There was something else he wanted to do whilst in Paris – find out what had happened to André Vaillant. He had spent so long reading the man’s diary that he felt he knew him and he couldn’t believe that Vaillant had abandoned Ruth. He had a contact in the army archives and asked him to dig out Vaillant’s service record and any information he could find on the man. His friend had scanned and emailed the documents to Stefan as he was waiting to board his plane back to London that very morning. The papers confirmed what he’d thought all along. Vaillant was no heartless, cowardly seducer. Something had happened that had prevented him from going back to Red Moss…
Being busy and on the move had stopped him from brooding too much about Cassie, but every time he was alone, images of her tormented him. Her smile and luminous grey eyes; her body stretching on the bed or nestling in his arms; her smile and her kindness…
Cassie… Once the black mist of self-doubt and jealousy had cleared, it had been too late to make amends. Would she ever forgive him for what he’d said to her and how he’d behaved at the wedding reception? He hadn’t truly believed Hardy’s slimy accusations that she’d only been after Charlie’s bonus – he knew her better than that. She was fun, loyal, and kind, and she cared about him, that much he knew.
It was her kindness that had pushed her into his arms, and it was his fault if he had been too quick to believe that there was something between them – that the story of the beautiful swan in love with a hunchback wasn’t just an old folk tale. It was obvious Cassie was still smitten with her swanky interior designer, so smitten in fact that she was ready to forgive him for stealing her ideas and accept his offer of a job.
He owed it to her to help her live her dream, so whilst in London, he had met Gabrielle for a coffee and told her about Cassie’s design ideas for Belthorn and the holiday cottages. Charlie’s sister planned to get more involved in the estate in the New Year, and said she wanted to see her work. Whether Cassie now followed through would be up to her… Even though Cassie hadn’t complained about Hardy, Stefan had also told Gabrielle about the estate manager’s bullish attitude. ‘I did pick up a few bad vibes about him,’ Gabrielle had said before promising to drive up to Red Moss in the next few weeks and meet up with him.
The tractor turned into a dirt road at last and Stefan was able to step on the accelerator. Driving into the village, he was relieved to see the OPEN sign in the teashop window.
He may have wandered the streets of Paris and London without anyone paying him any attention, but there mustn’t be many strangers in December in Wizard’s Point, and as soon as he walked into the teashop, ten heads turned towards him, all conversations stopped and curious female eyes stared at him, from his army boots to his now shorter hair that the sea breeze had ruffled.
‘Ladies.’ He nodded and chose a table near the window, repressing a groan of pain as he sat down. The hours spent driving hadn’t done his back any favours.
A young woman took his order, and he killed time by reading through the local gazette, which a previous customer had left behind. The conversations resumed around him, and from what he could make out, a certain Tony Snell, whose funeral had taken place in the morning, provided the main topic of discussion.
‘He was a mess in the end, poor Tony, and that’s not surprising since he’d been drinking himself silly every single day for the past six months,’ one woman was saying.
‘The poor man was depressed,’ another objected, ‘and who could blame him? He lost everything. Not only did the police think he was involved in the burglaries in and around the village, but his father went doolally and squandered all their money… And then Sandra left him.’
‘Squandered?’ Somebody chipped in. ‘He always said he had no idea where the money went, and if old Will Snell did indeed lose his marbles, it was all very sudden. My niece used to work at the campsite and she said there was nothing wrong with him until she went on holidays last May. When she returned two weeks later, he was confused, forgetful – and a completely different person.’
‘Perhaps it was his medication. It can happen.’
‘Poor man… he buried his only son today, the campsite that had been in his family for fifty years is in ruin, and now he’s on his own at the nursing home.’
The waitress came back with Stefan’s coffee and the pie and chips he had ordered. Something the women said made him pay attention again. ‘What happened to that young man you used to go out with last spring, Bryony, the one who was so helpful? Nothing was ever too much trouble for him.’
The waitress was gathering dirty cups. She paused. ‘Darren? He went back to Manchester, I think.’
‘You were upset when he left the campsite, weren’t you, love?’
The girl nodded, and sighed. ‘I was, but I knew he would leave sooner or later. To be fair, my nan missed him as much as I did. He was always at her house, fixing one thing or another.’
‘He helped a lot of old folks out with their shopping and things. He was Tony Snell’s right hand man for a while.’
‘Oh yes?’ another woman said. ‘And look where that got poor Tony! Despite all the good things people said about him, there was something I didn’t trust about that Darren. He was a shady character.’
He had heard enough. When the waitress came to his table and asked him if he would like anything else, he smiled.
‘I was wondering if I could have a word with you.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘I’m sorry, Cassie, but I don’t need you any more,’ Sylvia Gasby said in lieu of greeting. ‘There’s only me here, and a cleaner was a luxury I can’t afford.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Cassie smiled to hide her disappointment. Sylvia was the third client that week to finish with Bluebell Cleaning. ‘Would it help if I came less often – every other week, for example?’ she asked in a hopeful voice.
Sylvia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want you to come at all. Tell me how much I owe you for this month and I’ll pay you now.’
She sounded nervous, on edge. Poor Sylvia. The burglary must have taken its toll on her.
‘Don’t worry about it now. I’ll pop my invoice in your letterbox later this week.’
The woman nodded. ‘All right, but I want my spare set of keys back straight away.’
She extended her hand and Cassie frowned. Sylvia had never been so rude before.
‘Of course,’ she mumbled, pulling a bunch of keys out of her bag, together with a Post-it note. ‘Here is your joke for the week. It’s one of Granddad’s latest. I hope you like it.’
Sylvia stuffed the keys in the pocket of her cardigan and read the note aloud. ‘Why was the podiatrist angry at the traffic warden? Because his car was towed away.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t get it… Ah yes, towed, as in toe.’ A smile shivered on the corners of her mouth, and she slipped the paper into her pocket. ‘Your granddad is a dear, dear man.’
Suddenly she looked about to burst into tears and Cassie stepped forward to comfort her. ‘Whatever is the matter, Sylvia? Can I help at all? You seem upset.’
Sylvia recoiled with a gasp. ‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all. Goodbye.’