One Summer At The Castle: Stay Through the Night / A Stormy Spanish Summer / Behind Palace Doors. Anne Mather
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pop group. What with all the drug-taking that goes on and—’
‘But you were worried, Mum,’ Rosa reminded her. ‘My God, when you rang me last Saturday night you were practically hysterical.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t, Rosa. You’re exaggerating. Good heavens, we all know what Sophie’s like. She’s so impetuous!’
‘So irresponsible,’ muttered Rosa darkly. ‘Is she there? Put her on. I want to speak to her.’
‘You can’t.’ Before Rosa could argue, Mrs Chantry explained her reasons. ‘Mark called a little while ago, and she’s gone round to his house to try and patch things up with him.’
‘Well, he’s a fool if he believes anything she tells him,’ said Rosa irritably. For heaven’s sake, was she the only one in the family with a lick of sense? ‘I can’t believe you’re letting her get away with this. If it had been me at her age, I’d have been grounded for a month!’
‘Well, it’s no good me going on at her, Rosa,’ declared Mrs Chantry unhappily. ‘She’s going away to university soon enough, and if I play the heavy she’s not going to want to come home at all.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Rosa groaned. ‘You can’t let her blackmail you. She ran off with a musician, a man she’d only just met, who she knew nothing about. He could have been a—a white slaver for all she knew.’
‘Oh, Rosa.’ Mrs Chantry gave a little laugh now. ‘White slaver, indeed!’ She waited a beat, and when Rosa didn’t say anything she added firmly, ‘Anyway, she’s learned her lesson. She says he dumped her when she refused to go to bed with him.’
And believe that if you will, thought Rosa cynically. But all she said was, ‘Did she tell you why she went with him in the first place?’
‘Oh, apparently he said he could introduce her to some people he knew in television,’ said her mother, relaxing a little now that she’d delivered her news. ‘She shouldn’t have believed him. I told her that.’
‘And where did Liam Jameson come in?’ asked Rosa shortly. ‘Or hasn’t she told you that?’
Her mother hesitated. ‘Oh—well, that might have been my fault.’
‘Your fault?’ Rosa was confused. ‘How could it be your fault?’
‘Well…’ Mrs Chantry was obviously searching for words. ‘I evidently jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No.’ Her mother sighed. ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ There was another pause, and then she said reluctantly, ‘Well, you know how much Sophie likes Liam Jameson’s books?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how she’d said how great it would be to star in one of his films?’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘No. No, I’m not.’ Mrs Chantry spoke indignantly. ‘She has said that. Heaps of times. And—and when Mark rang and said she’d run off to Scotland with some man she’d met at the pop festival—’
Rosa groaned. ‘I don’t believe this!’
‘It—it’s true.’ Her mother sniffed pathetically. ‘Mark did say that she’d told him that this man was going to introduce her to all the right people, and—’
‘And you put two and two together and made fifteen,’ said Rosa shortly. ‘Mum, why didn’t you tell me this before I left?’
‘Would you have gone if I had?’
No!
Rosa blew out a breath. ‘Possibly not.’
‘Probably not,’ declared her mother tersely. ‘I know you, Rosa. If you’d thought I was just clutching at straws, you’d never have approached Liam Jameson.’
And wasn’t that the truth? thought Rosa, an unpleasant little pain making itself felt in her temple. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she said wearily, ‘I wish you’d told me just the same.’
‘And have you tell me what a stupid woman I am?’ demanded Mrs Chantry. ‘I thought you’d be glad to hear your sister was home, safe and sound. Instead all you can do is grumble about both of us!’
Rosa knew it was ridiculous. She was thirty-two, for goodness’ sake. But her eyes filled with tears at her mother’s harsh words. They were so unjustified, so unfair. She hadn’t complained, not really. But Sophie was totally selfish and her mother refused to see it.
‘I’d better go,’ she said, hoping the catch in her voice wasn’t audible to anyone else. ‘Mrs Ferguson’s probably waiting to use the phone.’
Which was unlikely, she conceded. Apart from this call, the phone hadn’t rung at all while she’d been in the guesthouse. Evidently people in Kilfoil tended to do their gossiping face to face.
‘All right.’ If Mrs Chantry suspected that the reason Rosa was ending the call was because she’d been a little unkind, she wasn’t prepared to admit it. ‘I’ll expect you when I see you, then. Take care.’
‘Bye.’
Rosa replaced the handset and scrubbed an impatient hand across her eyes. She was not going to cry, she told herself, even if the day had just gone from bad to worse. She had to focus on the future, on getting home to her little flat in Ripon, which suddenly seemed very far away. School would be starting again in a couple of weeks, and she had lessons to prepare before then.
Liam always stayed at the Moriarty Hotel when he was in London. It was a small, select establishment, known to only a few people, and they, like himself, reserved a suite of rooms year round, so that it was always available whenever it was needed.
It was one of the perks of being successful, he thought, as he drove south on the motorway. He could stay there completely anonymously, which suited him very well.
Not that he intended staying more than a couple of nights there on this visit. He was due to spend a few days at the Erskine Clinic in Knightsbridge, undergoing some further therapy on his leg.
Ever since August, when he’d been caught out in the storm because of the dogs, he’d been having an increasing amount of discomfort in his thigh. The local doctor thought he might have torn a ligament, and rather than wait for it to get better, which might not happen, Liam had been forced to seek relief.
Of course Sam thought he was crazy, driving to London. His opinion was that Liam should have used the helicopter. But helicopters tended to advertise one’s arrival, and that was the last thing Liam wanted to do.
He’d left Scotland behind a little while ago, and now he was some miles beyond Penrith, heading towards the service area at Tebay. He might stop there, he reflected. He could do with a cup of coffee and the opportunity to stretch his legs. And to look at the map, he conceded, not prepared to consider why he should need to do so. His route was familiar enough, goodness knew. South on the M6 as far as the M5. then east on the M40 until he reached the outskirts of London. What could be simpler?
He parked near the service buildings at Tebay and went inside to use the facilities and buy a coffee. Then he carried it back to the car and pulled his map out of the glove locker.
Less than a mile farther on there was a turn-off for Scotch Corner. Well, for Kirby Stephen initially, but it eventually intersected with the A66 east, which in turn intersected with the A1 at Scotch Corner. And about twenty miles south of Scotch Corner was the small Yorkshire market town of Ripon.
Ripon!
Liam swallowed a mouthful of his coffee, wincing at its bitter taste. Now, why would he want to know how to get to Ripon? Okay, he’d found out from Mrs Ferguson that that was where Rosa Chantry lived, but so what? It was nearly two months since he’d seen her, and after the way he’d behaved he doubted very much whether she’d want to see him