The Family Affair Page 8

  “Well it’s almost your lucky day,” Olivier replied, getting a flask out of his rucksack. “I’ve got enough coffee for both of us and I also packed a few freshly made macaroons, but no moelleux I’m afraid.”

  “That’s not a problem. Macaroons are my second favourites,” Beth said, looking more than pleased that he’d brought them. “What a coincidence. I nearly didn’t stop the car but in the end I decided to get some air and sit on this rock for old times’ sake.”

  “Maybe it’s not so much of a coincidence,” Olivier responded, as he handed her a small cup of coffee. “Things never are just coincidences. There is probably some reason why we found each other here today.”

  “Well maybe. It’s just strange that out all of the beautiful places around Kepton you should come here,” Beth said, sipping at the hot coffee.

  “Well I found it easily enough,” Olivier replied. “When I first came to Kepton I located it on a map and thought this was the perfect get-away place for me.”

  “Right,” Beth said. “But even so. It was a place my father designated his own.”

  “He must have been an angry man then,” Olivier said nonchalantly. “It is a perfect place to come to be angry.”

  “Why do you say that?” Beth asked.

  “I was joking about your father,” Olivier answered. “The rock and the desolate landscape around here appeals to me. I can come here and feel that the world understands me because the elements are so raw.”

  “Interesting,” Beth replied. “My father used to walk these moors all the time and he definitely felt like you do. From what he used to say he found it really soothing despite the intensity. And you’re not wrong in your assumptions. He had a lot to be angry about.”

  “Now tell me,” Olivier said, ignoring any mention of her father as he offered Beth a macaroon. “How was your lunch?”

  “It made me angry,” Beth replied, her face darkening. She’d read enough books to know that to reveal too much emotional baggage all in one go to a man she wanted to seduce was probably not the best way to attract him. But somehow she felt this particular man would totally understand.

  “Why, what happened?” Oliver asked, as he lay back on the picnic rug. “You were only away a short time.”

  “It’s complicated,” Beth continued. “It was my Uncle Arthur who made me feel really angry. He just didn’t open up, and I wanted him to. I’m probably as angry as you were last night.”

  “Wow. I’m not sure I’ve met anyone before who is that kind of angry,” Olivier replied, looking startled. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

  “Yes I do actually,” Beth replied, looking straight at him. “I was just thinking on the way over here, that whilst we’ve only just met each other, you’re possibly about the only person in the whole world who I feel able to discuss this stuff with at the moment.”

  “Ok, tell me everything. It might surprise you to know that I’m actually quite a good listener when other people have problems,” Olivier added. “What were you expecting from this lunch?”

  “I wanted Uncle Arthur to talk to me about some really painful things that happened in my past and give me some answers,” Beth started. “And, instead, he just gave me bland replies. I’m convinced he knows more than what he is letting on.”

  “More about what?” Olivier interrupted as he placed a jumper under his head to get comfortable.

  “About things,” Beth replied. “He didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

  “But what did you want him to talk to you about?” Olivier asked, repeating the question. “You need to be a bit more specific than just saying ‘things’. What things?”

  “My Dad died three weeks ago,” Beth answered. “And I’m taking time out to try to get to the bottom of some quite difficult stuff that happened to my family over the years.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear you lost your father,” Olivier said solemnly. “I had no idea. You didn’t mention that last night. Do you want to talk about that?”

  “No, not at the moment,” Beth whispered. “When Dad died I knew he was finally at peace after a really difficult life so it’s almost like I’m fine with that bit of the jigsaw. It’s the other mess-ups I want and need to talk about.”

  “Come on then, spit it all out. What’s the other stuff?” Olivier asked, rolling over onto one side to look at her more intently. “To be able to try and help you, I need to know what happened to you in the first place.”

  “My twin brother Alistair died a long time ago,” Beth said eventually, gripping her coffee cup for warmth and support. “He actually died in the swimming pool at Highlands. You know, the place we were talking about the other night.”

  “Christ,” Olivier exclaimed, sitting back up on his elbows. “That’s absolutely terrible.”

  “Yes it was more than terrible,” Beth nodded. “It was the worst day of my life, and after he died life just got even more difficult for my family.”

  “How old was he when he died?” Olivier interjected.

  “It happened just before our fourth birthdays,” Beth answered. “I wasn’t there with him at the time as I was in hospital. As a twin I think I’ve always suffered from survivors’ guilt.”

  “Is that why you are angry?” Olivier asked.

  “Yes, absolutely, I’m angry about that. But, as I said earlier, there are other complications,” Beth added.

  “Like what?” Olivier asked more forcefully.

  “My father was the eldest son of three sons,” Beth continued. “He should by rights have inherited the family business, which at the time was hugely successful, as well as Highlands the family house. He lost the lot and died a pauper.”

  “And these are all the complications you talk about?” Olivier asked.

  “Yes pretty much,” Beth continued. “After Alistair died, neither of those things happened as both the business and the house went to my Uncle Richard – my Dad’s middle brother.”

  “And you think all these things are linked?” Olivier asked.

  “In a way …” Beth said, bracing herself for the next sentence. “The main reason I went to see Uncle Arthur was to see if he blamed Richard for Alistair’s death.”

  “And why would he do that?” Olivier asked, looking much more startled.

  “Because Uncle Richard was supposed to have been with my brother when he died,” Beth answered slowly. “But I have always experienced a strong sensation that my brother died alone.”

  “What do you mean?” Olivier asked looking aghast.

  “Call it intuition, as I said earlier,” Beth replied. “I just know in my heart that whilst the story has always been that Uncle Richard was with him in the swimming pool, he wasn’t.”

  “And you believe your Uncle Arthur knows about these events and is keeping things from you?” Olivier asked, his face creased in concentration.

  “I’m not sure he knows everything,” Beth replied. “But I think both he and my Aunt Louise know more about what happened than either is letting on.”

  “You’re right. This is complicated,” Olivier exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “So what are you going to do now you’ve had the lunch?”

  “I’m not sure,” Beth responded. “I’ve already spoken to my great Aunt Ada and pretty much drawn a blank there. Apart from her and Arthur there aren’t many people left who were even around when it all happened.”

  “And your mother, is she still alive?” Olivier asked.

  “Yes,” Beth said. “But part of the problem is that my parents remained mute about the whole thing all my life. I’ve tried talking to Mum about it. I told her I wanted to take some time off so I could speak to some of Dad’s remaining relatives but she just told me not to dig up the past or get involved with any of them.”

  “Interesting,” Olivier shrugged. “That suggests she might know that you’re onto something. So is that why you’re not w
orking at the moment?”

  “Yes,” Beth replied. “It’s the reason I’m in Kepton.”

  “And what about Richard?” Olivier asked, his eyes widening. “Is there any point at all in talking to him?”

  “Well therein lies the problem,” Beth replied, her voice starting to sound angry. “Uncle Richard is dead. He died in a fire at Highlands with his wife and their only child Charlie. The fire happened years after my brother died.”

  “Good God,” Olivier exclaimed, placing his mug and macaroon down on the picnic rug. “I believe in karma and that sounds profoundly karmic.”

  “I totally agree,” Beth responded. “I’ve always thought the fire was some kind of recompense for what happened to us. But it’s a view I’ve never been able to share with my family. You’ve just said the unspeakable.”

  “I can see why you are my kind of angry,” Olivier said, taking her by surprise by putting his hands protectively around her shoulders. “I had no idea you were suffering in this way. It puts all my stuff into perspective.”

  “Well,” Beth replied, as she found comfort in his arms. “Sometimes I feel it is just my family which has this many problems, so meeting you has been more helpful than you’ll ever know.”

  “One thing I have learnt in my life is that there is always someone much worse off than you are,” Olivier smiled, as he pulled his arms away to look at her.

  “Do you have any family secrets or complications other than Isabel?” Beth asked, suddenly not wanting to talk about her family any more.

  “Not secrets as such but inheritance is always a difficult topic,” Olivier replied. “We have a family home which passed to my Uncle rather than my father but for very different reasons. It’s a beautiful chateau and I sometimes just go and stare at it.”

  “Why didn’t your father get it?” Beth asked.

  “The reasons were much less complicated,” Olivier answered. “My father died when I was very young, so his younger brother inherited it from my grandparents.”

  “So totally different to my situation then,” Beth replied. “For a crazy moment I wondered if there was going to be another coincidence.”

  “No,” Olivier sighed. “It’s still sad though. I would love to live there. It’s my ideal home. It’s not unlike Highlands in many ways in fact.”

  “There’s a lesson I’ve learnt,” Beth smiled. “And that’s not to get attached to people or property. Highlands was a beautiful family home but, after we left, I knew I would never live there again.”

  “Do you ever just go and look at it though and remember the past?” Olivier asked.

  “I actually went there yesterday,” Beth admitted. “It was the first time I’d really been back since the fire.”

  “God,” Olivier said. “That was brave. How did it feel?”

  “In many ways it was cathartic,” Beth answered. “My brother was in the swimming pool when he died. The new owners have turned it into an herb garden which I thought was quite fitting actually. It’s all been beautifully done up.”

  “Christ,” Olivier exclaimed. “I’ve just had a thought.”

  “What?” Beth said expectantly, as she turned to face him.

  “I need to get you to speak to Lottie and Matt Rowlands who bought the property and who were dining in the bistro last night,” Olivier replied.

  “What the really glamorous couple by the window?” Beth asked.

  “Yes,” Olivier confirmed. “You know the ones with the spaniel.”

  “I totally remember them,” Beth retorted thoughtfully. “But how would they be able to help? I mean I know they live there but …”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it until now,” Olivier mused. “They did a lot of research about the house when they first bought it. They could have picked something up about its history which may be helpful.”

  “Yes it’s possible I guess,” Beth said cautiously.

  “They’re supposed to be coming to the bistro for dinner tonight,” Olivier continued. “If the electricity gets put back on I can introduce you if you want. It’s a long shot but it might be worth speaking to them at least.”

  “Yes why not,” Beth agreed, grateful for his interest as she pulled the rug more firmly round her shoulders to keep out the biting cold. “It can’t hurt for me to have a conversation with them if they are willing to talk.”

  Olivier didn’t reply. Looking out across the never ending coarse moorland he clasped her hands, suddenly more focused on her problems than on his own.

  “Better still,” he said after a few minutes. “I will ring them as soon as I get back and see if they mind you joining them for dinner. I’ll just tell them that you used to live there. That way if they don’t want to speak they can let me know and we can avoid any embarrassment.”

  CHAPTER 11: DINNER WITH THE ROWLANDS

  True to his word, Olivier arranged for Beth to join Matt and Lottie Rowlands in the bistro for dinner. They’d been delighted at the prospect of sharing their table with an Earnshaw.

  “It’s kind of weird to finally meet someone who actually lived in our house,” Matt enthused as soon as they’d been introduced. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Me neither,” Beth smiled back, slightly disconcerted by his use of the word ‘our’ as she squished herself down in-between them.

  “So, what brings you back to Kepton?” Matt continued, keen to get down to business.

  “Family reasons,” Beth answered awkwardly as she settled into her chair. “My father died a couple of weeks ago, and it’s made me think a lot about the past. I came back for the funeral and stayed on. I’m just not ready to leave yet.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Lottie commiserated, as Matt poured them both a glass of wine. “Was it sudden?”

  “Yes. Relatively,” Beth replied. “We knew Dad was ill but it all happened very quickly in the end. I didn’t see much of him over the last twelve months, which of course I now regret big time.”

  “Just remember the good times,” Lottie said, reaching over to touch Beth’s hand.

  “Yes I’m trying to,” Beth retorted, moving her wine glass nervously around on the red and white checked table cloth.

  “When my father died I put an album together of happy family pictures,” Matt interjected. “And it helped more than I imagined it would. In the end what you’ve got left is memories, so you need to capture the good ones before they fade into the mists of time.”

  Beth smiled anxiously as Matt talked. How could she even begin to explain that finding photos depicting happy times with her family might be stretching things a bit too far? But she didn’t want to appear rude.

  “It’s a nice idea,” Beth said, trying desperately hard to think of photos of her family which could go into an album of happy memories. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Olivier told us that you’re staying overnight at the bistro,” Lottie volunteered, registering Beth’s hesitation as she picked at the complimentary bowl of olives in the middle of the table.

  “Yes I stayed last night as well,” Beth replied, brightening up. “It’s close to where some of Dad’s relatives live.”

  “Well I can’t think of a better place to stay than here,” Matt smiled. “Olivier has set up a real gem of a place.”

  “I know,” Beth beamed back. “There was nothing like this in Kepton when I lived here. I found it on the internet the other evening and couldn’t believe my luck.”

  “Neither could we,” Lottie agreed. “Imagine our joy when we woke up one morning to find a French patisserie and bistro had magically appeared on our doorstep.”

  “And it opened at the perfect moment,” Matt grinned enthusiastically. “We’d lived in London before moving up here, so we were used to having a whole variety of cafes and restaurants to choose from. Kepton had neither before Olivier.”

  “And it’s doing well for a place that’s only just
opened,” Beth enthused.

  “Yes. You wouldn’t believe by looking around tonight that it’s been open only a few weeks,” Matt answered. “One minute it was a pork pie shop and the next Olivier had arrived and filled the windows with artisan French bread and fabulous fruit tarts.”

  “The window displays are certainly what draw you in,” Beth laughed, as she looked around at the full-to-bursting tables. “When I got here yesterday afternoon they were queuing outside the door, so I knew it must have something special going for it.”

  “It’s not just the food though,” Lottie interjected, smiling as she leaned forward. “Olivier’s pretty special too. I mean he’s just put so much positive energy into this place. And he sources all his ingredients locally, doesn’t he darling?”

  “Yes,” Matt nodded. “The man’s passion for what he does is really extraordinary. It’s a shame that what drives him is his acrimony towards his wife.”

  “It’s difficult,” Beth replied, unsure what to say next. “Olivier told me a bit about Isabel last night. He clearly adored her.”

  “Yes, and I think he still does. He sees this place as some form of therapy,” Matt smiled. “He seems to think that if he works hard enough he’ll forget her.”

  “Where do you live now Beth?” Lottie interrupted, sensing Beth’s reticence to speak about Olivier and his wife.

  “London,” Beth sighed. “But I guess my heart will always be here. I never thought I would say that but now that Dad has gone I feel strangely reattached to Kepton and my father’s family.”

  “And a lot of your memories are no doubt strongly linked to Highlands, which is why you wanted to meet us?” Matt asked cautiously.

  “Yes absolutely,” Beth answered. “When I mentioned to Olivier that Highlands used to belong to my family and I was looking to reconnect with some of my family history he said he’d try and introduce us.”

  “Well, he did the right thing,” Lottie chuckled. “We’re practically in here every morning and evening as it’s so much easier than cooking. The only difference is that we left Molly our gorgeous spaniel at home tonight. She wasn’t too happy about that.”