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‘Oh, she would have. She was, in a way. A brilliant great-aunt, anyway.’
‘D’you think there’s any way to trace her daughter? The baby she gave up?’ Liz sipped her tea.
‘I don’t think so. No records were kept that I’ve been able to find. And, anyway, I think it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.’ Grenville sighed. ‘That girl would have had a claim to the Douglas estate if she could prove her parentage. I imagine that’s why Mr Douglas was so keen for Evelyn to be sent away to have the baby. I don’t wonder that some money might have changed hands with Evelyn’s family.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t prove it, but Mother did tell me that after Evelyn went away, the family moved house from one of the small cottages into the one I live in now. It’s much bigger.’
‘Wow. Really?’
‘Well, I don’t know for sure. But it’s something of a coincidence, and the family didn’t have any money to be moving house before then.’
‘Have you ever told Ben any of this?’ Liz put her mug down and frowned. If Ben didn’t know, then she felt weird that she did.
‘No. It seemed better to just let it go. No reason to rock the boat, and he’s a nice fellow. I’ve never seen the point in upsetting him. But, now I’ve told you, I suppose I have to tell Ben.’ Grenville sighed.
‘I think he needs to know,’ Liz agreed. ‘Especially since we’re putting Evelyn front and centre in this new campaign. It’s going to be weird if we don’t tell him.’
‘You’re right, of course, Miss Parsons,’ Grenville said. ‘I should have said something years ago. But you know how places like this are. Well, perhaps you don’t,’ he corrected himself. ‘Anyway, Loch Cameron’s full of old family secrets. It’s just what happens when the same families have lived somewhere for generations.’
‘I know. I’m learning that,’ Liz said. ‘It’s good to unearth the truth, though, isn’t it? For Evelyn’s sake? I wanted there to be more to her story – and the rest of the women – than just two words on a gravestone.’
‘Well, there’s certainly a story there,’ Grenville said with another sigh. ‘The problem with unearthing stories, though, is that sometimes you realise they were better off forgotten. Especially if unravelling one story leads to others that nobody wants to remember.’
‘Do you think that’s what we’re doing?’ Liz had a moment of doubt. Was it right to air out Evelyn’s dirty laundry in public? Would Evelyn have been mortified to know what happened to her, all those years ago? And what good would it do to Ben to know that his ancestor had treated one of his female employees with such disrespect?
But the truth is important,said a voice in her head.What happened to Evelyn wasn’t fair, and I owe it to her to set the record straight. Even if that just means a conversation with Ben Douglas.
‘Maybe. But I trust your judgement, dear.’ Grenville took her hand. ‘And I owed you a favour, too. You’ve given me and this little shop a new lease of life since you’ve been here. And, I loved Evelyn. We should do right by her.’
‘All right. In which case, we need to talk to Ben as soon as possible.’ Liz sighed. ‘I don’t know how he’s going to take it.’
‘He might surprise you, dear.’ Grenville looked thoughtful. ‘That young man’s seen his share of problems. I trusthimto do the right thing, too.’
I wouldn’t say that I do,Liz thought, frowning. If Ben’s previous performance leaving his pregnant wife when she needed him most was anything to go by, then he couldn’t be trusted at all. But it had to be done.
THIRTY-FOUR
‘Ben? Can I have a word with you?’ Liz peeked into Ben’s office. He was striding around the office, on the phone to someone. ‘I’ll come back,’ she mouthed, but he shook his head and pointed to the seat in front of his desk.
Liz sat, watching him pace. He was listening to whoever was on the other end of the call, and it clearly wasn’t a pleasurable experience. His brow was furrowed and a palpable sense of tension sat in the room, like smoke.
‘All right. I’ve got to go. Bye.’ He ended the call abruptly. Liz waited for him to speak.
Ben returned to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a bottle of whisky.
‘Too early?’ He held out the bottle to Liz.
‘It’s lunchtime.’ She watched as he unscrewed the lid. ‘Not for me, but you go ahead.’
‘Right.’ Ben took a crystal tumbler from a tray on the side cabinet and poured himself a generous measure, then gulped it down in one go.
‘Stressful call, I take it.’ Liz watched him with some alarm. Was this a regular occurrence? If it was, it might explain Ben’s less than optimal leadership of the company over the past years.
‘You could say that,’ he muttered.
‘Um, look. This clearly isn’t a good time, so I’ll come back later. Maybe tomorrow.’ Liz got up. She’d been planning to talk to Ben about Evelyn McCallister’s story, but it was something she really had to catch Ben in a good mood for. Neat whisky at 11.45am didn’t screamgood moodto her.
‘No. Stay,’ he said, abruptly. ‘What was it you wanted? We don’t have a meeting, do we?’
‘No. It was something else. But it’s not urgent.’ Liz got up to go. ‘Really. I’ll catch you later.’
