Two of a Mind (18 page)

Why am I complicating things like this?

“Hang on. I don't need to listen in to your thoughts, Jen. Just ask Henri if he's available to talk privately and I'll Comms him.” I saw the look of relief cross her face before she managed to get it under control.

“Why are the simplest solutions always the hardest to find?” Jen laughed, trying to cover her reaction.

I shrugged half-heartedly. I suspected that everything I'd been going through had clouded my judgement, making normal options seem too easy. Things needed to be sorted out soon though – I was exhausted from the constant changes and mental onslaughts. Sensing my mood, Seth squeezed my hand and gave me a reassuring kiss on my cheek.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's go count chickens and give Jen some privacy.”

“Only those that are hatched,” Jen twisted the ancient saying to lighten the atmosphere. The joke was bad enough to do the trick – I followed Seth outside, shaking my head and groaning at the pun.

We found Dick surrounded by noisily clucking fowl as he threw the feed to the ground for them. I've never been a big fan of chickens but Jen and Dick kept them looking sleek and healthy, some of them looked quite beautiful with their russet feathers shining in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly the chickens scattered, some running in the odd rolling motion that seems so unbalanced, others tried to fly away but could only manage such short distances that they looked as though they were riding pogo-sticks. The source of the commotion came to a standstill in the middle of the yard.

“Did ya leave any biscuits for me, Seth?” Jeremy pointed at the stray crumbs still clinging to Seth's shirt. I would've been annoyed but Seth just laughed, swiped away the crumbs and assured Jeremy that there were still plenty of Aunt Celeste's gingers in the tin.

“Dez,” Jen called from the kitchen door. “Henri is in a meeting but he said he'll call you as soon as he's free.”

“Fine. Thanks Jen.”

“Why d'ya wanna talk to Frenchie?” Jeremy was going through a rude stage of belittling all those that didn't fit with his idea of perfect – so – everyone but himself, of course!

“Jeremy, behave,” sighed his mother. “Dez just needs some first-hand anecdotes for an Academy project.” She winked at me. “Let me know how you get on with it, wont' you, Dez?”

“Sure. Thanks for the help, Jen.” I smiled at her, grateful for her discretion. “See you later then.”

“Thanks for the lemonade and cookies. Bye,” added Seth.

A chorus of “Bye,” “Cheerio,” “Whatever!” followed us out of the farmyard.

“Don't fret, he'll grow up one day,” said Seth when I cringed at Jeremy's parting shot.

“He's such a spoilt brat. I can't understand Aunt Jen letting him get away with it all the time.” I spotted a grin creasing Seth's cheeks and halted mid-rant. “Okay, okay. Who am I to talk? Is that why you're struggling to keep your face straight?”

“Well, you have to admit Dez, it does seem to be a family trait. Your dad spoils you rotten too.” And before I could respond, he pulled me into a hug, pinning my arms by my side and kissing away my indignation. When he felt me relax he released me. “Better now?” he asked.

“Don't push it Wallis,” I warned, but I took his hand and we set off back to his house to wait for Henri's call.

We didn't have to wait long. As Seth opened the front door my Comms kit buzzed and I had to root around in my bag to find it. Why do things disappear even in the smallest of handbags?

“Bonjour, Henri!” I chimed, mangling the rs in my attempt to sound fluent.

“Good day to you too, Desirée,” he crooned in accented English. His voice is so silky smooth, so sexy, so French! He's the one person I really don't mind using my full name, he makes it sound sophisticated and chic. “Jennifer tells me you and the gorgeous Seth need my ‘elp. What can I do for you, cherie?”

“Firstly, dear Henri you can stop flirting with the gorgeous Seth – he's mine!”

“Oh, ‘ow could you do this to me, cherie? I no longer ‘ave the reason to come to England. I am desolate.” I could visualise him dramatically stroking his forehead with the back of his hand and I was tempted to switch to holo-vid to check it out.
“Stop teasing her Henri. Just get on with it.”
Oops – I didn't mean to overhear Aunt Jen. I launched into my explanation of the last few weeks to distract myself from the connection, finishing with my request for Henri to track down Simone.

After a short silence Henri replied, “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even consider this but I suppose these are ‘ardly normal circumstances. I may be able to access the coroner's reports for Nicole and Tomas and see if their PTs were identified. If so, I shall approach Simone myself to see if she is willing to talk to you.”

“Thank you so much, Henri. You're a star.” I felt the lump of anxiety soften in my chest –
at last we might be getting somewhere
.

“Au revoir.” He chuckled at my gushing gratitude. “We'll speak again soon.”

“Bye, Henri and thanks again.” I put my headset back into my titchy bag.

“It's nearly six, Dad'll be home soon. What do you fancy for tea?” Seth asked.

“Do you ever think of anything other than food?”

“Not if I can help it,” he laughed as he rooted through the fridge to see what was on offer.

Henri's call had filled me with nervous energy and I couldn't keep still. I hovered around the kitchen getting in Seth's way until he lost patience and handed me a packet of radishes, telling me to top and tail them while he prepared a green salad.

“Now that's what I like to see – co-operation in the kitchen,” said Samuel on his arrival home. He smiled at our domestic tableau and the realisation that this could be our future came as a bit of a surprise. I was so distracted, in fact, that I managed to top my finger instead of the damned radish! After quite a few scrapes and bruises over the years I'm usually fine with the sight of blood. I turned to the sink and doused the end of my finger with cold water, but the bleeding didn't ease up. The next thing I knew I was on the floor. Seth was holding up my legs and Samuel was patting a cool, damp cloth on my forehead. My first random thought was,
Glad I'm wearing jeans!
Then
Ouch!
as Samuel pressed a cloth firmly onto the injured finger. It bloody well hurt! I also felt sore on my shoulder,
Must have hit it on the way down.

“All right, love,” Samuel said when he noticed I'd opened my eyes. “Take it easy, now. We'll drive you down to the clinic for them to check you over, eh?”

Before I could protest, Seth had me in his arms and we were heading to the car. For the second time in a week I was admitted to the Ellingham clinic emergency department. I shuddered at the feeling of déjà vu and glanced around nervously looking for that awful nurse, sure that she'd be lingering with the dopey juice at the ready. A cute male nurse stuck the tip of my finger down with medical grade nano-glue that stung like hell. When I winced at his friendly pat on my shoulder he sent me for a full scan to check that I hadn't done any further damage during my less-than-graceful faint.

After a few more prods and tests I was discharged. Nurse Bridges joked about staying away from sharp implements as he handed over a set of instructions on wound-care and a single-dose tube of the glue for home treatment in the unlikely event of the cut splitting again. Instinctively showing a possessive streak, Seth wrapped his arm tightly around my shoulder. I gritted my teeth when the developing bruise protested – I didn't want to spoil his macho-moment.

Samuel insisted on taking me straight home to put my parents' minds at ease. He'd called them from the clinic to say what had happened and to assure them that it wasn't serious.

Mum was waiting at the front door,

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much Samuel,” she gushed.

“Don't mention it,” he replied, looking very embarrassed by Mum's fussing. “We'll let you get on,” he added and turned to leave but Mum grabbed his arm.

“No. Please come in. Don't rush home.” Mum guided us all into the lounge and started piling up cushions until they looked like a squishy Leaning Tower of Pisa.

“Here you go, love,” she said as she deposited the pile on my lap. “Prop your arm up on there to keep the blood flow light.” This was an unexpected reaction, especially after the restrained welcome home the previous week!
But we do seem to be getting on better these days,
I thought,
Best make the most of it in case it doesn't last.

Dad came in, balancing a huge tray filled with a selection of drinks, sandwiches and cakes.

“We thought you might like some supper, having missed your evening meal,” he said, as he offered the refreshments to Samuel and Seth. When appetites were satisfied, the men started discussing the latest cricket results and Mum kept glancing my way to make sure I hadn't quietly expired. In spite of my best efforts, I did start to wilt fairly quickly. I was drained from the excitement of the latest trauma, even if it was only a cut finger – I was sure I'd lost half my body's blood supply at least! Some unspoken gesture alerted Seth and I was in his arms again as he carried me to my room. Mum climbed the stairs ahead of us, no doubt feeling we needed a chaperone now that we were a couple.

“See you tomorrow,” Seth whispered as he kissed my forehead. His fingers swept down my cheek and I grabbed his hand to kiss his palm. Mum was standing by the door and couldn't have seen the gesture but her expression was one of mixed feelings. I allowed myself to sense her thoughts – it was wrong of me, I know, but I'm not perfect. Surprisingly, she had no negative thoughts about Seth, she was very fond of him, but she was worried about me becoming sexually active and she was concerned about the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy.
Why can't parents trust their kids?
The memory of my sudden hunger for sex with Seth the other day answered the question for me.

But that wasn't really me! Was it?

“No, Gramps, the campaign's going fine. Don't worry, L and D are enjoying the kudos of having the youngest independent candidate coming from their firm.”

“Are you sure you're prepared to break off your career if you're elected? Even a back-bench MP has a huge responsibility to their constituents.” Matt Simpson's hologram features creased with his concern.

“The law and politics – what could be a better combination? When I did my gap-year with Johnsons I saw how difficult it was to make real change happen. Politicians lost their passion a long time ago. Maybe having PTs tones it down for some people but I'm lucky – mine's as committed as I am. Come on Gramps, you and Great-Granny Julia made your mark funding the tele-prep introduction. It's our generation's turn.”

“Okay, okay!” Matt waved his hands in surrender. “We Lords do our bit for King and Country too you know,” he laughed. “I don't need your rallying speech, young lady.”

“Sorry.” Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I get carried away sometimes.”

“Your mother has invited us all for Sunday lunch. Will you be able to join us?”

She grinned at her grandfather's attempt to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

“Love to,” she said. “And I might have something to share with you by then.” She winked and watched the hologram of Matt's puzzled face dissolve as she broke the connection.

She turned to the pile of papers strewn across the floor. Great-Granny Julia's notes, cuttings and old official documents from her great-grandfather's time in the House of Lords held the clue, she was sure of it. As a lawyer she'd learned that there were few truly significant coincidences in life – or death. She had a talent for finding patterns that revealed the connections of apparently unrelated incidents.

Her interest in Julia's obsession with the Trevalyn family had been reignited when her mentor Dale Johnson fell ill. He and Victor Trevalyn had been working together on a project in Lipostzi at the time. The media reported that a suspected drugs overdose had caused Dale's collapse but Beth wasn't prepared to accept that, despite the evidence of the leaked medical records.

She slid from the sofa to sit on the floor, picked up a sheaf of hand-written notes and began to read through them – again. Three hours later she sighed, straightened her stiff back and rubbed at her eyes. This was proving to be a toughie. She opened the Comms system and began trawling the InfoNet for any references to items that Julia had listed. Despite their global presence the Trevalyn Corporation had very little press – good or bad. Victor was a virtual recluse and she had to rely on her memory of him from that reception almost three years ago. The last time she'd seen Dale face-to-face too. It would've been nice to call him for advice but the twist was that without his sudden collapse, Beth wouldn't have been looking through Julia's files.

“Coffee!” Beth needed a break but didn't want to go to bed just yet. She wandered into the kitchen, pausing to look at her digi-snap board. Her gap-year group grinned through the dust and sweat of their hard work. E-cards from friends now living abroad framed the collage of family events. One of those snaps gave her a renewed burst of energy. She tapped the board and the picture enlarged to show Beth as a child, dressed in a peach bridesmaid dress and lacy tights. She was standing with the bride and groom, slightly forward of the happy couple and straining to be the centre of attention – then, she'd thought their smiles were just for her. She knew better now of course.

“Uncle Jonny and Aunt Ce-Ce,” she whispered. Maybe it was the time to test her theory about their professional past.