True Colours Part 22

'You're not going to like this.'

Sebastian eased himself out of his seat, stood up, took a step away from the car and crossed his arms, his feet apart.

'I'm not liking much of what I'm hearing today. Try me.'

Peter took a deep breath like he was wrestling with a huge secret, 'Well...'

'Yes?' Sebastian's retort was curt.

'It was Caroline. I came down after her. I knew she was upset, that she was coming down here to find you...I was worried about her.'

Sebastian shook his head, kicked a stone with the toe of his boot, a boot smeared black with soot. For a split second he felt like laughing. Whatever he'd expected it hadn't been that. 'How did you know she was upset?' He looked Peter straight in the face.

'She called me. She'd been drinking, sounded a bit slurred, said she was coming down. I told her she shouldn't be driving...'

Sebastian shook his head again, 'I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me but I've missed a bit here.' His voice dripped with sarcasm. 'Why did she ring you?'

Peter looked uncomfortable, tapped the roof of the car again with his hand, then crossed his arms, s.h.i.+fting uncomfortably. 'That's the bit you won't like.' He paused, the silence radiating ions like a nuclear power plant. But Sebastian wasn't about to help him out. Peter continued. 'Eh, we met a while ago. The first day I was back in Dublin.' Peter held up his hands like he thought Sebastian might hit him, 'Look I'm sorry, I didn't realise she was your Caroline. Things moved pretty fast.'

Things moved pretty fast? Something inside Sebastian hit the floor like a lift with a broken cable. Smashed into a million pieces of pure black anger, each shard sharper than the next. He could feel the muscle under his eye go into overdrive. He'd known from the first time Jocelyn had introduced them that Peter f.e.c.king b.l.o.o.d.y Pan couldn't be trusted. And now he was paying for it.

'You mean you've been s.h.a.gging my fiancee?' Sebastian's voice was ice cold. 'You work for me, and you've been s.h.a.gging my fiancee? How can you NOT have known that she's my fiancee?' Sebastian knew he was close to yelling, caused a glimpse of a movement in the back of the Discovery but refused to turn to look. There was no way he was going to give her that satisfaction.

Peter shrugged, his voice reticent. 'I've been away for the last two years. I knew you'd got engaged, seen pictures, but honestly I never put two and two together.'

'Until you were making five?'

'Yeah, something like that.'

'And she didn't think to mention it ?'

'She doesn't know I work for Wingfield Holdings.'

'Gets better and better.' Sebastian looked at Peter in utter disbelief. But it wasn't disbelief at what had been going on behind his back, it was disbelief that Peter honestly thought he'd swallow his version of events. Peter was an ex-Green Beret for Christ's sake, had worked undercover, had been trained to lie just like he'd been trained to blow stuff up and kill people. The thoughts were hardly through Sebastian's head when the truth began to form into a shadow on the edge of his mind. But he wasn't ready to deal with that now. Right now he was still coping with finding out about Caroline, with listening to the c.r.a.p that was coming out of Jackson Blake's mouth, with seeing Blake in his true colours. No wonder his nickname was Peter Pan, he was living in a b.l.o.o.d.y fairytale.

'So that's what you were doing at Kilfenora? All that c.r.a.p about papers was...'

'c.r.a.p. Yes. I didn't want the cops to know anything. This is your patch, it's a small village, gossip spreads.' But Peter's face was blank, emotionless.

'Very considerate of you.'

And suddenly it was all slotting into place, the shadow growing into something big and black and terrifying. Sebastian bit his lip. Right now all he wanted to do was to deck Peter, was struggling with the urge to smack him in the face. But Sebastian knew he'd be giving Peter an opportunity that he might take a step further his gut twisted as he finally acknowledged the shadow if Peter had started the fire, maybe the objective wasn't just to burn down the house... Sebastian stuck his hands in his pockets, and threw a quick glance back at the Discovery. Caroline could hear every word of this he was sure. b.i.t.c.h.

'She didn't start the fire you know.'

Struggling to keep his temper, Sebastian snapped his head up. 'And how do you know that exactly?' It took all Sebastian's effort to keep his voice level.

'I came down to the house looking for her. There was no fire then. The guards won't be able to find any corroborating evidence.'

'You seem very sure.'

Peter nodded, looked Sebastian straight in the eye. 'I am.'

Sebastian shrugged, 'Well that's good news for her then, isn't it. It must have been someone else.' His pause was significant, accusing.

Peter nodded. 'Reckon so.'

Sebastian looked at Jackson Blake Peter b.l.o.o.d.y Pan long and hard. Christ he wanted to kill him but he wasn't stupid. If he took on Jackson Blake, Sebastian knew exactly who would end up in Neverland. Sebastian cleared his throat, 'All things considered, I think this would be a good moment for you to tender your resignation, don't you?'

'Well I wanted to talk to you about that actually. I've been offered a post in New York.'

Sebastian looked at him, suddenly seeing the whole picture, all the pieces of the jigsaw falling into place. Someone had been trying to destabilise his company and at that moment he knew exactly who it was.

'Just take her with you.' Sebastian nodded towards the Discovery. 'And don't come back.'

FORTY SEVEN.

'Honestly Dad it's for the best. You can hardly live on your own, can you?'

Tom Ryan adjusted the seatbelt over his shoulder. It was sore. Very sore. He had the front seat cranked back as far as it would go but his leg still wasn't very comfortable Before they had let him out of the hospital the doctor had given him extra painkillers, but the thick layer of relief provided by the drugs was beginning to wear thin, pain steepling through every time Alex went over a b.u.mp. And pain always made Tom ratty.

'Look la.s.s, I know you mean well, but it's my home. I just don't understand why you can't move in with me.' Tom paused, 'Will you watch the potholes? I've got a load of b.l.o.o.d.y shot in my knee.'

'I'm doing my best.' Alex took a deep breath. She'd slept most of the day before, but still felt exhausted, tetchy. 'I'm sorry, the roads are awful. And I'm sorry about the cottage, but I can't Dad. There's no mobile coverage, (that was true at least) let alone broadband. I need to be able to communicate with the outside world. And I want to look after you. I can do that in Dalkey.' As if it was agreeing, her phone pipped with an incoming text message.

'You're driving, you can look at that later.'

Alex gripped the steering wheel, biting back the temptation to point out that she was an adult, knew the rules of the road. 'Thank you.'

Tom humphed like a bad-tempered camel, glared out the window at the factory units crowded along the N7 like women at a market stall bickering for bargains; short and stocky, all in the same industrial grey shawls. He tried again, 'But I want to stay in my home.'

Alex sighed, trying to keep her patience, the irony of the whole situation making her want to scream.

'I know Dad, but it's only your home while you can work. Now you can't work can you? And to be perfectly honest if you stay on there, you'll have absolutely no comeback. You just cannot let the Wingfields get away with this.'

'Get away with what, la.s.s? Good G.o.d it was an accident. Sebastian didn't set out to shoot me did he? It just happened. The definition of an accident is that it wasn't planned, surely.'

Tom shook his head. Alex could be so pig-headed sometimes, just like her mother: when Alexandra Ryan got an idea, that was it just like when she left to study in Barcelona. Good G.o.d he'd wanted to plead with her to stay, would have packed up and left the estate if that was what she wanted, but no, she'd got an idea in her head and that was that.

Tom's heart had sunk when he'd heard about the scholars.h.i.+p, wondering how on earth he was going to afford to pay for her food and lodgings. But then Alex had said that it was all covered by a trust or something; some rich old architect had dropped dead and left his millions to the design school Tom supposed. Then Lord Kilfenora had come along out of the blue and offered to cover her expenses.

'Least I can do man, least I can do. She deserves her chance. But it's between ourselves you understand. Strictly between ourselves, don't want the rest of the staff revolting now do we?'

Tom had been so grateful that he'd never even asked how Guy Wingfield knew Alex was going to Barcelona. In the end she'd hardly needed the extra few s.h.i.+llings Tom added to her allowance each month.

Tom looked out of the pa.s.senger window of Alex's car. The grey of the city was merging with green fields, spreading out from the road like patches on a quilt. Tom tried to focus, wrestling with his conscience.

With Alex going on about getting a settlement, shouldn't he come clean and just tell her about how generous Lord Kilfenora had been? Tom had been blown away by Guy Wingfield's generosity he knew it wasn't a lot of money to him, being a businessman and all, but it meant a lot to Tom, and it was the gesture that was really the thing. In Tom's book that sort of generosity was rewarded with an unshakeable loyalty, and right now, leaving the estate with all this talk of compensation and court made him feel like he was throwing everything back in Guy Wingfield's face.

'I know Sebastian didn't shoot you on purpose Dad, but he still shot you. He didn't observe your own safety rules and look what happened.'

'But la.s.s, with the fire and everything, the last thing they need is me being a b.l.o.o.d.y nuisance.'

'All the more reason for him to come to a settlement quickly.'

'But la.s.s, honestly...the money the Palm House is going to cost millions to restore.'

'It's insured isn't it?'

'Well I'm sure it is, but...'

'And are you?'

'Am I what?'

'Insured? Against accident, loss of earnings?'

'Of course not, now you're being daft.'

'I am not.'

Alex glowered at the road ahead of them, glistening in the sunlight. She could feel her face burning despite the air conditioning being adjusted to cold. The last thing she wanted to do right now was argue with her dad, but he was such a stubborn old goat. And whatever he thought, getting this sorted out wasn't going to be a picnic for her either. Sebastian had saved her life. And this was how she was going to thank him.

Alex focused on the road, her mind flying.

Honestly, she didn't have a choice; she'd thrown down the gauntlet at dinner before...before the fire. And this was about her dad. Whatever she felt, she couldn't forget about him. She could hardly go back to Sebastian now and say, sorry I over-reacted, I really didn't mean it. What good would that do her dad?

Alex could feel her jaw locking, the tension making her teeth hurt. Why should she have to back down? Why? Last night she'd had far too much to drink and so had Sebastian. And he'd taken advantage of her...And he might have said he was sorry, but sorry really wasn't enough. He was the one who'd fired the shot, and for that matter had painted her naked and stuck it up in his bedroom. Alex could feel her toes curling...and he'd kissed her that first time they'd met, made her feel like total trash, deliberately humiliated her. And...and he'd gone and got engaged to Caroline of all people...But Alex mentally shook her head, striking that off her list of grievances as quickly as it appeared: she could hardly blame him for finding someone else, even if the woman was a total waste of s.p.a.ce.

As Alex turned off the N7, heading for Kilfenora village, she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. If she'd known what was going to happen the last time she'd driven this way, she would have turned around when she got to the T-junction at the end of the village. Turned right around.

But this time Alex had no choice, couldn't turn her back on the Wingfields, on the estate, at least not until she'd collected her father's belongings and got him settled in Dalkey. Alex kept her eyes on the road, slowing in the village to avoid a stray dog, reaching the junction without mishap.

'These are Famine walls you know.' Her father's voice made Alex jump.

'What?'

'During the Famine the Wingfields employed their tenants to build walls all around the estate. Kept them fed and watered, kept them busy while the rest of the country was dying or leaving.' Tom paused significantly. Alex knew what he was thinking: how could they sue a family who'd always looked after their tenants, who'd gone out of their way to ensure that those living on the estate were employed during the worst years of hards.h.i.+p?

Ignoring him, scowling, Alex turned left, heading for the back gates of the estate. She'd always thought they were beautiful, twenty feet high, the metalwork intricate, black with gold flourishes lovingly repainted every year by her dad. Turning off the road, Alex slowed right down, anxious not to scratch the car. The gates were narrow, designed for a coach and horses and Hertz weren't at all impressed that she'd already managed to leave one of their cars (with a puncture) parked outside the scene of a major fire, had refused point blank to give her another one until Jocelyn had come to her rescue. Apparently Wingfield Holdings was a major client, and a replacement car had appeared in Alex's drive by the time Jocelyn had arrived with a fuchsia pink insulated holdall from The Butler's Pantry, cauliflower and cheese soup, chicken boscaiola, a huge slice of banoffi pie and Alex's phone...

Inside the gates, a tunnel of trees reached over the lane, rhododendron and oak tangled on each side, the cottage only coming into sight at the last turn. Alex pulled up in front of it, trying to sound cheery, 'Here we are. I've organised the removal men for tomorrow afternoon. They pack and box everything so we only need to take your personal stuff now.'

'Any chance we could have a cup of tea first?' Gruff, unimpressed, Tom opened the car door and swung his good leg out.

'Hang on, I'll get the wheelchair, you mustn't put weight on it yet, weren't you listening to the doctor?' Alex jumped out and dashed around the car to her father's door before he tried to stand up on his injured leg.

'All right, all right la.s.s. Don't fuss. I'm hardly going to do a runner now am I? A quick sprint around to check the fences...'

Tom fired her a withering look, met by Alex's own fiery glare did he think she was finding this easy?

Before Alex could retort, a car appeared around the bend in the drive, purred to a halt behind them, the driver's door opening, a voice reaching them that made Alex stop, smiling, shake her head in disbelief.

'Alex, how are you today my dear?'

'Joss. How lovely to see you.' Alex almost laughed. Jocelyn Blake was developing a habit of popping up where she was least expected. Today, she was wearing another of her tent-like creations, this time navy velvet, the b.u.t.tons on her swing back jacket, bright red. She looked like she'd just stepped out of the office, her hair skewered in a tidy bun. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

'I had to run some errands, just wanted to make sure you were okay.'

'Thanks, you really are kind,' Alex meant it, 'I'm fine now. Sore throat and my hair will stink for months, but I slept almost all day of yesterday. Thanks so much for the lift home; and for bringing my phone, the food...and for organising the car.' How did you thank someone like Joss? Then Alex remembered her manners. 'This is my dad, Tom Ryan. Dad this is Jocelyn Blake, Sebastian's PA...'

'Afternoon Joss my dear, am I pleased to see you. This dratted daughter of mine has been bullying me all day.'

Alex took a step back, her mouth hanging open. She knew they'd talked on the phone but had had no idea that her dad and Jocelyn knew each other.

'Tom, you do look better. A bit of fresh air works wonders doesn't it?'

Hiding her confusion, Alex went to the back of the car to open the boot, struggling with the wheelchair the hospital had provided. She needn't have bothered. By the time she had got it out and unfolded it, Tom was half way to the front door of the cottage, leaning heavily on Jocelyn's capable arm.

'Gosh, it's bit musty in here. How about we open a few windows, let in some of this lovely suns.h.i.+ne? Then we'll get the kettle on.' Jocelyn helped Tom through the tiny terracotta porch, 'I've a pint of milk here and some chocolate digestives.'

Following them in, Alex pushed the wheelchair into the living room, left it leaning against the wall. She'd forgotten how cramped the cottage was. The wheelchair had looked small in the hospital, but now, here, against the polished pine and rough plaster it was ugly and ungainly, and huge. Following the sound of Jocelyn's voice down the narrow pa.s.sage and into the kitchen at the back of the cottage, Alex found Tom had already collapsed into one of the battered pine kitchen chairs, his face serious.

'So what's the story Joss? Any news from the house?'

Hovering in the doorway, Alex had been about to go up the narrow stairs to open the windows, but waited, desperate to know how Sebastian was, to find out what had happened. She hadn't spoken to him yet, had woken up mid-afternoon yesterday to find two missed calls from Kilfenora on her phone, but as she sat up in bed, the phone in her hand, her thumb hovering over the speed dial, her courage had deserted her, completely and utterly...what on earth was she going to say to him after...after everything?

Jocelyn filled the kettle and flicked it on, then, pulling a chair out from the scarred pine table, rested her elbows on it, playing with her rings while she found the words.

'There's good news and bad. The a.s.sessors have been out and the builders are already starting work to make sure the main house is safe. The Palm House has been destroyed, but the Fire Brigade did a marvellous job, stopped it spreading. There's smoke and water damage, but that's nothing that can't be fixed.'

'Good, that's good. Any idea how it started?'

Jocelyn grimaced, 'They think it might have been a stray cigarette. The painters had left some paint pots out...'

Tom snorted, an explosive sound in the tiny kitchen. 'Christ if I'd been there...can't stand that sort of sloppiness, there's no excuse. For G.o.d's sake paint's highly combustible...'

Jocelyn nodded, reached out to pat his arm, calming him down, 'Lots of things would have been different if you'd been there. Sebastian's dreading seeing you he had fertiliser delivered and it was in the Palm House too...'

'But I'm always telling him...'

'Exactly. He knows...'

Tom rolled his eyes. 'How is he?' his voice was gruff, anger tempered by emotion, it could have been so much worse.

Behind them, the kettle boiled. Trying to look busy, like she wasn't listening, Alex went to pick it up, reaching for the teabags, the teapot; the tips of her ears glowing.

'He'll be fine I hope. He's shocked, more than he'll admit. And with poor Lord Kilfenora having another stroke there's a lot to do.'