followed on behind, trying not to trip up over the dog, her heart pounding as they walked into a huge glass domed-shaped conservatory filled with olive and lemon trees lit by expensive looking lamps that automatically switched on as they entered the room.

  “This picture over here may bring back some happier memories for you,” Matt said triumphantly, as he walked over to a walnut dresser and turned around to hand it to her.

  It was a black and white photo she instantly recognised. “My God,” Beth exclaimed, her eyes scanning the grainy image of her father as a young child, her grandfather and her great grandfather all facing the camera and smiling. “Where on earth did you find this?”

  “Incredibly,” Matt replied. “It was one of the few things that survived the fire in the main house. It was inside a vintage picnic basket wrapped up tightly in a beautiful woollen rug. It had a miraculous escape.”

  Beth continued to look at the photo in silence. She slowly traced her fingers over the familiar faces staring back at her from underneath the photo frame – each of them blissfully unaware of the tragedies which lay ahead and where the line of inheritance would stop.

  Charles Earnshaw looked strong and confident as he stood proudly next to Doug, his eldest son, the one who should by birth have been his rightful heir.

  “It’s so incredible to see this again,” Beth replied, unable to prise her eyes from the picture. “It used to have pride of place in the main sitting room. This line up of three generations was how it was supposed to be.”

  “Yes,” Matt nodded thoughtfully. “I can see your point. Well it’s yours now. One for the photo album you’re going to put together.”

  “And that’s not the only thing that survived you might be interested in,” Lottie added. “If you come through to the gardens we’ll take you to the summer house we had built. We keep a few other things in there that belong to your family.”

  As Lottie opened up the French windows, Beth breathed in deeply before stepping into the magical gardens of her youth. The faint perfume of spring at Highlands was exactly the same as she always remembered it.

  Sophisticated floodlights illuminated the extensive grounds which were edged with huge clumps of daffodils in all the places Beth remembered, enabling her to quickly get her bearings. Immediately she started to walk towards the herb garden.

  Stooping down she allowed her hands to gently rake over the top of the soil, and to inhale the stillness of the night air which carried with it the gentle smells of over-wintered lavender, mint and thyme.

  A sudden and uncontrollable desire to dive deep into the earth in search of her brother’s soul took hold of her. How many times had she wished she could end it all in this very spot and simply disappear like he had done?

  And yet over the past couple of days since returning to Ketpon tender green shoots of hope had started to emerge, due almost entirely to the fact that she had met a Frenchman who seemed to be in as much pain as she was.

  A man whom she was most disconcertingly becoming very attached to, and how she wished he was with her now in the gardens of her youth.

  Conscious that Matt and Lottie were standing behind her, Beth turned around to face them with silent tears for the life she and Alistair could have had.

  She had nothing but love for these people who now lived in her family’s home and yet she felt a burning anger inside. It was a deep rooted feeling that had never been healed and when she opened her mouth the most piercing scream came out.

  Falling forwards into the herb garden, she felt Matt’s arms around her waist as he struggled to pull her upright whilst Lottie smoothed her hair and fussed over her with words.

  “Ok, so this may not have been the best idea,” Matt said, as Beth came up for air.

  “No,” Beth replied, struggling to sob and talk. “It probably is. I’ve needed to come back here for years to mourn my brother. I’ve kept so much hurt inside for too long, it‘s been slowly killing me.”

  “You have to let whatever you are feeling out,” Lottie advised her quietly. “If you want to be alone
just tell us. If you want us here by your side that’s also fine, and don’t beat yourself up. You’ve experienced unbearable loss. Scream as hard as you want to.”

  “I’m happy for you to stay with me,” Beth replied gratefully. “Wherever he is, Alistair is not here and this place isn’t mine. It’s just that the sad memories are overwhelming.”

  “All these feelings are totally understandable,” Matt added. “Especially here at this spot.”

  “I know,” Beth said. “That’s why I fell forwards. It’s where he died. Difficult as it is to be here, I needed to come and stand in this spot to remember him.”

  Lottie reached out a hand and Beth took it, grateful for the support. Starting to feel more grounded, she eventually let it go and walked towards the fabulous white Magnolia.

  Despite the dampness of the longish grass, Beth sat down and leant her back against the familiar cool trunk of the tree and closed her eyes.

  How many times had she dreamt of doing this again? And to be able to do it now in a moment of weakness gave her an extraordinary and unexpected feeling of strength.

  “There were quite a few happy photos taken of us as a family of four under this tree,” Beth said, smiling up at Matt and Lottie as they wandered over to join her. “When we lived here it was Dad’s favourite place in the garden. It’s where he read the paper.”

  “I know - this tree has got an amazingly calming quality and it’s got the best view of the garden,” Lottie agreed. “It’s where Molly likes to sit and play. I hadn’t realised you’d actually lived here.”

  “We lived here when Alistair and I were born, and at around that time Dad was starting to get more involved in the business,” Beth said remembering. “After the accident we stayed on for three or four years but it just became too difficult, so we moved away to Harrogate.”

  “I can totally understand why your parents felt they couldn’t live here in the end,” Lottie nodded sympathetically. “They just wouldn’t want to be reminded.”

  “We still visited at Christmas and on special occasions,” Beth continued. “But once my grandparents died and Uncle Richard moved in with his family we never returned.”

  “What a great shame,” Matt said. “When you had such strong connections with the place, it must have been very tough just to never come back.”

  “Yep,” Beth sighed, finally standing up as her head touched one of the lower branches of the Magnolia tree. “But it was just one in a very long line of sad things that happened in my life. And I know how tragic that must sound but it’s true.”

  “Hard on all of you,” Lottie replied, shaking her head at the sadness whilst linking arms with Beth. “If you feel up to it I want you to come up to the summer house. I’d like to show you the other mementoes.”

  “Of course,” Beth said, suddenly perking up. “It seems so strange that both Dad and Uncle Arthur didn’t bother to reclaim anything after the fire.”

  “Well there were only a few bits and pieces, and they were well hidden,” Matt interjected as they walked down the garden together. “The developer had wanted nothing to do with them. We tried to contact the family through the solicitors but we never heard back and we assumed they just wanted to wash their hands of the whole thing.”

  “They must have done if they didn’t even want photos,” Beth said, taking her shoes off so she could walk on the garden in her bare feet just as she used to do as a child.

  “Yes it did seem strange,” Matt replied deep in thought. “Maybe it was for the best. Cutting ties with the past can sometimes be the only way to face the future.”

  “I suppose so,” Beth nodded. “But, however tough it is for me to come back, you can’t imagine how helpful all this is. I simply never imagined I would be able to walk through these gardens again, for a start.”

  “Well do it as much as you want to,” Matt answered, as he opened up the summer house and walked straight over to a large cupboard. “Where did we put the photos Lottie?”

  “They were definitely in the cupboard last time I looked,” Lottie replied.

  “Did you find more?” Beth asked excitedly.

  “Yes,” Lottie answered. “We found a few in the old swimming chalet. For some reason we didn’t feel it was right to put them up.”

  “And, interestingly, the photos in the old swimming chalet were all wrapped up in exactly the same way as the one we found in the main house,” Matt said.

  “What we don’t know of course,” Lottie continued, “is why these family photos were packaged up like that? It’s as if someone hid them on purpose and didn’t want them to be found.”

  “And just to add to the intrigue,” Matt interjected whilst opening up a second vintage picnic basket, “all of the photos had one common identifier. They all had your father in them.”

  “Have you any idea why someone may have wanted to parcel them up like that?” Lottie asked Beth.

  “It almost certainly had something to do with Uncle Richard,” Beth replied bitterly. “I always wondered how he ever lived with himself after he moved in here and took all the money. Maybe he had a conscience after all.”

  “But why go to the trouble of binding them all up in woollen throws and putting them into vintage picnic baskets?” Lottie reasoned, standing up and handing Beth another photo. “It just doesn’t make any sense. He could have just thrown them out.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Beth exclaimed, all thoughts of wrongdoing vanishing as Lottie handed her a photo she had not seen for years.

  “Isn’t this a photo of your parents with you and Alistair under the magnolia tree?” Matt asked, walking over to them as Beth continued to stare at it.

  “Yes,” Beth whispered. “This is one of only a small number of photos that was ever taken of the four of us all together. My parents are unrecognisable. They look so happy.”

  “We made a decision early on that we should keep all the photos in case anyone ever wanted them back,” Lottie smiled. “And I’m glad we did but we’d started to lose hope that anyone would.”

  “You must take all the throws and the picnic baskets as well,” Matt added. “We’ve loved having them and wondering how they came to be here, but they belong to you.”

  “Thank you,” Beth said. “I can’t tell you how much finding these again means to me.”

  “There is something else we inherited on your behalf. It’s a mini-loom that belonged to your family for generations,” Lottie said, pointing to an old-fashioned weaving loom in the corner of the summer house.

  “It’s a beautiful piece,” Matt added, as he walked over to it. “It came from your grandfather’s mill.”

  “Wow!” Beth exclaimed, as she wandered over to the loom and touched it. “This is amazing. I remember now. It sat in the hallway in the old house. It was sometimes used as a clothes horse.”

  “According to a local historian it dates back to when the mill first opened,” Matt interjected. “When you’ve got the right transport and you want to come and pick it up you just need to give us a call.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Beth said, feeling overwhelmed. “In the space of one short evening I’ve acquired more family mementoes and information about Highlands than I’ve had in my entire adult lifetime.”

  “Well if we go back to the house we can have a night-cap and try and see where we go from here,” Matt smiled, as he ushered them both out and locked up the summer house.

  “I think one of the most beautiful things about restoring a house like this,” Lottie began, as they wandered over the grass together back to the Orangerie, “is that you find out so much about other people’s lives and you can hand back really precious memories at the right moment.”

  “This is so the moment,” Beth laughed. “You’ve not only restored some of my family possessions back to me, you’ve also restored my faith in human kind. So many people take, but to receive these things back is beyond my wildest dre
ams.”

  “Right, both of you take a seat and put your feet up,” Matt ordered as soon as they got inside the house. “We’ve got a full bar so what can I get you both?”

  “I‘ll have whatever you’re both having,” Beth said, suddenly feeling in need of a pick me up. “It definitely needs to be alcoholic to celebrate finding the photos and for having the good fortune to meet you both.”

  “Why don’t you open a bottle of champagne darling?” Lottie said to her husband, as she slumped into a huge comfy sofa next to Beth. “It’s been such a special evening we need to recognise it in the right way.”

  “Splendid idea,” Matt replied. “If you give me a few minutes I’ll dig out the best bottle we’ve got and bring it over.”

  “I feel like I’m in some kind of dream,” Beth said to Lottie as Matt fixed the drinks in the kitchen. “I never thought I would come back to the house again. But to be able to return and take my time to discover it again has been so precious.”

  “Well it’s lovely for us too,” Lottie replied smiling. “I’m so glad Olivier had the bright idea of putting us all in touch with each other. He is such a special guy ... if only he wasn’t so hung up on his ex-wife. That man deserves some happiness just like you.”

  “Yes,” Beth smiled nervously, looking tentatively at Lottie as she spoke. “He also happens to be amazing looking too, I mean he is my ideal man but he’s impenetrable because of what happened to him with Isabel.”

  “Well if you like him,” Lottie giggled. “I’ll get Matt to speak to him when you’ve gone. I mean nothing ventured nothing gained is my view.”

  “Okay you can stop talking about me now,” Matt interrupted in a loud voice as he walked towards them with a silver tray and a bottle of champagne with three glasses on it. “This should taste good. We’ve been waiting for the right occasion to open it. And this certainly feels like the right one.”