The Art of Deception (Choc Lit) (17 page)

He
hesitated and then took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think the collapse of his company was the only strain your father was under. There was something else, too. Please don’t hate me for telling you this, but I think your parents were having personal problems.’

‘
Never,’ she whispered. She felt the blood drain from her face.

‘
I’m sorry, but it’s true. Don’t blame her too much. She was extremely young when you were born, and they obviously had very little money. It may have been that she felt trapped by everything; I don’t know. But whatever it was, she appeared to become infatuated with Peter.’

She gasped in disbelief.

‘Believe me, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Jenny,’ he went on, ‘but she made a pass at Peter one day when he’d stopped by to see Francis, and Francis was out.’

‘
She wouldn’t have done. And it was never mentioned at the inquest or in the newspapers.’

‘
I’m afraid she did. But Peter adored his wife and little boy – Stephen – and he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her. Peter was never asked about your parents’ personal life, and I think, perhaps, he didn’t want to embarrass your mother by volunteering the information. He was probably a bit more brutal in turning her down than he needed to be; I think he said your mother took it quite badly. Somehow or other, your father found out and I suspect that the stress and fear of losing not only his business, but also the wife and child he loved, was what caused him to kill himself.’

She
vigorously shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. Mum wouldn’t do such a thing – she loved my father and she wouldn’t go after someone else, and she certainly wouldn’t lie to me.’

‘
I’ve told you the truth. Your mother’s grief over your father’s death was probably mixed up with intense guilt, and perhaps also anger at Peter’s rejection. I expect that blaming my family came from a combination of things.’

‘
I don’t believe that of my mother,’ she said stiffly. ‘She loved my father so much that she still hasn’t got over his death. And I don’t think she’d lie to me and keep on lying to me. I want you to go now, please.’

Max
hesitated, then put his hand in his pocket, took out his mobile phone and set it down on the table next to the wall.

‘
It’s up to you what you do now, Jenny. I can understand you wanting to believe your mother, and it’s only right that you should feel that way. But when you’ve had time to mull things over, if you feel that you’d like to ask her to explain what happened, now that you’re old enough to put everything into perspective, then you can use my phone. I’ll leave you now, though, since that’s clearly what you want.’

He
went through the patio doors, across the terrace and out of sight. Not once had he looked back, she realised, as she stared at the place where he’d stood.

‘
Mum wouldn’t have lied to me, she wouldn’t. I just don’t believe it,’ she told herself firmly, sinking to her knees on the floor.

Her
words reverberated in the emptiness around her.

Chapter Sixteen

There was a
light tap on the door and it opened slightly. Jenny glanced up from her seat on the floor, her face pale and tear-streaked. Hope sprang to her eyes. George’s head appeared through the gap, and her heart sank.

He cleared his throat.
‘Excuse me, Jennifer. I won’t be in your way, will I, if I join you for a few moments? If it’s not convenient, however …’

‘
Of course, you won’t be in the way,’ she said flatly. ‘Come in.’

As he came into the room, s
he saw that he looked very tired, and she felt a stab of guilt at how unwelcoming she must have sounded. ‘No, do come in, Mr Rayburn – George. I’d be glad of the company,’ she added, making a great effort to sound as if she meant it.

‘
Thank you, dear lady.’ He closed the door behind him, went over to one of the armchairs and sat down. ‘Please, don’t let me interrupt you. I can see that you’re busy.’ He glanced down at the floor. ‘It’s hard to believe that we produced so much work in so little time.’ He indicated the pictures.

‘
I know what you mean. You should have seen everything spread out yesterday. It really was quite impressive.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘To be honest, George, you’re not really interrupting anything. I can’t seem to get into the right mood today. It must be the Howard and Paula factor. I still can’t stop thinking about what they did, or rather what they tried to do. And all the things they said to deceive us. Who would have believed it of them?’

‘
Who indeed? Nevertheless, in the end you were cleverer than they. It’s down to you that they were caught.’

‘
Down to me?’

‘
It was you, was it not, who noticed the suitcase discrepancy? You deserve a pat on the back. You proved to be quite the detective.’

She shook her head.
‘I’m not so sure about that. My record for detection isn’t exactly hot in other areas. What kind of detective accepts what they’re told without question, just because it comes from their mother? Maybe at first they do, but not year after year after year.’

‘
You are being too hard on yourself, Jennifer. It’s understandable to put your trust in someone you love.’

‘
Well then, what kind of detective doesn’t recognise that they’re starting to feel too much for someone they shouldn’t?’ She shook her head and tried to laugh. ‘Ignore me, George. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. How are you? Did you get all of your packing done or would you like some help?’

‘
Everything is done, thank you, apart from the last few things which I shall put into my case just before I leave.’ He gave a little cough and shifted his position in the chair. ‘I’m afraid that I couldn’t help overhearing snippets of the conversation between you and Max,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I do apologise, dear lady. I didn’t want to hear, but I was sitting on the patio in front of my bedroom, enjoying the view, and the doors here were wide open.’

She stared at him in consternation.
‘Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, George. What must you think of us. Of me particularly. How embarrassing.’

‘
What I think is completely unimportant. It’s what you and Max think that matters. More than that: it’s what you both feel.’

‘
If you heard what we said to each other, then you’ll know that I’ve hated him since I was twelve years old.’

‘
To be precise, you didn’t actually hate Max – you hated what you thought he’d done. There’s a great difference, if I may venture to say so. You didn’t know Max other than through your mother’s words. When you met him and got to know him, you fell in love with the man you found him to be. Now that you know he’s innocent of any wrongdoing – and I think you know that in your heart, do you not – you are free to love him. Is that not so?’

She stared at George,
and then nodded slowly. ‘You’re right – deep down, I know Max isn’t lying. I trust him completely, and I know he isn’t capable of doing something deliberately cruel. But if Max is telling the truth – and I’m sure he is – then my mother isn’t, and where does that leave her and me? Even if I could accept that she lied at the time of my father’s death, it’s hard to believe that she would carry on lying for so long afterwards.’

‘
Would it not be an idea to call your mother and talk to her?’ he suggested. ‘It seems unlikely that you will be able to leave matters as they are now, not if you want any peace of mind, that is. Max has left you his telephone expressly for that purpose.’

She glanced towards the mobile phone.
‘I suppose I could, couldn’t I?’ Then she looked back at George. ‘But again, it’s not that straightforward, is it? If I force her to confess, I’ll humiliate her, and I wouldn’t want to do that. She
is
my mother, after all, and she’s always been a wonderful mother.’

‘
It is possible, my dear girl, that your mother has been unhappy for years about the lie she’d felt obliged to tell, and to keep on telling. She may welcome a momentary humiliation if it means putting an end to the deception.’

‘
But no one obliged her to do anything. She could have told me the truth from the very start.’

He raised his eyebrows.
‘Indeed? I am trying to imagine how a mother would tell her young daughter, who had just lost her father, that the advances she’d made to another man had added to the father’s stress to such an extent that he’d killed himself. It’s hard to see how such a revelation could help the daughter in her time of grief, and at a time when all she had left was her mother. No, far better to blame it on someone else, I would have thought. And in this way also make sure that the daughter didn’t hold herself responsible for her father’s death.’

She stared at him.
‘When you put it like that, I can see why she decided to blame the Castaniens at the time. But surely she could have told me the truth when I got older.’

‘
I suspect that the longer you live with a lie, the harder it is to rectify it. There may never have seemed a right time to come clean, as they say. Nor any reason for her to do so. And your mother may have even come to believe that what she told you was the truth.’

‘
I suppose that’s possible.’

‘
As Max said, her first thought will have been for you, Jennifer. Don’t be too hard on her.’

‘
What you say does make sense. I can see that,’ she said slowly.

‘
Be that as it may, I am sure that neither what I say, nor what Max has said, will be sufficient. If you’re to find the closure you seek, you will have to speak to your mother.’ He gestured towards the mobile phone. ‘The means to do so is there. And as it so happens,’ he said, rising awkwardly to his feet, ‘I need to check again that I haven’t left anything in the wardrobe. So if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you now.’

She
jumped up, went quickly to the door and held it open for George.

He
started to walk past her, but then paused. ‘Listen to your heart, Jennifer; it won’t let you down. In your heart you know that Max has spoken the truth; just as in my heart, I know that Agnes would be proud of the progress I’ve made this week. I did the right thing in taking the holiday she and I planned, even if it was alone.’

‘
I’m so glad you feel that way. And I’m also very glad that you were sitting where you were and that you overheard what we said.’

‘
Dear lady,’ he said, gently. ‘Speak to your mother. When you’ve done that, you’ll be free to go and love your man, and if you have a fraction of the happiness with Max that I had with my Agnes, you’re going to be a very happy lady indeed.’

‘Thank you, George.’ Impulsively, s
he leaned across and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Smiling, h
e inclined his head towards her and went through the doorway into the hall.

She
closed the door behind him, leaned back against it for a moment, and then walked over to the table and picked up Max’s phone. Her fingers hovered briefly above the keys, and then she tapped out a number she knew by heart.

Chapter Seventeen

The
late morning sun was beating down on the garden as Jenny pushed the patio doors wide open and went out on to the terrace. Still clutching the mobile phone in her hand, she stood in the shade beneath the awning and stared around her.

Beneath the
deep blue sky, the glossy green and purple sheen of the garden was broken only by the vibrant plants nestling amid the verdant foliage, and by brightly coloured flowers in large terracotta tubs on the terrace.

A
light breeze swept across the garden, ruffling the ferns and the bushes. In between the gently swaying fronds, the pool could be glimpsed, its clear water sparkling in the light of the sun.

B
reathing in deeply, Jenny inhaled the scent of lavender and rosemary.

What a morning it had been
.

It had be
en achingly difficult to bring up a subject so sensitive with her mother, the person who’d loved and cared for her all of her life and who’d done all that she could to help her fulfil her every dream. At first, her questions had been hesitant and embarrassed, but gradually they’d gathered speed until they were pouring out of her, tumbling one after the other, demanding an answer.

Her mother’s initial
reaction had been one of shocked surprise, and she’d rushed to deny everything that Max had claimed, insisting that her original account had been the right one.

Jenny
’d wanted to stop there, to accept without further question her mother’s words and allow her lie to remain, but she couldn’t. Her every instinct told her that only by probing more deeply, hateful though it was to do so, would she clear the air and prevent the lie from coming between them.

She’d c
hallenged her mother again. Once more her mother had vigorously begun to deny everything, but all of a sudden, she’d stopped mid-sentence. There’d been a moment’s silence, and then she’d started to speak again, her voice somehow different this time, and Jenny had heard from her mother the account that she’d first heard from Max.

From then on
, her mother had seemed unable to stop talking, and she’d poured out the whole story amid profuse apologies, and with tears of regret mingled with relief. It was as if Jenny had unlocked the door to something that had been desperate to escape for a very long time.

Her mother
hadn’t attempted to defend herself – quite the opposite, in fact.

S
he’d told Jenny that there was nothing she could say that could justify blaming a family who’d acted fairly towards her father. Eaten up by guilt at the time of her husband’s death, she’d had the idea blaming the Castaniens in a flash. She’d thought it wouldn’t matter what she said as she and Jenny were moving away and were unlikely ever to meet the family again.

Once she’d
accused them, she hadn’t seen a way of stopping and it had never occurred to her that Jenny might one day seek out the Castaniens. She could see now how wrong she’d been, and that she should have long ago told the truth. She’d finished by begging Jenny to forgive her and not to let their relationship be damaged by the revelations. Then she’d fallen silent, waiting.

‘
I can understand why you did it,’ Jenny had told her. ‘And there’s nothing to forgive. In your place I probably would have done the same. You acted as you did out of love.’ And they had both broken down.

‘
I’ve been hating myself for my part in your father’s death for so long, and for lying to you the way I’ve done,’ her mother had told her through her tears. ‘You don’t know how pleased I am that everything’s out in the open at last. I feel I can move on now.’

‘
We both can.’

‘
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m very glad you went to work for Max Castanien, Jenny. I only saw him once – he must have been about nineteen or twenty – and he seemed a nice lad. What’s he like now?’

Jenny
bit her lip in sudden anxiety. If her relationship with Max survived their exchange of words that morning, and if it were to develop in the future – a huge if, but she desperately hoped that it would – she couldn’t just spring it on her mother without having given her at least some warning.

‘
Actually, Mum,’ she’d begun nervously. ‘I ought to—’

But her mother had spoken
across her. ‘It’s all right, Jenny,’ she’d said. ‘I know you so well that I understand what you’re trying to tell me. I’m not saying that it would ever be easy to meet a Castanien again – of course it wouldn’t: so many memories are attached to that family. But if he’s the right man for you, then you’ll have my blessing. It’s the very least you deserve.’

‘
Oh, Mum,’ Jenny breathed, and a great wave of relief coursed through her. ‘Thank you.’

T
hey’d said goodbye soon after that, both drained of emotion, and she’d wandered on to the terrace in a daze.

S
tepping out from under the awning, she put her face up to the sun and let its warmth flow through her. Something tickled her toes and she glanced down. A light breeze was blowing a smattering of white rose petals across her toes. Her eyes followed the petals as they skimmed the surface of the patio and drifted across the grass to the line of cypress trees.

She turned
to face the trees and scanned the distance for Max’s house. He would be in there now, she knew, and she absolutely had to see him. She had to see him that instant – not the following day, not later that day, but as soon as she possibly could. She found herself taking a step forward, and another, and another.

B
y the time she reached the trees, she was running.

Not wanting to waste a precious moment by going
up the slope to the linking path, she sped through the nearest gap in the line of trees and ran straight across the grass to the
loggia.

O
ne thought filled her mind, and that thought was Max.

No matter what
he felt about her now that he knew why she’d gone to work for him, she had to tell him that she was desperately sorry for what she’d said, for what she’d believed about him, and she had to tell him that she loved him with all her heart. Even if she was too late and her feelings were thrown back in her face, she still had to tell him. He had to know.

By the time
she was close to the house, she was panting heavily, and she slowed down to a walk as she reached the
loggia
. The French windows suddenly opened, and Max appeared.

She
stopped sharply and took an involuntary step back.

Standing
motionless in the shadow thrown by the stone pillar, she followed him with her eyes as he walked to the edge of the
loggia
, his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the column nearest to him, gazing at the view.

He had never looked more handsome, s
he thought, in his jeans and a black T-shirt, his face and forearms lightly tanned.

And he
’d never looked more sad and dejected.

Squinting against the sun, h
e glanced up at the sky, and then again stared ahead of him.

W
ith a sigh, he straightened up, turned slightly and caught sight of her.

A
n expression of surprise swept across his face. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took a step towards her.

She
stood staring at him, rooted to the spot, her heart racing as he walked towards her, gathering speed with every step, his eyes asking a question.

He reached her
and stopped. For a moment neither said a word.

Then s
he held out his mobile phone. ‘I thought I ought to return your phone,’ she said, breaking the silence, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

H
is eyes on her face, he took the phone and put it in his pocket. And waited.

‘
My mother told me about Peter and her. Not that there ever was a Peter and her.’ Her voice caught in her throat. ‘I’m so sorry that I blamed you for my father’s death.’

‘
So you
did
call her. I wasn’t sure if you would, and I didn’t know if she’d tell you the truth if you did.’

‘
I didn’t need to hear what she said to know what had happened – I knew in my heart that what you said was true. But I had to get it all out in the open with her, for the sake of the future …’ Her voice trailed off.

His dark brown eyes gazed down at her, warm with
sympathy. ‘That’s what any loyal daughter would do.’

‘
I still feel as if I’ve behaved badly, coming here for the reason I did but not being honest about it.’ He made a move as if to speak, but she shook her head. ‘No, don’t say anything, Max. I must say this while I’ve got the courage to do it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me, but even if you do, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I can’t bear to think of life without you. But I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.’

H
is face broke into a broad smile, and he threw back his head. ‘Yes,’ he cried out to the sky above. ‘Oh, yes!’ And he reached out to her and pulled her close to him. ‘I could never hate you, Jenny – I love you far too much for that.’ And he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

‘
Despite everything?’ she asked, her voice muffled by the T-shirt she was being crushed against.

‘
Definitely despite everything.’ His arms tightened around her. ‘This morning’s been sheer hell. I thought I might have lost you for ever, and I never want to feel that way again. The houses, the paintings, my company – nothing means anything if you can’t share it with the person you love. From the moment I met you,
you
have been the person I love. Without you, my life would be empty.’

She
pulled slightly back and gazed up at him in naked relief. ‘Oh, Max, when you left, I was so unhappy. I thought you wouldn’t want me any more.’

‘
Not want you?’ He stared down into her face with a passion that took her breath away. ‘I shall always want you. You say that you can’t bear to think of life without me, well I know that I can’t bear to think of life without you. And that means there’s only one thing for it. Will you marry me?’

‘
Oh, yes, I will,’ she cried. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you. Now that I can finally say it, I feel so free. And so very, very happy. I don’t deserve to be this happy.’

‘
Yes, you do.’ He lifted his hand and lightly traced the arch of her brow, the line of her nose, the fullness of her lips, the curve of her chin. Then he took her face in his hands and looked down at her.

‘
I’ve many beautiful pictures at home in England,’ he said, his voice full of wonder, ‘and I’ve many beautiful pictures here, but nothing comes close to how beautiful you are to me. You’re a picture that I’ll never tire of looking at, and I shall be the luckiest person alive if I’m able to do so every day for the rest of my life.’

A low sigh of sheer
bliss escaped her, and she raised herself on her toes, brought her lips to his and silenced him.

The End