Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (3 page)

Powell had given his name to a gruff sounding male at the other end of the entry system and explained he was meeting with Hattie. There was no immediate response but after a pause, he was instructed to drive up to the main house. He had obviously been checking Powell was expected.

The double gates swung open and Powell glimpsed the inside of the estate for the first time. He had observed the cameras at the gate and the high, thick walls. The security measures certainly protected the privacy of those inside. Was the intention to keep people away or make it difficult for those living at the house to leave?

The driveway leading to the house wound its way through woodland and then emerged on to a vast lawn. There were large numbers of daffodils and tulips in circular flower beds. The sun was shining and Spring was definitely in the air.

Powell could see Hattie waiting for him on the steps of the grand house. It was very imposing and must once have belonged to someone important and very wealthy. Hattie was dressed very casually in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Nothing about the way she looked, suggested she was wealthy.

“You actually came!” Hattie exclaimed as Powell stepped out of the car.

“I said I would.”

“But you had a few beers and I thought you might wake up and change your mind.”

“I’m excited to be here,” Powell smiled. “Even more so now I’ve seen this place. It’s a mansion not a house.”

Hattie kissed him on each cheek in greeting. “It’s Georgian, built in seventeen ninety and we have seventy seven acres of grounds but that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Well it’s certainly impressive.”

“I’ll give you a quick tour of the house and then we can grab a coffee and I can answer more of your questions,” she suggested.

“Are there any rules I need to know about while I’m here?” Powell asked.

“Rules? No, we lead a very liberal lifestyle. Most of us aren’t very keen on rules. We do have a kind of charter. We agree to show love, respect and tolerance to each other. Ask anyone anything you want.”

Powell was learning to like Hattie. She had an infectious enthusiasm. He wondered how her parents would react if he reported back something they didn’t want to hear?

Hattie led the way through various rooms on the ground floor, including a very impressive library, which Powell perused for a few minutes.

“I’m a big reader,” he explained. “Who do all the books belong to?”

“They came with the house. Feel free to help yourself.”

“Thanks. This collection would keep me busy for a very long time.”

“I’m not much of a reader myself,” Hattie admitted. “I prefer the outdoors.”

“I like the outdoors as well. I enjoy camping in remote places and long walks. But when you get back to your tent for the evening, then I enjoy a good book.”

“That’s when I like to open a bottle of something and chill out with whoever I’m with. Reading is such a lonely hobby. I prefer to interact with people.”

“Hey, I like to interact with people,” Powell retorted. I’m honestly not old and boring just because I like to read.”

“I never said you were. I just think there’s better things to do in a tent late at night, than read a book,” Hattie hinted. She smiled broadly and he wondered for the first time whether perhaps it was Hattie who had seduced Scott and not the other way around. 

Powell smiled in return. “As I said, I’m not old and boring,” he stressed. “It’s just I tend to go camping by myself so interaction with others is a bit limited come the evening.”

“Now I understand,” Hattie nodded. “And interaction with yourself is definitely not as much fun as with other people.”

Powell understood her innuendo and smiled. “You’re trouble,” he said succinctly.

“Only in a fun way.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Powell proposed. He wondered if he was blushing. “Who owns this house?” 

“Scott. I think he bought the place at auction after the previous owner died.”

Powell had researched the ownership on the internet and found the property was owned by a company, which described its business as property management. Scott wasn’t listed as a director of the company so Powell wondered if Hattie was just assuming Scott was the owner.

They carried on with their tour of the house. There was a huge living room and a games room with a table tennis table.

“Do you play?” Hattie asked.

“I used to as a kid.”

“We have regular competitions. They get quite competitive. Sometimes we play for interesting prizes.”

“What sort of prizes?”

“You will have to enter one of the tournaments to find out.”

Powell’s imagination was working overtime conjuring up loads of possible prizes. He didn’t think Hattie was referring to anything as mundane as medals.

Next they visited the oak panelled dining room and what was described as the quiet living room.

“This is a room for reading and reflection,” Hattie whispered, even though it was empty. Then she added with a grin, “It doesn’t get used very much.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll have a room all to myself. You’re lucky to be living in such an amazing house.”

“You must come and join us,” Hattie answered with another beaming smile. “You’d fit in well. You have a good sense of humour.”

“I like what I’ve seen so far,” Powell admitted.

Hattie led the way to the kitchen where two women were preparing food for lunch and dinner.

“I can cook a bit,” Powell announced.

“Really?” Hattie questioned doubtfully. “None of the other men are any use in the kitchen.”

“My bar serves good food,” he answered by way of explanation. “I’ve spent plenty of time in the kitchen.”

On the second floor, Powell was shown the sleeping arrangements. There were about a dozen bedrooms. Some had multiple beds in the room.

Standing inside one of the larger rooms, which had the biggest double bed he’d ever seen, he asked, “How is it decided who sleeps where?”

“You sleep where you want,” she answered. Then added, “And with whom you want.”

“I was going to ask about that. Are the men in relationships with the women?”

“Scott doesn’t believe in fixed relationships. He thinks it is more harmonious if we simply love who we want, when we want.”

Powell could see Hattie was appraising him, waiting to see his reaction.

“And if like me, you aren’t looking for any form of harmonious relationship?”

“You’re not gay are you?”

“Would it matter if I was?”

“Of course not. I was just interested.”

“Well I’m not gay.”

“The girls will be pleased to hear that.”

“But neither am I looking for any form of relationship.”

“Let’s get some coffee,” Hattie suggested. “You’ve seen most of the house.”

Back in the kitchen, Hattie made some filter coffee and they then returned to the living room.

“Where is everyone?” Powell asked when they were seated.

“Working. Scott will be in his office. The rest are working outside. It’s Scott’s goal for us to become completely self-sufficient. We grow all our own fruit and vegetables. We also have a couple of cows, some hens and chickens. And of course, there’s good fishing in the lake.”

“How do the finances work? I assume we don’t all get to stay here for free.”

“Everybody contributes according to their means. Those who have more, give more. I’m sure Scott will discuss the details with you later.”

“Sounds very fair.” The thought crossed Powell’s mind that Charles Buckingham might be right to be worried about Hattie’s inheritance.

“Scott is a great believer in fairness. I’m sure you will love it here. It’s a great place to contemplate what’s important in life.”

“Sounds like you’ve worked out what’s important to you.”

“Well let’s say I know what isn’t important.”

“Are we allowed to bring laptops and phones?” Powell asked.

“I’m sorry, most of us have come here to get away from the material and electronic world so we have agreed not to bring electronic gadgets into the house. Scott has a computer and a phone in his office, which are available for emergencies. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” Powell confirmed. “I’m not one of those people who walk around staring at a phone all day. I think it’s an age thing. When I was young, mobile phones didn’t even exist.”

It explained why Hattie’s phone always went straight to voicemail. She was obviously infatuated with Scott and the way of life he offered but she was also a bright girl and Powell couldn’t imagine her handing over all her millions to Scott, the minute she was twenty one.

“So what is the worst thing about living here?” Powell asked.

Hattie seemed taken aback by the question. After a few seconds she answered, “I suppose it’s a bit like living with a very large family. We see a lot of each other and every so often you fall out over something.”

“Don’t you miss having your own room and privacy?”

“I go for a walk when I want to be by myself. It’s easy to lose yourself in the grounds.”

“How do you come to be here?” Powell asked.

“A friend of a friend told me about the place and I was looking to get away from a very claustrophobic home environment. My parents haven’t really adjusted to the idea that I’ve grown up. I came down for a weekend and I’ve been living here ever since.”

“What do your family think about you being here?”

“They don’t understand me. My father is too wrapped up in making money and my mother worries I’ve joined a cult of religious nuts. As I said, they treat me like I’m still a child.”

“All parents worry about their children. Remember they brought you in to the world and may not be around for ever so try not to fallout.”

“I do love them but they make everything so difficult. I care about the planet much more than about making money. I will choose who I love and it won’t be determined by their social status.” Hattie realised she had raised her voice and become animated. “Sorry,” she apologised with a smile. “Scott says I should put things right with my parents. I’ve been ignoring them because they made me so mad. Scott says I should accept my parents as they are. He doesn’t believe they will ever change. They are a product of their upbringing and they belong to a different generation.” 

“I agree with Scott.” Powell was surprised and pleased to hear Scott was encouraging Hattie to get back in touch with her parents. He wasn’t trying to isolate her from them, which he would be doing if he had any sinister intentions.

“Are you similarly old fashioned?” Hattie asked. “After all, you are quite old yourself.”

Powell smiled. He recognised he was being teased. “Only in years. I’m still waiting to grow up,” he quipped.

Hattie smiled. “Scott was right. You should fit in well. You have a sense of humour.”

“I hope so. Speaking of Scott, how long has he been running the commune?”

“You can ask him later. I think it’s about time I showed you around the grounds.”

Powell returned to Brighton, having agreed with Scott, he would return for a one month trial. Scott explained everyone initially moved in on a trial basis and nearly everyone had extended their stay once the trial period was finished. 

Powell told Afina he would be gone a maximum of a month and despite her obvious curiosity, he told her little about where he was going. He needed some time alone to recharge his batteries. The recent terrorist attacks, which had resulted in the death of Lara, had left him in need of a break.

In an emergency, he could be contacted through the number he provided, which was the phone in Scott’s office. But it was only to be used for absolute emergencies, not to discuss changes in the menu.

In truth, he expected to be away far less time than a month because he believed he was on a wild goose chase. Hattie seemed both physically safe and compos mentis. Whatever her feelings for Scott, she still seemed perfectly capable of making her own rational decisions. For his part, Scott didn’t seem over controlling and ran a relaxed commune. Either that or he had put on a good act for Powell, in order to get him to return.

Powell didn’t believe Hattie would hand over all her millions to Scott or that he would exert any undue influence on her to do so. She might contribute some amount but even as much as a million dollars would only make a relatively small dent in her fortune. It might give Charles Buckingham a heart attack but he wasn’t exactly short of a penny or two.

However, Powell had learned nothing in life was certain so he would spend a bit longer with the commune rather than just provide Hattie’s parents with his brief, initial thoughts. He wasn’t interested in extending his assignment for financial reward but he didn’t want to be accused of making hasty decisions. Clara Buckingham deserved his best efforts even if he wouldn’t cross the road to help her husband .

Powell doubted he would be able to influence Hattie with regard to how she spent her money and he had no intention of trying to do so. He hoped he would be able to put Hattie’s parents’ minds at rest about their daughter’s safety but he was not going to get in the middle of a family war about how she spent her inheritance or lived her life.

The day after his first visit to Tintagel, he returned with a suitcase of clothes and was again greeted by Hattie. She asked him to confirm he hadn’t brought a phone or any form of electronic devices before showing him to a bed in a room with three single beds.

“Scott suggested I put you in here to start with,” Hattie explained with a mischievous smile.

“Are the other two beds occupied?”

“Not usually.”

“What do you mean by putting me here to start with?”

“I think you will be getting some serious interest from one or two of the girls.”

“Perhaps you could do me a favour and just mention to everyone that I’m really not looking for any female attention. In the very unlikely event there is some interest, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“As you wish,” Hattie replied doubtfully. “But I’m not sure it will make any difference. Some of the girls will just see it as a challenge to get you to sleep with them. Others are simply desperate for the company of a new man.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, you are making me wonder what sort of a place I’ve joined,” Powell said lightly with a grin.

“We work hard and play hard. Scott advocates a very open culture. What can be more natural than the physical expression of our feelings?”

Powell could tell he was being teased a little but also perhaps tested. “Call me old fashioned but I like to get to know someone before entering into a physical relationship. I find it makes for better sex.”

“It’s probably a generational thing. You are as old as my parents and I don’t think they even have sex.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Sex is not just the preserve of the young and beautiful.” 

“So you do like sex?”

“You could teach some of the Newsnight team interrogation, I mean interview techniques.”

“Sorry, I am very direct.”

“That’s okay. I’m not easily offended.” Not for the first time around Hattie, Powell decided to change the subject. “Where did you decide to put me to work?” 

“You said you were good at most DIY skills so Scott thought you could work on the long list of things that need fixing around the house. We have leaking pipes, electrics not working and a host of other jobs.”

“Sounds right up my street. Point me in the right direction.”

“Dave has been trying to do these jobs for us but the list gets longer quicker than he can fix things. He’s working in one of the bathrooms so I’ll take you to him and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

For Powell, the rest of the day passed quickly. Dave turned out to be an uncomplicated Welshman, who needed very little encouragement to get him singing. Almost anything Powell said would trigger a song. Fortunately, he had an excellent voice and Powell enjoyed his company. It was good for the spirit, to spend a day fixing things.

Dinner was at seven and everyone was seated at the long dining table. Powell sat himself next to Hattie and was quickly surrounded by some of the other women. As the new man, he found himself subjected to a barrage of questions, which in the main he was able to answer honestly. His basic cover story was that the loss of his daughter, followed by the death of his friend at the hands of terrorists, had left him questioning the meaning of life and in need of a quiet sanctuary.

He gently probed why others were at the commune and most people seemed to be either running away from pain or searching for a more spiritual way of life. There were repeated comments about how the world had become too materialistic and mankind was destroying the planet. Powell kept his views to himself but he couldn’t see how hiding away in a commune was helping solve the world’s problems.

Powell noticed Scott sat at one end of the table, rather like the Lord of the manor. Tommy from the pub sat on one side of Scott and another man, he learned was called Roger, on the other side. Powell hadn’t seen either man during the previous day’s tour of the house and gardens or today. Where had they been hiding away and what exactly did they do for Scott?

They didn’t seem to fit in like the other members of the commune. Powell very much doubted whether they were at the commune for spiritual reasons. They stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps they were some form of security, which invited the question, why did Scott feel he needed security? Who or what were they protecting Scott from?

He would ask Hattie about them but he needed to be careful. Over lunch, he had gained the impression, Hattie was reluctant to answer any questions about Scott. Powell didn’t want to seem too inquisitive and make Hattie suspicious.

After a meal of pasta with a vegetable sauce made from fresh ingredients grown in the garden, a couple of the women invited him to join them for a cigarette.

“Thanks but I don’t smoke,” Powell declined with a smile.

“This isn’t tobacco we’re smoking,” an attractive woman in her thirties revealed. Powell was struggling to remember many people’s names.

“I don’t smoke
anything
,” Powell emphasised. “I’m a bit of a fitness fanatic and run marathons.” He had run the Brighton marathon one time but his fitness was really derived from his kickboxing training. That wasn’t something he felt he needed to share with his new friends.

“You look pretty fit,” the woman said, making no attempt to disguise the fact she was flirting. “I might have to take up running.” She walked away before he could answer.

“Looks like you’ve sparked Carol’s interest,” Hattie laughed. “I did warn you.”

“You did indeed.”

“I didn’t know you were a runner,” Hattie continued. “A group of us go running every morning around the grounds. If you want to join us, be at the front of the house at seven. That’s as long as you realise we aren’t Olympic athletes.” 

“I’ll probably give it a miss, thanks. I prefer to run by myself. That way I can set my own pace. I tend to awake about six and run for an hour.”

“Suit yourself. Do you fancy a game of table tennis?”

“I haven’t played in years but sounds a good idea.” He remembered Hattie’s comment about playing for interesting prizes. “I assume we are just playing for fun not prizes?”

“Don’t look so scared. It’s just for fun… This time!”

As they walked to the games room, Powell noticed Scott and his two shadows leaving the house. Perhaps they were off to the pub.

Powell’s table tennis skills were proven to be inadequate to compete with the others and it was a good job there were no prizes at stake. He decided to see what was happening in the living room.

He spotted Carol and another female chatting and drinking from mugs. They both smiled in his direction when he entered the room. As he wanted to find out more about life in the house, he decided to join them.

“How are you settling in?” Carol asked.

“So far, so good,” he replied. “But my table tennis skills aren’t up to scratch.”

“How about your other skills?” Carol asked with a cheeky smile.

Powell simply smiled in response.

“We haven’t met,” he said, turning to the second woman and holding out his hand.

“Kirsty,” she replied, taking his hand. “Good to meet you.” She was a red head with pale skin and a face full of freckles. She was about thirty years of age and spoke with a Yorkshire accent. 

“So how long have you two lived here?”

“We both joined about eighteen months ago,” Kirsty answered.

“So I guess you enjoy it here?”

“We do,” Carol answered. “Here you can be yourself. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.”

“Why are you here?” Kirsty asked.

“I suppose I’m running away.”

“From what?” Carol asked.

Powell realised how what he’d said might be interpreted wrongly. “I’m not a murderer or anything,” he laughed. “I just needed to get away from everything. I needed time to think about life.”

“I think you’ll like it here,” Kirsty said with conviction. “And if you discover the meaning of life be sure to let me in on the secret.”

“I will,” Powell promised.

“Would you like to celebrate your arrival by partying with us?” Carol asked.

“I fear I’m going to seem very boring but I need an early night.”

“That’s exactly what I was suggesting,” Carol smiled.

“Maybe another time,” Powell suggested.

“Perhaps he has already made arrangements for tonight,” Kirsty suggested.

“What do you mean?” Powell enquired.

“You seemed to be getting on very well with Hattie,” Kirsty replied.

“I would be careful with Hattie,” Carol cautioned. “She and Scott are very close.”

“I thought Scott believed in the free expression of our physical emotions.”

“That’s what he says but he treats Hattie special,” Carol answered.

Powell sensed a hint of jealousy. Perhaps life in the house wasn’t quite as harmonious as he’d been led to believe. “Look, I’m just not in the mood to party.”

“Would you like something to put you in the mood?” Carol persisted.

“What do you have?” Powell asked out of curiosity.

“We have most things. I like a joint but there’s coke if that’s your poison and a variety of pills. The only pills we don’t have are the blue ones but think of us as the equivalent.”

“Sorry,” Kirsty quickly interjected. “I love Carol but she has a bit of a one track mind sometimes.”

“No need to apologise. I’m flattered by the idea two such gorgeous women would want to party with me. But one of the reasons I’m here is a recent lover of mine was killed by terrorists. So you see, I really don’t feel like any form of partying.”

“That’s awful,” Carol said. “I’m so sorry.”

“But I hope we can still be friends,” Powell stated.

“Of course,” both women answered in unison.

“We are all friends here,” Carol added glibly.

“Good. I’ll see you both tomorrow. I’m off to bed.”