The Reunion

Claire nodded, thanking Angus. As he left, she was distracted by Maggie, who’d come down for breakfast. Her eyes were ringed with last night’s make-up and she was wearing an old T-shirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms. Her hair stuck out in sleep-mussed clumps.

‘Morning all,’ she said, stretching and wincing. ‘One too many, I think.’ Claire filled her in on the news about Patrick. She’d give it a couple of hours, but would have to call the police if too much time passed.

‘Coffee?’ she said, handing Maggie a mug.

‘Thanks. I reckon that wherever Rain is right now, she’ll need a bucketload of this stuff to get her going.’ She laughed, wrapping her hands around the mug.

‘Isn’t she up in her room, then?’ Claire noticed the slightly concerned look in Maggie’s eyes.

‘No, she’s not.’ Maggie sat down at the table, her shoulders rounded as if there was a weight pressing down. ‘She didn’t come back last night.’



* * *



Jason sat on the bed while Greta ate her toast, crumbs falling onto her bump. ‘Quick, feel them kicking.’ She took his hand and pressed it against her side. ‘It’s an elbow or heel.’ She pushed the remainder of the slice into her mouth. ‘Thanks for this. You’re a star.’

‘Sorry?’ Jason said, suddenly aware that his hand had been placed on Greta’s belly. He could feel one of his babies doing cartwheels.

‘What’s up, Jase? You’ve been quiet ever since you came back upstairs.’

‘Nothing. I’m fine.’ He forced a smile. ‘I wonder what Claire has planned today.’ He sipped his tea. ‘There’s talk of a beach picnic. Maybe a meal out later.’ Jason swept back the curtains, aware he was gabbling. The sun streamed in through the window. ‘A beautiful day for a walk, look.’

‘Then why didn’t you ask her about plans?’ Greta said. ‘When you took her tea in just now?’

Jason paused, cup halfway to his lips. ‘She must have got up early. She wasn’t in bed.’

‘Maybe she was in the shower.’ Greta eyed the two cups of tea going cold on the tray. ‘Shall I take them in now?’ She made to get out of bed.

‘No, no, Callum was still asleep. I think he had… you know, a bit too much to drink last night, judging by the way he was snoring. Best leave it.’

Greta nodded slowly. ‘Is your dad still on your mind?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you seem distant?’ She knew him too well.

Jason nodded. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. That’s it.’

‘I know I wasn’t a part of your life when you fell out with him, but don’t you think now would be a good time to make up, with all this hospital business?’

‘You’re probably right.’ Jason sighed into his mug, grateful for the change of tack. ‘But you know what he’s like.’

‘What he’s like, or what you’re like?’ Greta put a hand on his shoulder, pressing her fingers into the knotty muscle. ‘Do you know how poor we’d be if I held grudges and never made that phone call or sent that email to clients who’d pissed me off? What else is life about, Jase, if not maintaining relationships?’

Jason looked at his wife. She was beautiful, powerful and wise, but then his phone was buzzing in his back pocket so he answered it, relieved to see it was Claire. He listened intently as she told him how their father had walked out of hospital against medical advice.

‘Oh, and have you seen Marcus this morning?’ she asked, sounding concerned.

‘Hang on,’ he said, going across the landing to check his room. ‘He and his mates are dead to the world,’ he told her, almost hearing the relief down the line.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rain, have you?’ Claire continued. ‘Maggie said she didn’t come back last night.’

Jason stared out of the window, watching a lone cloud scudding across a clear sky. ‘No, sorry,’ he said. ‘I haven’t.’ Before he hung up, he told her that they’d be up to the farmhouse soon, though he couldn’t be sure the words came out entirely right.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





‘See?’ The look of worry on Maggie’s face fell away. ‘I told you she’d be fine.’ She hugged her daughter as she teetered into Trevellin’s kitchen on ridiculously high heels. Maggie slipped her arm around her waist as if to show she approved of her behaviour. Rain was still wearing last night’s skimpy dress.

‘Was it a good party?’ Claire asked. She was frying bacon and glanced up.

Rain shrugged but didn’t say anything. She came up close to the range, her lips red, almost sore-looking – perhaps the remnants of last night’s lipstick.

‘Did you stay out all night?’ She couldn’t help asking, not ready to believe that Maggie would allow it.

‘That looks… greasy,’ Rain replied, peering into the pan. She went and poured a mug of coffee from the machine and sat silently at the table next to her mother, cupping her chin in her hands.

Claire turned, spatula in hand, trying not to appear wound up, even though she was. ‘But where were you all night, Rain?’ She knew Marcus would always come home, or phone if he was staying over with a friend. Besides, Callum had given them taxi money. And the thought of Amy staying out all night when she reached Rain’s age was abhorrent.

‘It’s fine, Claire…’ Maggie said, giving her a warning look.

She simply couldn’t understand why Maggie wasn’t concerned where her daughter had been or what she’d been up to. She’d already mocked her for checking with Jason that Marcus had made it back home OK. ‘If he’s not at home, then he’s somewhere,’ Maggie had said. What she failed to recognise was that in Claire’s world that ‘somewhere’ was exactly the same place Lenni had gone.

‘Just at a club,’ Rain said. ‘Had a few drinks, a dance.’ She felt the tears welling and dug her fingernails into her palms to stop them.

‘A club? But I thought you were going to a party. And you only just got back now?’ For Claire, there was missing time and she wanted it filled.

Rain just stared at the floor.

‘She spends a lot of time in London and knows how to look after herself,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s different these days.’ As soon as she’d said it, Claire noticed the regretful look on Maggie’s face.

‘I really don’t think it is,’ she replied quietly. She turned back to the bacon. ‘I don’t think it’s different at all.’



* * *



Callum called out that he wasn’t hungry when Greta knocked on his bedroom door to let him know there was breakfast up at the farmhouse, that she and Jason were going up. He hadn’t slept well, and last night’s wine was banging in his skull. He felt ghastly.

Then he remembered.

‘Greta,’ he called out again. ‘Would you take Amy up to the farm with you?’ He was lying on his back in the dark, his arm spread across the empty space where Claire usually was. Greta replied that she would.

There was a pause, then Callum heard his daughter being cajoled into getting dressed. He rolled onto his side and pulled a pillow over his pounding head.

How could he have been so bloody stupid?

The scent on the pillow got to him first. A young, spicy aroma – slightly sweet but still tangy and tempting. Yes, dammit, that was it. Tempting. She’d tempted him, and he’d had no choice in the matter, especially with all the alcohol. Any man would have done the same. Then he saw the bangles on his bedside table. She’d left them on top of a novel that he was halfway through reading. Fuck.

So where the hell was she now? He’d forbidden her to leave earlier, even though she’d wanted to. He knew she’d just go running off, telling lies – he’d got the measure of her – and he’d needed time to think, to talk to her, for her to calm down. His whole body ached, and his brain throbbed against the inside of his skull.

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