High Tide (19 page)

As soon as she walked into the marquee, she realised her mistake. Everyone inside was in formal dress: black tie or long frocks. And although she got admiring glances from the men, she knew she was all wrong.

‘Ooh,’ said one man. ‘Who ordered a stripper? Brilliant idea.’

‘Cracking norks,’ goggled another.

And then Rupert saw her, and she saw him mouth ‘Oh shit’, and the girl he had his arm draped round giggled. And in that moment, she wanted to die.

She could still feel the humiliation, over fifteen years later, but she could laugh about it now. Her naivety. It had taught her a few lessons. And now she was a woman, a grown-up, and she was confident, and because of the circles she moved in, nothing much fazed her. She could handle Rupert Malahide.

She was covered in muck. It was astonishing what the recesses of an airing cupboard could accumulate: cobwebs and dust mice and fluff. She took a long bath, soaking it all away, then blow-dried her hair properly for the first time since she’d been here. She pondered what to wear, thought about the dress she’d brought over for the funeral, but decided that would be way too dressy even for Pennfleet’s best restaurant, and she’d made that mistake before, so she settled on jeans and a cream silk shirt. She certainly didn’t want Rupert to think she was going to too much effort.

The Townhouse by the Sea was converted from the old custom house on the quay. Kate had expected some soulless identikit boutique hotel decor but was instantly charmed. It was warm, quirky, atmospheric and luxurious. It was dark when she arrived, and the bar and dining area were lit by candles to enhance the subdued lighting.

The manageress, a young girl in her early twenties with a long chestnut bob and laughing eyes, had the knack of making her feel like a longstanding and valued customer. She had a certain polish, but was obviously local, which stopped her sounding too disingenuous.

‘You’re dining with Rupert, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘I’m Angelica. Come and have a drink while you wait. He’s always late, dear of him.’

As Angelica led her to a turquoise velvet sofa, Kate wondered how many of Rupert’s dining partners had been led here. If she was one of many. If Angelica was thinking
here goes another one
. If she was, she didn’t betray it.

‘Can I recommend our autumn cocktail?’ said Angelica. ‘It’s mostly blackberries. And vodka. And ginger wine. It’s lethal. But delicious.’

‘It sounds amazing,’ said Kate

‘It’s called Bramble On,’ Angelica told her. ‘I think it’s a play on a Led Zeppelin song. We have to humour Luca.’ She giggled. ‘You’ll be meeting him later. He and Rupert are impossible when they get together. If they get carried away, just tell me and I’ll sort them out.’

‘OK,’ said Kate, slightly disconcerted. ‘I love the hotel, by the way.’

‘We’re doing really well.’ Angelica was proud. ‘Pennfleet is a bit off the beaten track off-season, but we seem to be fully booked all the time these days.’

‘I can see why,’ said Kate. ‘It’s charming.’

Over Angelica’s shoulder, she could see Rupert arrive. He was in jeans and a grey sweater, so she was pleased she hadn’t dressed up.

‘Hey. Don’t get up. I’m sorry I’m late. I think the cab driver was in another time zone. ’ He bent down to kiss Kate, then turned and kissed Angelica. ‘I hope you’ve been looking after my guest, Gel. What are we drinking?’

‘Blackberry cocktails,’ Kate told him.

‘Perfect.’ He sat down next to her and picked up a menu. ‘Have you looked at the menu yet? Luca is a culinary genius. Honestly. You won’t have eaten food like it.’

‘I recommend the porchetta,’ said Angelica. ‘With baked apples. And celeriac puree. And maybe some oysters to start? We’ve just started serving them again.’

‘Does that sound OK to you?’ Rupert asked Kate. ‘Shall we have that? I totally trust Angelica.’

Kate was a little startled that she hadn’t even had time to look at the menu, but somehow Rupert didn’t come across as chauvinistic. If any other man had done that, she would have been furious.

‘Fabulous,’ she said.

Angelica took their menus and glided away. Rupert watched her go.

‘I’ve got my eye on her,’ he said.

Kate’s heart sank. So he hadn’t changed. And how bloody rude. To eye up the staff while he was taking her out. She stiffened.

‘Oh God,’ said Rupert, with a grin. ‘I don’t mean in that way. I mean I’m thinking about poaching her for my new project. Though Luca will kill me.’

Kate relaxed a little. ‘New project?’ she asked.

‘I’ll tell you about it later,’ he replied. ‘How are
you
? My grandmother sends her regards, by the way. Have you had an awful few days?’

Kate remembered how, when he focused on you, you felt like the centre of his world.

‘Well,’ said Kate, ‘it hasn’t been a bundle of laughs. But I’m coping.’ She smiled. ‘Though I’ve been living on cheese toasties and Jaffa Cakes. My personal trainer’s going to have a fit.’

What had she said that for? It made her sound like an idiot. Rupert looked at her askance.

‘If you’re going to start worrying about carbs and fat, you’d better leave now.’

‘Oh God,’ said Kate. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been in New York too long. And I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.’

‘I don’t really do guilt,’ said Rupert. ‘About anything. But definitely not about food.’

Kate bit her tongue. She knew as well as anyone he didn’t do guilt. He’d never shown a moment’s remorse about how he’d treated her. And it was easy not to feel guilty about food when you had a fast metabolism. She imagined he never put on a pound of excess weight. She didn’t say anything, though.

Angelica returned with a tray bearing two etched tumblers, garnished with mint and blackberries. There was a plate of canapés too.

‘Onion tartlets with melted Reblochon,’ she told them. ‘With the compliments of the chef.’

Kate took her drink and picked up a tartlet.

‘No guilt,’ she told Rupert.

She took a sip of her drink. It tasted of autumn and decadence: warm and syrupy and tart and seductive. She bit into the tartlet: sweet, melting onion combined with the salty tang of creamy cheese.

‘Oh my God.’ She feigned swooning. ‘It’s out of this world.’

‘I told you. Luca’s a genius,’ said Rupert, lobbing a whole tartlet into his mouth unceremoniously.

Kate and Rupert’s table was right by the French windows at the far end of the dining room. It looked out onto the harbour, where the lights of the town were reflected in the water, flashes of silver and gold on deepest black. There was a snowy-white linen tablecloth, a pewter candelabra stuffed with fuchsia candles, and a silver platter bearing a dozen oysters resting on a bed of ice. Two high-backed chairs covered in grey velvet faced each other. Kate took her seat as Angelica brought over a bottle of Chablis.

‘Luca insists you have this with your oysters,’ she said. ‘He won’t take no for an answer.’

‘Fine by me,’ said Rupert, and Kate smiled her assent.

‘Me too.’

Rupert turned out to be a hugely entertaining dining companion. Effusive about the food and wine, he was full of gossip and inside information.

‘Luca and Angelica have this fiery on-off relationship,’ he told her. ‘He’s totally besotted with her, but she leads him a merry dance. I do feel a bit sorry for him. His fiancée left him a couple of years ago – went back to her childhood sweetheart. And he’s been mooning round after Angelica ever since. He asks her to marry him about five times a week, but she refuses.’

‘So is that why he’d be cross if you poached her?’

‘No – he’d be cross because she’s so bloody good at her job. He’d never find a replacement. She started off as a chambermaid and now she basically runs the place.’

‘So what is this New Project?’

‘As soon as it became obvious my grandmother was losing her sight, and there was nothing that could be done about it, we had a family conference. You know what a big part of our lives she’s always been. None of us wanted her to have to leave Southcliffe. She
is
Southcliffe.’

He looked at Kate as if asking for confirmation.

‘I understand that,’ she said.

‘It also became obvious that Granny wasn’t going to accept help from anyone. She is infuriatingly independent. But you can’t live on your own in a big house like that with failing eyesight. So … as the only grandchild without any real responsibility, or a family, it was up to me to come and live with her.’

‘That’s very … dutiful,’ said Kate.

Rupert grinned. ‘I know the whole town thinks it’s because I’m after the house. But that’s been put in a trust for all of us ages ago. I do it because I love her, and because she did a better job of looking after us lot than any of our parents did. She was always there for us. If I couldn’t repay her for that, what kind of man does that make me? Not that it’s exactly a hardship. I love Pennfleet. I always have.’

‘Me too,’ agreed Kate. ‘You forget the magic, when you’re away. But it reels you straight back in.’

Rupert nodded. ‘Anyway, we’ve never been sure what to do with the house long term. We can’t just keep it as a holiday home. That’s a luxury too far. So, after much debate and number crunching, we’re going to hire it out as a party house.’

‘A party house,’ said Kate. She could see it already in her mind’s eye. ‘How wonderful.’

‘It will be.’ Rupert nodded his agreement. ‘The idea is to hire it out for birthdays and special occasions. Cashing in on the whole
Upstairs Downstairs
,
Downton Abbey
obsession that seems to be sweeping the country. If not the whole world. We’re going mega-upmarket. Croquet, butlers, maids, tea on the lawn, chauffeur-driven Bentley, billiards … you get the picture.’

‘I suppose that’s exactly how it was once.’

‘Before we got hold of it and lowered the tone. Very probably. Obviously it needs a load of money chucking at it. Our clientele will be people who want only the best. So it’s going to be quite an investment. But we hope to be up and running at the end of next year. And we can keep some weeks free for ourselves.’

‘What about your grandmother? I thought the whole idea was she wanted to stay at Southcliffe.’

‘She and I are going to have an annexe at the back.’ He made a face. ‘Annexe sounds ghastly but I’ve made sure it won’t be. The architect’s got it all planned, specially kitted out for when she does finally lose her sight. I’m the sort of host-cum-manager, so I need to live on site. Though I’m a bit worried about how I’m going to deal with tricky customers. Tact is not my forte. Which is why I’m after Angelica.’

‘How are you going to manage that? I mean, isn’t Luca your friend?’

‘Ah, well, I’m trying to persuade Luca and his business partner to invest. I want Luca to oversee the menus, and train up my staff. I really want this to be a local project, as far as possible. Pennfleet has changed so much lately – for the better in some ways, but that isn’t always good for the people who come from here. I want to use local staff, local suppliers, but I need really good people in place to make sure they are up to the job.’

He was really warming to his subject. Kate could sense his passion and his vision. She was surprised. She had assumed him to be a selfish, out-for-himself kind of person. A user. A charming user, but a user nonetheless. But maybe she’d got him wrong. Or maybe he’d grown up.

‘It sounds like a fantastic project,’ she said. ‘But none of this is why you wanted to have dinner with me, is it?’

Rupert looked at her, startled. ‘No,’ he admitted, and looked down.

‘I’m guessing you want Belle Vue. For your portfolio.’

‘Belle Vue?’

He frowned, puzzled, as if he didn’t understand. Kate smiled to herself. She would have given him more points if he’d put his hands up.

‘My parents’ house. I assume you want it for Pennfleet Holiday Cottages?’

He scowled. ‘Who told you that?’

Kate felt a flicker of triumph. She was one step ahead of him.

‘I’ll give you first refusal. But I don’t want any messing about. I’ve got a fair price in mind. It would suit me not to have to put it on the open market.’

Rupert sat back in his chair. He took a thoughtful sip from his glass.

‘Is that really why you think I asked you for dinner?’ he asked.

‘Isn’t it?’

He stared at her evenly. ‘I know you probably don’t think a great deal of me, but I’m not that crass.’

Kate felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe she had jumped to conclusions?

‘If I wanted Belle Vue, I would contact you through your solicitor and make a formal offer. Not schmooze you like some sleazy wheeler dealer.’

Kate’s cheeks started to burn. ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

He grinned at her. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘It’s impossible to offend me. If you want to sell your house, we can talk about it. But not now. This is supposed to be taking your mind off things.’

Kate didn’t know what to say. She’d thought she was so clever, and she’d got him totally wrong. Unless this was a double bluff, and he was making her feel guilty on purpose. Either way, she shouldn’t have mentioned Belle Vue.

‘I’m so sorry—’ she started, but he put up a hand to cut her off, then refilled her glass.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.

They chatted amicably throughout the rest of the meal, Kate regaling him with stories of her rather ridiculous lifestyle, and Rupert filling her in with his siblings’ escapades. After pudding, which was a sinful damson crème brûlée, Luca the chef came out of the kitchen with a bottle of vintage port to go with the cheeseboard and sat down with them. With his wild dark curls tied back in a bandana, and brooding eyes, he cut a romantic figure.

‘I love your cooking,’ Kate told him. ‘It was like a taste of England for me. It makes me wish I didn’t have to go back.’

‘It’s a great time of year for food,’ said Luca. ‘I love the autumn. I can be strong and robust again. Get some depth of flavour.’

‘Yeah, OK, Luca,’ said Rupert. ‘We don’t need a gastro-lecture.’