2 From Planning … to Plotting

2

From Planning … to Plotting

I walk through the door to see Grandma sitting at her kitchen table in some sort of daze. She doesn’t even look up to acknowledge me. Invariably, when I pop in at this time on a Sunday morning, she’s on her third cup of tea and sitting here reading a book.

I draw to a halt and finally she glances up as I slip off my coat and hurry over to sit down next to her.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’ My heart begins to thud in my chest. Is she feeling unwell? I wonder.

‘It’s Elizabeth. She rang about half an hour ago. She had some tragic news yesterday and she’s rather distraught. When I suggested I go straight round to keep her company, she said she’d been up most of the night and was just about to go and lie down for a while.’

Oh no … that’s a bad sign indeed. The two of them have supported each other through thick and thin, and she always turns to Grandma. ‘Has someone died?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Would you like some tea? This has gone cold.’ Grandma begins to ease herself up off the seat, but I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

‘I’ll make it.’

Gosh, I sincerely hope it isn’t one of Elizabeth’s close family, not so soon after losing Freddie.

Grandma remains silent, which is unusual for her as she’s a chatterbox by nature. When I return to the table with the tray, I sit patiently for a few minutes to let the tea brew before pouring it.

‘Is there anything I can do … should I call in and check on her?’

‘Veronica’s there and she’ll keep an eye out. She’ll ring me if there’s a problem. Elizabeth was insistent that all she needed was a little time to process what’s happened.’

Georgina is the live-in housekeeper at the Hall from Monday to Friday. First thing on a Saturday morning her daughter picks her up for the weekend and pops her back early at the start of the working week. Veronica lives locally and covers at weekends, but she’s never stayed overnight. I doubt Elizabeth would ask her to, given that she has three school-age children at home and a husband who works on a farm and is up with the lark on Saturday mornings.

‘I don’t think she has family staying this weekend. Is it wise for her to be there all alone tonight?’ I question.

Grandma sighs. ‘Maybe I’ll give Elizabeth a call a bit later. She might change her mind after a short nap and appreciate some company.’

I place a fresh cup of tea in front of Grandma, and I can see she’s conflicted.

‘Anything you share with me I’ll keep to myself; you know that. I’ve always been loyal to Elizabeth and Freddie.’

It’s hard to see her so agitated and I watch as she wrings her hands. ‘Oh, Sienna. It’s awful, truly awful.’

What can be more awful than losing Freddie? I ask myself.

‘It’s … it’s her son, Peter. He was only fifty-four!’ There’s a note of disbelief in her voice.

I gasp. ‘She has a son?’

‘You can’t mention this to anyone, Sienna, including your mum. No one in Freddie and Elizabeth’s family ever talk about Peter, as he cut all contact with them many years ago. Long before they moved to Darlingham, and in that respect, it made life easier for them here.’

My eyes widen as her words sinks in. ‘What on earth could Freddie and Elizabeth have done to cause their only son to cut all contact with them? They are two of the most caring people I know,’ I declare.

Grandma gives me a winsome smile. ‘It’s hard to comprehend, isn’t it? I think you ended up becoming a bit of a substitute for what was missing in their lives, Sienna. For whatever reason they couldn’t rescue Peter, but they both knew that all you needed was a chance to … blossom at a time when you were finding life a little overwhelming. And look at you now!’

‘Yes, but … to have no contact at all, that’s unimaginable …’ I tail off.

‘I know. My last memory of Peter was the summer they all came to visit Elizabeth’s brothers. It was before you were born. Pops and I joined them for a picnic, but Freddie and his son had a huge row. It spoiled the day out for everyone. It was their last holiday together as a family.’

Curiosity gets the better of me. ‘What on earth is so unforgivable that it ends up turning their lives upside down forever?’

Grandma shrugs her shoulders, sadly. ‘The answer to that is bad enough, apparently, that there was no recovering from it.’

I push the teacup and saucer closer, encouraging her to take a sip.

‘I don’t know the full story, Sienna. It all happened while they were living in London. It’s not something I feel comfortable talking about so this conversation is … just between us, right?’

‘Of course. Now drink your tea and, when you’re ready, give Elizabeth another call. If she’s ready for company, I’ll drop you round there.’

It’s a relatively short walk from Grandma’s cottage to Silverberry Hall, but there’s a light drizzle in the air again today. There’s nothing worse than being wet and miserable.

An hour later and I can rest a little easier, having dropped Grandma and her overnight bag at the Hall. I know from experience that in times of great distress, talking helps. But I’m struggling to understand; you don’t turn your back on family because of a row. In the heat of the moment we’re all capable of blurting out things we regret. However I can’t even begin to imagine what happened that was so serious it tore their family apart. This goes much deeper and what I find particularly disturbing, is that neither Freddie nor Elizabeth are the sort of people who hold grudges. So this was all down to their son, and that too, is puzzling.

When I arrive at the Hall on Monday morning, I make my way to the kitchen. Georgina is busy scrambling some eggs, but she looks a tad flustered.

‘Morning, Georgina. Is everything all right?’ I ask, trying to sound bright and breezy.

She beckons me over. ‘Elizabeth and your grandma are in the orangery. Something’s not right. I’m taking them in a light breakfast, so I suggest you leave them to it.’

‘Thanks for the heads-up. If anyone asks, I’ll be in the study working on the Christmas party itinerary.’

‘You don’t know what’s going on, then?’

I shrug my shoulders. ‘I’ll just grab a coffee and make myself scarce. Some days are better than others, at the moment, aren’t they?’

I have a lot of respect for Georgina. As both the cook and the housekeeper, she’s in charge of two part-time helpers. Silverberry Hall is a large property and a lot to take on but she fitted in from day one. Freddie was a stickler for using local, organic produce. He also appreciated her attempts to wean him and his wife off high sugar desserts and replace them with healthier ones.

She’s in her mid-forties and has been a widow for quite a few years. Her daughter lives in the delightful village of Bromsberrow, in the Forest of Dean. Georgina has two grandchildren, but that’s all I know about her. However, even though her heart is in the right place, my lips are sealed because of the promise I made to Grandma.

‘Oh well, if I can get them to eat something, at least it might lift their spirits.’

The tray on the table has a plate heaped high with a selection of chopped fresh fruit and a bowl of yoghurt. Along with some toast and a pot of home-made jam, I think they might be tempted.

As I head into the study I, too, am feeling concerned. How much grief can a person handle at one time? I ponder. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like losing a son under normal circumstances. Having lost contact so many years ago, this will have raked up all manner of emotions for Elizabeth. The fact that Freddie isn’t with her to share the sorrow, and the inevitable pain, is heart-rending. I’m glad Grandma is here, because often it’s easier to open up to a close and trusted friend, than it is to a family member. Especially as it’s a such a painful subject to broach.

Yesterday the mood at the Hall was somewhat sombre. It’s clear that Elizabeth is battling to come to terms with what has happened. Thankfully, those around her not in the know simply assume it’s due to the natural ups and downs of the grieving process after losing Freddie. This morning, Georgina told me that she was late down to breakfast and we’ve yet to cross paths.

It’s almost eleven o’clock when my phone begins to buzz, and I see that it’s a call from Daniela.

‘I have a cast!’ she exclaims, the moment I put the phone to my ear.

‘Uh …’ I sit back in my chair, trying to clear my head. It’s full of figures from costing out the different elements of the party. ‘A cast?’

‘You wanted a little Christmas entertainment. I’ve talked some old friends into doing a repeat performance of a short play we did together back in our uni days.’

‘You have? That’s awesome news and very welcome at the moment.’

‘You sound a little down this morning. Are you OK?’

‘Yeah,’ I bluster, ‘I’m fine. I … uh … didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. My head was buzzing. You know me, until I have everything tied up, I’m on edge. But I’m getting there and now I can tick another item off the list!’

‘The thing is … it’s a Christmas sketch I wrote, and as time isn’t on our side, it’s the easiest option.’

After I quit my studies at Bristol University, Daniela went on to gain a BA in Theatre and English.

‘You did? You kept that incredibly quiet.’

‘It was a one-night performance in aid of charity and there were several performances. It was when you were … when you returned to Darlingham.’

We both know she’s talking about the year I quit the shared house that five of us rented in Bristol. Leaving them in the lurch to find a replacement wasn’t my proudest moment but the pressure was too much. I did what most people would do in that situation, I headed home to my mum.

It would have been nerve-wracking for Daniela actually writing something her little crowd performed, and I missed it. Now I feel badly for being so wrapped up in myself at the time.

‘It solves a big problem,’ she continues. ‘No licences, or permissions required. We rehearsed like crazy as if it were a gala performance. Everyone has agreed to perform their old role, except one. I’m not giving up on him, as he’s a Mr Darcy lookalike. Well, he was seven years ago,’ she laughs.

‘Why won’t he join in?’

‘Oliver lives and works in London these days. He designs sets for videos and occasionally for plays. The bonus is that he can also roll up his sleeves and get hands on when necessary. His parents have a small farm, but he says he’s allergic to the countryside. They go to visit him, not the other way around.’

‘Allergies, really? Poor chap.’ I’m thinking maybe when the pollen count is high but what’s his excuse in the winter months? Maybe it’s the country smells he turns his nose up at after the delights of exhaust fumes. ‘I bet his parents enjoy a trip to the big city, though.’

‘I think the truth might be that he’s nervous about performing again,’ she continues. ‘Even so, I’m sure I can talk him into it. Even though I penned the script, it went down so well I think it’ll be perfect for Elizabeth’s special party this year. It’s thirty-five minutes long, so short enough to be entertaining, but not long enough to bore people.’

‘Aww … thank you, Daniela. You have no idea what a boost it’ll give Elizabeth when I tell her. I’m just about to finalise the design for the invitations. What’s the play called?’

‘ One Magical Christmas . It’s about a young woman looking out and watching a man having fun in the snow with his children.’

‘Oh, that instantly conjures up some pictures in my head.’ I imagine a shop with a snow-covered window and someone gazing out in wonder. ‘It sounds perfect! Honestly, I owe you big time for this!’

‘I know you do. Anyway, aside from talking Oliver into doing a repeat performance, I will need to sort out some overnight accommodation. Two of the cast live a short drive away but the other three would probably appreciate an overnight stay, especially if the weather is bad. I only have two spare bedrooms, so they’ll have to toss a coin for them.’

‘Leave sorting out the other room to me. One of the estate’s cottages might be empty at the time, you never know.’

‘Then we’re all set. We will need to work out what props are required to make it work; that’s why I’m determined to talk Oliver into getting involved. Let me know if there are any restrictions gaining access to the barn.’

The door opens and it’s a relief to see Elizabeth walk into the room with a folder in her hands, ready to start the working day. It seems she’s finally rallying a little after this recent setback and I smile at her as she takes a seat.

‘I’m pretty sure we don’t have any upcoming events, Daniela, but I’ll check and get back to you. Thanks, and I mean that! We’ll speak soon.’

Elizabeth returns my smile as I put down the phone, but there’s a general air of weariness reflected in her demeanour.

‘Good morning, Sienna. Was that good news?’ Elizabeth looks worryingly pale, but her voice is steady.

‘Yes.’ I watch as her face brightens. ‘We have a performance lined up for the party. They will need to come on site though, to do a bit of rehearsing and design some props for the stage.’

‘That’s fine by me. You have free rein as usual.’

However, it’s as if a light has gone out inside of her. No wonder Grandma has been keeping a close eye; she’s been spending more time here than she has in her own home. It’s tough seeing her dearest friend looking so forlorn and lost. But the fact that Grandma isn’t here this morning, bodes well.

As for me, it’s hard to know what to say when I’m supposed to know nothing. But I owe this proud woman so much; she’s like family to me now, and it feels wrong not acknowledging her loss.

‘Elizabeth, if there’s anything at all I can do, you only have to say.’

‘Oh, Sienna. I have nowhere to turn and what I need is information, but it’s such a delicate matter.’

There’s a look of desperation reflected in her eyes that is troubling to see.

‘I’m all about the detail and you know that I would never share your personal business with anyone.’

She straightens her back and draws in a deep breath. ‘Your grandma told me she confided in you about my estranged son, Peter. No one else in my circle, other than the two of you, are aware of what’s happened. It’s a lot to take in, obviously.’

Elizabeth turns her head to stare out the window for the briefest of moments, as I sit quietly watching her.

‘Old friends and family know that Peter cut us off completely and his name is never mentioned. I think it’s best it stays that way. As for the new friends we’ve made since we moved here following Freddie’s retirement, well … people assumed we didn’t have any children and it was something we never alluded to. However, Peter left a part of his estate to his son.’

I gaze at her blankly. ‘You have a grandson?’

‘Yes, and that was totally unexpected. His name is James, apparently. Peter’s widow is the executor of the estate. According to the letter I received from her solicitors, she isn’t James’s mother, and she wasn’t even aware of his existence. Or that Peter had made provision for him in his will until it was read. Argh!’ Elizabeth chokes back a bitter sob. ‘What a mess and the bitter irony of it is too overwhelming to comprehend. Freddie and Peter … two stubborn men, neither of them really listening to what the other one was saying and look where that led.’ The sigh she emits is harrowing to hear.

I shake my head sadly, because words fail me.

Elizabeth gazes down at the folder in her hands, her expression frozen for a few seconds, before she hands it across the desk to me. ‘There isn’t a single day since Peter disappeared from our lives that Freddie, or I, haven’t thought about him … hoping that he’d reach out to us. Knowing that a part of Peter lives on in his son means so much, so very much, even though we’re total strangers,’ she says, shakily.

‘Oh, Elizabeth, it’s heartbreaking.’

The look I see reflected in her eyes is hard to witness: turmoil, confusion and a depth of sadness that strikes me to the core.

She draws in a deep breath, steeling herself. ‘It turns out that Peter had been living in Italy all this time. He died several months ago, and it’s only since the reading of the will that this development has come to light. The solicitors dealing with his estate on behalf of his wife, Mrs Isabella Blakesley, hired a specialist agency to track James down. They haven’t been able to find him, although they did trace his birth mother, Briony—’ Her voice wavers and she pauses for a moment to compose herself. ‘There was a letter in his personal effects from her to Peter, telling him she was pregnant and that she was sorry they’d argued. It was dated shortly after he disappeared from our lives, so I assume they were still seeing each other at that point. However, there was nothing to confirm they had any further contact and, if they did, he chose not to keep a record of it. I find it almost impossible, and distressing, to believe that my son would simply turn his back on them until now; sadly, that seems to be the case.’

I sit quietly until Elizabeth is ready to continue, her emotions in free fall.

‘What the investigators can confirm is that Briony had a son six months later, but the father’s name was missing from the birth certificate. The thing is … I remember her! Peter brought a young lady to tea once at the old house in London just before the big row. He was involved in some sort of project and was working in Gloucester at the time, although he was based in Oxford.

‘Even though it was frosty between Freddie and Peter that day, Briony was such a pleasant young lady and easy to talk to. She told us that her family live in Gloucestershire and when she mentioned her surname, Stuart-Adams, Freddie was delighted. He told her that he’d played golf with her grandfather once. We had high hopes the relationship might go somewhere, and Peter would consider settling down.’

‘You said was ?’

‘According to the report in this folder, she died a while back. Briony’s family refused to answer any questions about her, or her son, saying she lost touch with them when she moved away. When exactly that was, isn’t clear. The investigator believes that James changed his name by deed poll, because there’s no trace of him under his mother’s family name. Anyway, the full report is in there. They’re reaching out to see if we can supply any information that might help further their enquiries.’

No wonder Elizabeth is reeling. The unexpected death of her son and the news that she has a grandson she knows nothing about is shock enough; but to discover that from a solicitor’s letter is almost beyond belief.

‘Why didn’t Peter’s widow contact you directly?’

‘Isabella speaks hardly any English. Discovering that her husband has close family members alive in the UK, came as a total surprise to her …’ She draws to a halt, staring into space. ‘Somewhere out there is a man in his early thirties, who probably believes he was abandoned not only by his father, but by just about every other family member he has.’ Her voice is almost hoarse.

‘What can I do to help?’

Elizabeth sighs, and as our eyes meet, that haunted look makes my stomach begin to churn. ‘I can’t change the past, but my conscience won’t allow me to sit back and do nothing when he’s made a bequest to his son.’

I understand Elizabeth can’t let this go, but the reality is – given what she’s told me – that she’s as much in the dark as everyone else. However, a cold chill suddenly sends a shiver down my spine. Normally, Elizabeth is very open with me and yet it’s what she’s not telling me that is concerning. Family members row all the time and it might be a coincidence, of course, but fleeing to Italy is a rather dramatic turn of events. Alarm bells are starting to ring in my head. As I sit here trying to dovetail this information with what Grandma told me, Elizabeth begins speaking again.

‘The investigator did manage to talk to a friend of the family, but they simply confirmed that Briony cut all ties with her past. Naturally, that resonates with me only too well. I never dreamt it would happen to Freddie and me, but it did.

‘I can’t imagine how hard it was for Briony not to bring Peter’s name into it when she discovered that she was pregnant. Her parents must have been shocked to think of her bringing up her son without any support from the father. And for a well-known and respected family, it would have been something that attracted a lot of speculation at the time. I’m assuming that’s why she never reached out to us. If only she had … we could at least have been there for her … for them both.’

I have no doubt at all that Freddie and Elizabeth would have treasured their grandson and supported Briony in whatever way she needed.

‘Was Peter already in Italy when Briony got in touch with him?’ I question. If they hadn’t been seeing each for very long, I can see how the timing would have worked against them, let alone the fact that he was in a different country.

Elizabeth pauses, closing her eyes for a second or two. ‘Unfortunately, I think that might have been the case, but no one knows for sure. I like to think that Peter didn’t just disappear from her life too, without so much as a call. If that were the case, I doubt she would have been able to track him down. Freddie and I weren’t able to do that and goodness knows, we tried!’

Did Briony hide the truth from her family because Peter wasn’t willing to step up when she reached out to him?

‘It breaks my heart!’ Elizabeth stifles a sob. ‘He wasn’t a bad man, just young and a tad naive at times. He must have felt so desperate to do what he did.’

The look on her face is soulful and I’m at a loss for words. It’s like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle when someone has thrown the box away and you have no idea what the final picture looks like.

‘What if James had a close friend, someone he kept in touch with after he and his mother moved away?’ Elizabeth blurts out, but I think she’s grasping at straws.

‘Given the circumstances do you think that’s likely? I mean, he wouldn’t have wanted to upset his mother, Briony, as it was her decision to start a new life.’

‘Who knows, Sienna, but I have to try. Your grandma is going to reach out to a mutual friend of your late granddad’s.’

Now I’m confused. ‘A friend of Pop’s. Why?’

‘I told Charlotte about Freddie playing golf with Briony’s grandfather. Even after we moved to London, whenever we came back to visit family, Freddie and your grandfather would always head off for a round of golf.’

‘The club near Cirencester?’ I remember Pops taking me there on several occasions when I was in my early teens, but he soon gave up on me as I kept missing the ball and creating divots on the green.

‘Yes. It’s a tenuous link, but I owe it to my son to do whatever I can to find James. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if we can get a name of a friend, or relative of James’s who is willing to talk off the record, would you call them as my representative?’

‘Me? Wouldn’t it be better to use a professional? Someone who knows what questions to ask.’

Elizabeth points to the file. ‘Your grandma and I came to the conclusion it was the best way forward. Not only is it more discreet than pulling in a total stranger, but I can also rely upon you to handle this sensitively. It’s a case of getting some contact details so that Isabella’s solicitors can get in touch with James direct.’

‘And if he’s curious, the chance to find out more about his father’s family?’ I enquire, softly.

She pauses momentarily, her hand sweeping over her glistening eyes. ‘That would be entirely up to him. He’s been through a lot, and I have no right to assume he’d be open to having some form of contact. If he was curious, I’m sure he would have sought us out long ago. No mother would hide the truth from her son, would she?’

Goodness, that’s not the Elizabeth I know, a woman who goes the extra mile for everyone she comes into contact with, and this is her grandson we’re talking about! I just get this horribly unsettling feeling that there’s more to what happened with Peter, something that she can’t bring herself to admit. Is it possible that if it came out, it could affect James – even now – in a negative way? Maybe it’s simply my imagination going into overdrive but when it comes to the proverbial skeleton in the closet, this is a huge one. Anyway, the upshot is how can I refuse her request? ‘If that’s what you want, then of course I’ll do whatever I can.’ But in truth, it’s with a hint of trepidation.

‘Be guided by your grandma, Sienna. I found it too upsetting to read the file word for word, but she read every single page in its entirety. It’s the best we can do. I … at the time I interfered in the dispute between Freddie and Peter, and fear I ended up making it even worse. This could be a chance to at least do something right. Peter obviously wanted to make amends in the only way he could. But he chose not to involve his family directly, so discretion is the order of the day.’

The lump that has risen in my throat is hard to swallow. Elizabeth must long to know more about her grandson and it’s troubling that she’s doing everything she can to remain at arm’s length.

‘Everything hinges on Grandma coming up with a lead, then.’ A part of me hopes she doesn’t. If James can be found, all of this will suddenly become very real indeed. Whatever happened in the past, how much heartbreak can one woman endure?

Life is so horribly unfair at times because Elizabeth is one of the kindest and most generous people I know. She’s also the last person in the world who would spring to mind when it comes to hiding a secret of this nature. It’s beyond belief.