‘Chuck, I was wondering about Mr Henderson? Do you like him? I’ve known his father for many years and have no reason to distrust him as he’s served our family loyally and well. But soon, Tristan will take over the reins and I don’t know too much about him, apart from he’s an incredible snob and, according to my dear cleaning ladies, who heard it via one of their colleagues, his wife is much the same.’
Clarissa let that thought settle and waited. Yes, it was a test, and she had no way of knowing if Chuck would pass or fail because she was merely following a hunch. So when he stopped pushing and came around to sit on the dry-stone wall by her side, she sensed a victory.
‘All I know is this. He’s very, very, keen for me to win you over and not mess up. He says he’s looking out for my interests and wants me to have a better future.’ Chuck then gave his forehead a scratch and said, ‘Heck, I don’t know the guy well enough to work out if he’s genuine or not. I did kinda wonder if maybe he’s gettin’ a reward for finding me, because he was real pushy about flyin’ me over here. I think that must be it… he’s wantin’ to get on your good side before he takes over his daddy’s job.’
With that, Chuck stood, and they were soon on their way but while he thought he’d solved a mystery, Clarissa wasn’t so sure. What if Tristan was a puppet-master in disguise and if he was, could someone else be pullinghisstrings? But who and why?
Unease bloomed and as she jiggled in her chair, the pebbles on the path disturbing the smooth roll of the wheels beneath her.
The sequence of recent events didn’t sit well with Clarissa. It had been Tristan’s idea to hire a genealogist and that had led them across the pond; then a private detective to pursue the trail. And he’d been full of the joys when he’d found a prospective heir, alive and well in New York. It was his idea to bring Chuck over, insisting he’d handle it all.
Had she, in her desire to secure her estate, allowed Tristan to manipulate her? Clarissa hated that notion more than anything. It had happened once before, when she was young and naïve and under her father’s thumb and look how that turned out.
For all she knew, Chuck could be an imposter.Oh dear lord, she’d thought,he could be anyone. Schooled and planted with only one purpose. To get his hands on her money. They were in it together.
And then as soon as it arrived, her terrible suspicion faded with the sound of Chuck asking her what the peacocks ate and why they made such a terrible sound. And she remembered the look in his eye. That innate sadness that only one who has suffered would recognise in another and was instantly ashamed.
Which was one of the reasons she decided to invite Chuck to stay at the manor. It would also do no harm to extricate him from the influence of Tristan, either. Or was it so she could keep an eye on him? Perhaps. Or because she actually rather liked him. Most definitely.
* * *
Clip-clopping on the hall tiles and Jennifer chattering away, accompanied the unmistakable rattling and squeaking of the hostess trolley. Knowing it would be carrying her pot of tea and – fingers crossed – a slice of cake, Clarissa re-opened her book and reposed her head. She would appear to be napping when they entered and from behind closed eyelids, took stock while she waited.
Over the past few days, any worries about Chuck had been banished and the one-sided conversation had strengthened her belief in him. As for Tristan Henderson, that was another matter entirely and no way was Clarissa going to sit back and do nothing. If he was up to something, then she needed to find out exactly what it was.
But how? Then it came to her, the solution. And it was right under her nose. Chuck.
CHAPTER39
HONEY
In the end Lizzy lost her patience and snatched the notepad from Honey’s hands and told her to go and sit at the table in the corner and face away from the customers in case she put them off their food. Knowing not to mess with Lizzy, Honey did as she was told.
‘I’ll bring you a pot of tea and then you can tell me what on earth is wrong. You’ve been neither use nor ornament all day and at this rate you’re going to curdle the milkshakes, so sit.’
Honey sloped off to the corner and the table with the reserved sign that had been waiting for her grandad since they opened at eight that morning. He’d not turned up for breakfast and it was approaching 10am, so she was getting worried. His phone just rang out and she’d decided that if he didn’t reply to her message by the time the big hand reached the top, she was going round there.
The evening before, as promised she’d bought him a bag of chips, lots of salt and vinegar – he’d refused a fish, saying he wasn’t that hungry. It had killed her, watching him walk up the path with the carrier bag scrunched in his hand the way he always did. He never held them by the handles. Another thing she loved about him stored in her memory bank.
All evening, she’d tried not to imagine him being sad, definitely not crying and thankfully unlike her dad, not drowning his sorrows in drink because two pints of bitter was Ernie’s max. He’d texted to say he was fine and was having an early night, so she’d done the same and, exhausted from the whole day, conked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
She’d given him the benefit of doubt when he didn’t reply to her 7am text, or her 8am one, thinking he was as tired as she. But once the breakfast trade faded away and he hadn’t turned up by nine, an uneasy feeling began to settle.
‘Here you go. One pot of Earl Grey for the lady with the smacked arse face. So, what’s up? If it’s man trouble and you don’t want to say, fair dos – but as you know, I am the speaker of sense where the male species is concerned so fire away.’ Lizzy had plonked herself opposite Honey and was pouring two cups of tea.
‘I swear it’s nothing to do with men, or a man, or Levi, because I know that’s what you think and, before you ask, it’s all going very nicely there. He’s helping me with a little project that should benefit us here at the café, we’ve been for lunch, he’s met Honker and we had a very nice kiss at the station and a Facetime later that evening. We’re going out on Saturday night, and I don’t intend letting him drive home back to Manchester or letting him sleep on the sofa, either. Does that satisfy madam’s curiosity?’ Honey gave Lizzy, who to put it politely had had her fair share of romances in her life, a wink.
Lizzy’s painted-on eyebrows had risen an inch higher above her wide, kohl-pencilled eyes, and she wore a satisfied smile. ‘Yes, that’s excellent news and it’s about time you started courting again.’
Honey nearly choked on her tea. ‘Courting! Jeez Lizzy. You sound like my grandma and you’re only forty-one. Where’ve you dragged that one up from?’
Lizzy tutted. ‘So, go on. Why the moody face?
‘I’m just a bit worried about Grandad. He should’ve been in early for breakfast and he’s not answering his phone and that’s not like him.’
Lizzy opened her mouth to speak just as Honey’s mobile began to ring in her back pocket. ‘Thank goodness, at last.’ Twisting her arm behind, she yanked out her phone and answered without looking at the screen but the voice on the other end wasn’t Ernie. It was the vicar who she knew well from events he’d attended at the café.
Two minutes later Honey was racing out towards the door, her arms one-in one-out of her parka and her rucksack flapping everywhere, banging against tables and customers in her panic to get to the car.
