Playing the Game. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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age got to do with anything? Age is merely a number, that’s all. And he does have eyes for you. I saw it myself at the party on Tuesday night. Come on, admit it.’
‘Oh pooh,’ Annette exclaimed in a dismissive voice, not wishing to acknowledge the truth in what Marius was saying. That would only give him ammunition to tease her, or taunt her, as he was sometimes prone to do. It was another way to control her.
Laurie sat back, watching them, not daring to enter into this conversation. She knew it was wise to remain silent. She was only too well aware that Marius had always been extremely possessive of Annette, and jealous. There were times when Laurie had seen him watching her sister like a hawk, his face a mask of anger, if there was another man showing interest. Whenever she had mentioned his dreadful possessiveness, which seemed pathological to her, Annette had dismissed it vehemently. Nonetheless, there was a certain problem there, whatever Annette believed.
Marius stood up, went to fetch the bottle of champagne, and refilled their glasses, then took it back to the silver bucket. He stood there for a moment, his hand on the bottle, looking from his wife to his sister-in-law. Finally he said, ‘Listen, the two of you, I’ve just had an inspired idea. I think you should both go down to Kent tomorrow to that house of Christopher’s, his uncle’s huge pile. You’d enjoy the outing, Laurie, wouldn’t you? And Laurie would be company for you, Annette. I’ll tell you what, I’ll talk to Paddy on my way to the airport. I know he’ll be happy to drive you to Kent, wait and bring you back. Now what do you say about that, the two of you?’
Laurie was absolutely silent, frightened to speak.
Annette looked across at her sister and smiled. She said, in the most loving of voices, ‘Marius has just had a brilliant idea, Laurie. I’d love it if you would come with me. I wish I’d thought of it myself.’
‘Oh, honestly, I don’t know,’ Laurie answered quickly, staring at Annette. ‘Look, I don’t want to be in the way, you’re going there to work.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ll just be a nuisance, under your feet.’
‘No, you won’t, you’d be lovely company for me on the drive there and back, just as Marius said. Please say you’ll come.’ Annette sat back on the sofa, smiling at her sister, genuinely wanting her to make the trip. She had felt badly about cancelling their usual Saturday rendezvous, and it had never occurred
to her to ask Laurie to come to Kent with her. Now that Marius had suggested it, she thought it was a great idea. She laughed inwardly. Two can play this game. You think you pull the wool over my eyes, but you don’t. I’ve been married to you for nearly twenty-one years and I know you well. Better than anybody.
Laurie said softly, ‘If you really want me along, I’ll come. Of course I will.’ A smile touched her generous, pretty mouth. ‘For me it would be a great treat …’
‘Then it’s settled!’ Marius declared. He glanced over his shoulder when their housekeeper appeared in the doorway. ‘There you are, Elaine. I suppose lunch is ready?’
‘It is. A cheese soufflé. You’ve got to come. Before it drops.’
‘I’ve got my orders,’ he murmured.
And seemingly so have I. Annette took a deep breath, and then experienced a little frisson of annoyance. He could be so manipulative.
The house was called Knowle Court and it was located not far from Aldington in Kent. A long gravel drive led up to the house, skirted on either side by lines of tall, stately poplars, and it was the trees that gave the property a sense of dignity. They reminded Annette of France, where there was many a driveway just like this, trees standing sentinel in front of some grand château.
As if picking up on this thought, Laurie turned to her and said, ‘Have we crossed the Channel without me noticing and entered France? That’s what the trees are telling me.’
‘I know what you mean, but no, we’re still here in hop-growing country, and not very far from Noël Coward’s old home. Though I’m afraid Knowle Court doesn’t have the charm of Goldenhurst. Unfortunately.’
‘What a pity, I like that lovely Elizabethan house. So, what exactly did Christopher inherit from his uncle?’
‘A Jacobean pile of stone, turreted and moated, no less. More like a small castle, actually. Not my kind of place. I came here several times last summer and even then, on a sunny day, it seemed a bit … daunting. Oh, look, Laurie, there it is!’
Leaning forward, she said to Paddy, ‘There’s a circular drive up ahead, and Mr Delaware told me you should park near the drawbridge that leads to a big door.’
‘Right-o, Mrs Remmington.’
‘He also explained that you’re welcome to relax in the back parlour, read or watch television. And that the housekeeper will give you lunch later. It’s up to you.’
‘Thanks, Mrs R. I think I’ll drive around the area a bit, take a dekko, and come back later for a spot of lunch. Mr R. said you’d be working here all day.’
‘That’s right. I hope we can leave about four or five, not later than that. So, you can please yourself, do what you want. Oh, and Mr Delaware said you’re to make yourself at home if you do decide to relax in the back parlour.’
Paddy nodded. ‘That’s very kind of him.’ As he brought the car to a standstill, pulled on the brake, he added, ‘And here we are, ladies.’ Opening the door he jumped out, then poked his head back inside. ‘I’ll get the wheelchair, Miss Laurie, and then I’ll lift you out. Won’t be a tick.’
At this moment the huge iron-studded oak door opened, and Christopher appeared on the drawbridge with a young man Annette recognized as his friend James Pollard. Before she could open the car door, Christopher was hurrying forward, doing it for her and saying hello to Paddy at the same time.
Helping her to get out, he grinned and exclaimed, ‘You’ve made it in good time! Welcome to the old homestead.’ He then muttered, ‘If one can call it that. It’s more like a stronghold.’
Once Annette was out of the car, he glanced inside again. ‘Hi, Laurie, I asked my friend Jim to come down for the weekend. He’ll keep you company while we work. I’m sure you remember him from the auction.’
‘Yes, I do, and that was thoughtful of you, Christopher.’ She gave him a wide smile, and then turned to Paddy who had appeared at her side of the car.
The driver had worked for Marius for eighteen years and knew her well, and it was with great care that he lifted her out of the car and carried her to the wheelchair. And as usual he thought the same thing he always thought as he held her gently, like a baby, in his arms: What a gorgeous girl, what a shame. In his own way he loved her, but then everybody loved her. You couldn’t help yourself. She had the sweetest nature and he had never heard her complain once. A shame. A bloody shame.
‘Thank you, Paddy,’ Laurie said, looking up at the big, warmhearted man, with mischievous obsidian-black eyes and shock of dark wavy hair. If anyone was a genuine black Irishman it was Paddy. It was obvious he was descended from the Spanish sailors who’d been shipwrecked on the Irish coast when the Spanish Armada had foundered.
‘My pleasure,’ he murmured. He put her into the chair and she went across the drawbridge.
‘I’ve never seen anything quite like this place ever before, have you, Miss Laurie?’ he asked, walking next to her.
This was said in such a droll way, she couldn’t help laughing. ‘No, I haven’t.’ As she spoke she glanced up at the imposing house and took a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran through her. Annette had used the wrong word. It wasn’t merely daunting, it was forbidding. And she shivered again as a strange sense of foreboding took hold of her and