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CHAPTER 26
‘Clapped-out’ was the only way to describe her mum’s Mini when it was parked next to a gleaming black Mercedes at High Tor House. A tall woman with red hair opened the door and Rosie wasn’t sure whether the look of horror on her face was due to seeing her or the heap of rust in the driveway.
‘My name’s Rosie Merchant. Would it be possible to see Mr Epping please?’
‘I don’t know.’ The woman shifted as though she felt uncomfortable. ‘I’m Caroline, the housekeeper.’
‘Hello, Caroline. Is Mr Epping in?’
‘He’s busy in the garden and I’m afraid that Mrs Epping is out.’
Phew, Rosie was glad about that. She plastered on her best smile. ‘I’m sure Mr Epping wouldn’t mind being interrupted.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘Mrs Epping was most insistent that he have no visitors. Is it important?’
You could say that, Caroline. I want to ask Mr Epping if he might happen to be my father.
Rosie smiled again. ‘I’d like to see him if possible. I’ve driven quite a long way and I’m willing to wait.’
Caroline stared at Rosie who stared right back. It was a good job Cecilia wasn’t at home, thought Rosie, or she’d have set the dogs on her at this point. But Caroline blinked first.
‘I suppose I can ask if he’d like to see you. Follow me, please.’
Rosie followed Caroline through the hall and into the sitting room where she and Charles had first met. Rosie took more notice this time of the portraits hanging on the walls. They were ancestors, she supposed. The great and good in the Epping lineage. Did any of the men in their old-fashioned clothing or the women in their best jewels look like her?
‘Excuse me, Mr Epping,’ shouted Caroline through the open French windows. ‘You have an unexpected visitor.’
Somewhere in the house, an animal was howling. Caroline turned to Rosie. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of feeding the dogs and they won’t wait.’
As she swept from the room, Rosie gazed out at the garden that stretched towards a tor in the distance. Her mum, a keen gardener, would have loved it. Much of the garden was given over to grass but there were tall plants in huge terracotta pots at the edges of the lawn, and near the house was a wide stone patio. On it, clustered in groups, were dozens of pots in colours from scarlet and bronze to the cerulean blue of the Spanish sky. Bright spring flowers overflowed from each of them and Rosie itched to get her fingers into the soil.
She walked closer to the window, past a small writing desk with an inlaid blotter. A half-finished letter, written in thick black strokes, was lying on it, next to a silver Montblanc fountain pen. Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through the pictures until she got to the card left on her mother’s grave and compared the two. The writing did look very similar. She picked up the letter to study it more closely but hastily put it back when Charles came into sight, striding across the lawn. With the sun behind him and the lines on his face in shadow, he looked younger. Thirty years ago, with dark hair, he must have been rather dashing.
Rosie swallowed hard. Maybe she’d been too hasty coming here with secrets and accusations whirling around her brain. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth at all. But it was too late to flee.
Charles slipped off his muddy shoes on the patio and stepped into the room.
‘Miss Merchant, what are you doing here? I’m afraid if you’ve come about Driftwood House, it’s too late. My wife has decided –wehave decided – to push ahead with the hotel plan. I’m sorry, after you put some effort into improving the house, and I’m sorry because I know the house means a good deal to you. But it’s for the best and you’ll soon forget it when you’re abroad. Our solicitor was about to contact you.’
So Driftwood House was definitely doomed. Rosie had suspected as much, but hearing Charles say it out loud left her feeling cast adrift.
‘Is there anything I can say or do to change your minds?’
‘Nothing.’ He started fiddling with the buttons on the cuff of his pale blue shirt. ‘There are… business reasons why the hotel plan has to go ahead. I’m sorry, and it’s a shame you had to travel here to find out this information.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I didn’t really come here about Driftwood House. There was something else I was hoping to discuss. When I was sorting through Mum’s things, I came across a letter which was signed by someone with the initial J.’
‘Did you now?’ Unease flickered across Charles’s face.
‘I didn’t know who this mysterious J was but then…’ Rosie took a deep breath. ‘Then, I heard your wife call you Jay while you were at Driftwood House.’
‘My middle name is James.’
‘Yes, she told me.’
‘I see.’ He closed the French windows with a bang before turning back to Rosie. ‘What did this letter say?’
‘It said that Jay loved her and couldn’t wait to be with her.’
