Dead Reckoning

by Claire Lorrimer

Genres: Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Althea, Cressida and Phoebe have been friends since their schooldays. Now a successful artist, Cressida has never married. Phoebe has a career as an actress, but she has always given priority to her married lover, and never achieved stardom. Only Althea ever married, swept off her feet by businessman Geoffrey Lewis. As is their custom every summer, the Lewises are preparing for their annual fête. Althea is delighted when Phoebe suggests they might like to engage the services of a fortune teller, Madame Tokoly. What seems like an excellent addition to the fête turns out to be unnerving and unwelcome when the fortune teller’s dire predictions for Geoffrey’s future prove uncannily accurate, and his life becomes increasingly endangered…

Release date: May 15, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 192

Sample

‘I had a phone call from Phoebe yesterday,’ Cressida said as she took the cup of tea her friend Althea Lewis was holding out to her. The two women were sitting at the breakfast bar in Althea’s state-of-the-art kitchen which, by unspoken agreement, they had chosen in preference to the large, beautifully furnished drawing room where Althea did most of her entertaining.

The two women, dressed alike in jeans and sun tops, looked surprisingly young for forty-year-olds; Althea fair-haired, blue-eyed and still remarkably attractive despite the mild thickening of her figure; Cressida dark-haired, hazel-eyed and big-boned. Where Althea’s complexion was flawless, Cressida had a permanent frown forcing her eyebrows into a V over her aquiline nose.

The two women had been close friends since their boarding-school days, even after their lives had veered sharply in opposite directions. Cressida had been to art college and emerged a promising young artist who soon started to make a name for herself. Cressida Cruse’s paintings, mainly of a botanical nature, turned out to be popular in the States, as a result of which she was entirely self-supporting.

She had lived at home in Northumberland, where her parents had converted their attic into a studio for her, but when Althea married the attractive Geoffrey Lewis and went to live with him in his mansion in Hurston Green, it had given Cressida the incentive to leave home, buy her own attractive little cottage in the same Sussex market town and resume their lapsed friendship. She herself had never married. ‘Never wanted to!’ she had told Althea. ‘I need to be free to work when I want, which means I eat and sleep any old time, not when a husband or children need me to attend to them. I suppose it’s selfish really. I don’t need a man.’

She and Althea had delved deeper into modern women’s lives, Althea finding it as difficult to understand Cressida’s desire for solitude as Cressida found it difficult to understand her need for love. It wasn’t a sexual need, she tried to explain, but a need to love and be loved. Terence Hutchins, her first husband, had been an ardent and devoted boyfriend in her youth, waiting patiently while she went through a series of brief affairs with young men she thought she loved and discovered she didn’t. Finally, Terence’s devotion had paid off and in her twenties, when she had become accidentally pregnant, and her choices had been having an abortion, being a single mum, or marrying the ever faithful and willing Terence, she had opted for the respectability of marriage.

In those early years she had done her best to settle down. She had tried to feel the proper maternal instinct towards her baby, to enjoy Terence’s unimaginative love making, and not least, to accept the life of a farmer’s wife. Terence came from the same background as herself, but was totally dedicated to his land and his animals. He would be up at dawn, snatch a quick breakfast and she would not see him again until nightfall, when he would return dirty and exhausted and unwilling to socialize.

It was into that void in Althea’s life that Geoffrey Lewis appeared. New owner of the large mansion house Hurston Grange, he was a stunningly good-looking property dealer, with estate-agency businesses in Brighton and nearby Headingborough. A handsome bachelor in his twenties, he was inevitably invited to parties and had a large circle of acquaintances, mainly other well-to-do people such as Bob and Jill Pearson. It was at one of their Christmas drinks parties that Althea had met Geoff. Despite the differences in their ages, their attraction was instant and mutual and when Terence found out and divorced her eight years ago, Geoffrey had married her.

Cressida had come to know them both well and could not understand how her friend could fall in love with someone so entirely self-centred and avaricious as Geoffrey. Making money and his own personal pleasures were all that seemed to matter to him. She was in no doubt that it was sex which kept the marriage from floundering. Like a jealous sibling, he resented Althea’s love for her son, Daryl, and she was unable to hide her distress when Geoffrey was barely civil to the boy.

‘What is Phoebe up to these days?’ Althea asked, interrupting Cressida’s thoughts. ‘We’ve not met up for ages! I hope she’s OK.’

In their schooldays, the three had been inseparable and although they had gone their own ways, Phoebe to drama school and Cressida to art college, they’d tried to meet up in London at least twice a year. A year or two ago, she, Geoffrey and Cressida had been down to Brighton to watch Phoebe, who had a minor role in a revival of J.B. Priestley’s The Linden Tree. They had had supper together afterwards and Geoff and Phoebe had seemed to get along well, but when Althea had suggested to Geoff on the way home that they should invite Phoebe for a weekend when the play’s run came to an end, he had announced that he’d found her ‘quite pretty but boring. All she could talk about was the theatre, acting, the plays she had been in. Besides,’ he’d added somewhat cruelly, ‘it’s obvious she’s only a bit player. If she’d ever been likely to get to the top, she’d have been picked for stardom long since.’

At the time, Althea had informed him that she would continue her friendship with Phoebe regardless of his opinion of her, but although she had got as far as writing to her to suggest a visit, Phoebe had written back to say she was shortly to go up north as she had been offered a good part in a pantomime; that she would get in touch when she returned south. She never did. Cressida had tried to make contact the following summer but this time her letter was returned, Unknown at this address, so there was nothing more she could do. Now she had suddenly reappeared.

‘She’s living in a flat in Worthing,’ Cressida told Althea. ‘She didn’t give me her address but said she is going to be in London on Wednesday next week, and wants either or both of us to meet her for lunch. I told her I didn’t think you’d be able to make it because I knew you were going to your Daryl’s sports day at school. I said that I would go, and we’re meeting at Selfridges.’ Her face creased suddenly into a smile. ‘Typical Phoebe – said she’d wear an orange beret so I would recognize her, as she had lost a lot of weight.’ The smile left Cressida’s face as she added, ‘She sounded a bit depressed, poor old thing.’

Althea drew a deep sigh. ‘Trouble is we are all getting older!’ she said with a half laugh. ‘Not that that affects you, Cressy. You’ve made a success of your life. By the sound of it, Geoff was right and Phoebe is still only a bit player and never will become a star. But you are becoming famous whereas I … well, with the fifties now in sight, I wonder what the hell I’ve done with my life.’

‘Come off it, Al!’ Cressida said, using the school nickname. ‘You’ve got a really charming, clever young son – how old is Daryl now, sixteen? – and a gorgeous home and a madly attractive husband, not to mention enough money to buy, if not sink, a battleship! Not every woman has to have a career, you know. You’re a wife and mother, which is more than I am! And a wonderful hostess. The parties you and Geoff give are legendary.’

The frown on Althea’s face eased into a smile. ‘I know I’m an ungrateful cow!’ she said. ‘I just hope poor old Phoebe isn’t too destitute. Her parents died ages ago, didn’t they? And she hasn’t any brothers or sisters. At least I’ve still got Ma and Pa should I need a bolt-hole, albeit way up in Scotland! See if you can find out what Phoebe’s circumstances are and maybe I can help. Give me a ring on Thursday, will you, Cressy, and tell me how she is?’

They were interrupted by Althea’s son, who came into the room, his school bag slung over one shoulder. Although only sixteen, he was already six foot tall and towered over his mother as he walked across to the bar.

‘Anything to eat, Mum? Afternoon, Aunt Cressida!’

‘Hi, Daryl!’ Cressida returned the boy’s smile. ‘And for the hundredth time, do please drop the “aunt”. It makes me feel even older then I am!’

He was remarkably good-looking, she thought as he reached past her to the plate of biscuits neither she nor Althea had touched. He had his mother’s fair hair, large blue eyes and graceful body. It was not surprising the girls he was meeting in the sixth form of his grammar school fancied him. But according to Althea, he was only interested in one girl, Susie White, the daughter of a retired policeman and his wife who lived in a Victorian house in Hurston Green called the Poplars. A clever child, Susie had won a place at Headingborough Grammar sixth form where, like Daryl, she was studying for her A-levels.

‘First love in all its intensity,’ Althea had described her son’s relationship with the sixteen-year-old. She liked the child, who was pretty and intelligent, and aiming for five good A-levels so she could get to veterinary college from which she would qualify and be associated in the same area as Daryl. His aim was to become a farmer like his father.

Cressida had never wanted a husband, let alone one like Geoffrey Lewis who she actively disliked, but she did envy Althea her handsome young son. Not only was he intelligent as well as good-looking, he had a delightful sense of humour. It did not surprise her that Althea doted on him. But for Daryl, Althea had once confided, she didn’t think she could have stayed in the marriage, for all its huge financial advantages. But her son and his academic career came first, his happiness paramount. She was well aware that Daryl loved his father and would have lived with him had it been practical. She knew that for her sake he tried to disguise his dislike of his stepfather and he never failed to show his love for her. Now, as she had said to Cressida when Susie surfaced as a serious rival for his time and affection, she would force herself to take second place.

‘You’re home early, aren’t you, darling?’ she asked her son as he finished the last of the biscuits and took an apple from the bowl of fruit on the unit behind him.

The smile left his face and he scowled. ‘He gave me a lift so I didn’t have to wait for the bus!’ he explained, refusing as always to call his stepfather by name. ‘I wanted to wait for Susie but … well, he was in a hurry and insisted I went with him seeing as how he’d gone out of his way to pick me up. I didn’t ask him to, and I wish he wouldn’t. He doesn’t seem to understand I’d rather come back on the bus with Susie.’

Althea bit her lip. Daryl’s dislike of his stepfather’s interference in his life was nothing new. Right from the time of her divorce, when he had wanted to live with his father, he had deeply resented Geoffrey ‘messing up all their lives’, as he put it. But Logan Hill Farm, where his father was still living, was a considerable distance from the nearest bus stop whereas the school pick-up bus went from the bottom of Hurston Grange’s front drive. Before her divorce Althea had always driven him to and from the village school, Terence being out somewhere on the farm at that early hour. Even Daryl couldn’t fail to see that the obvious thing was for him to live with his mother, at least from Monday to Friday. On Friday nights, he had invariably gone back to the farm to spend the weekend with his father.

Recently, he had stayed overnight at the Grange on a Friday and Saturday so he could take Susie to a party or, on the few occasions her parents permitted, to the local Saturday night disco. But Geoffrey was always picking on him and Althea was well aware that her son still blamed Geoffrey for his parents’ separation.

Cressida now eased herself off her stool and having kissed Althea on both cheeks she reached up and tapped Daryl affectionately on his cheek, saying: ‘Bye bye, Big Boy! See you again soon.’

Daryl grinned. He had known Cressida all his life and even thought when he was much younger that it would be nice if she’d married his father after the divorce so there would be someone to cook and see to domestic things. That idea had been quashed when he was older and saw how dedicated she was to her painting and how domesticity was the last of her considerations. Nowadays she meant more to him than just his mother’s favourite friend – she was his main confidante to whom he could express his acute dislike of his stepfather, and how he even hated him enough at times to wish he’d die! Only once had he expressed his feelings openly to his mother, calling Geoffrey boastful, selfish, vain, opinionated and, not least, rude and hateful towards her when he was in one of his nastier moods. These tantrums were nearly always as a result of his stepfather drinking too heavily, which invariably made him aggressive, argumentative and critical.

Althea tried to make excuses for her husband, explaining that his work as a property dealer was exacting; demanding time, concentration and special negotiating skills. It was what had made him at a very young age extremely successful as well as rich, and, she told Daryl, he should not forget that it was Geoffrey who paid for such things as his school skiing trip to Austria, his sports equipment, his mountain bike – to name but a few advantages he enjoyed. Geoffrey also paid for designer trainers, shirts, sweaters, golf clubs, a squash racket and last Christmas had bought the very expensive Nintendo Wii golf game. He’d even promised to buy Daryl a car once he was old enough to drive and had passed his test.

Daryl could not deny his stepfather’s generosity although, as he said to Susie, it was a drop in the ocean of his wealth. He currently had two large housing developments on the go, which he had boasted would bring him in at least two million, as well as the estate agencies and the London branch. Whenever new friends were visiting, he liked to tell them how at the age of seventeen he had started work at Gibbs Estate Agents in the large affluent town of Headingborough as an inexperienced junior. Within three years he had bought out old Alfred Gibbs and added his own name, and within another had opened a second branch in Brighton. By the time he was twenty-four he had bought Hurston Grange, having already obtained planning permission to build a large housing estate in part of the grounds, and selling off four acres of the land beyond the immediate vicinity of the house to a developer, all of which had made him a small fortune.

Althea had not realized when she married Geoffrey how addicted he was to the financial games he played. In the days when she had still been married to Terence he had made himself totally available. No one could have been more attentive, more ardent or more persuasive and, neglected as she had been by her workaholic husband, she had swiftly given in to her ardent lover who, she found out, was seven years younger than herself.

She could understand Daryl’s dislike of Geoffrey, who was responsible for the change of the lifestyle he had led at the farm. He and his father had got along very well in a silent, undemonstrative way, and he deeply resented the man who he thought was responsible for his parents’ divorce, and with whom he must now share his mother’s devotion. He had made no secret of the fact that he was deeply embarrassed when in those early years of the marriage Geoffrey displayed his sexual interest in his mother, standing behind her and pulling her against him, his arms encircling her waist, or crossing the room when he returned from work and, regardless of Daryl’s presence, kissing her on her mouth – long, sensuous kisses – with undisguised passion. His mother had known how he felt and must have said something to Geoffrey, who made it clear that it was up to Daryl to make himself scarce when he arrived home.

Nowadays, things were different. His stepfather was often late home as he took on more and more work; and when he did show up, sometimes as late as nine or ten in the evening, he would eat the meal Althea had laid ready for him in the large dining room, and after a whisky or two, which he called his ‘nightcap’, he would retire to bed, quite often sleeping in his dressing room if he thought his restlessness would disturb her. He seemed to have a great many worries, which was perhaps not surprising as his property empire was growing ever larger. Daryl now saw him only rarely, usually when for some reason his mother could not take or collect him from a weekend with his father, and Geoffrey, albeit reluctantly, did so. He always picked him up and dropped him off at the farm entrance so, Daryl told Susie, he would not have to meet his father – the man whose wife he had stolen.

Susie was on Daryl’s mind now. As Cressida was leaving the kitchen he hurried after her.

‘Could you give me a lift into town, Aunt Cress?’ he asked. ‘I said I’d meet up with Susie at McDonald’s at six.’ He turned to Althea adding: ‘You don’t mind, do you, Mum? I finished my homework at school.’

Althea managed to smile as she shook her head. In fact she treasured the time of day when her son returned from school and they could share a few hours’ companionship before Geoffrey got back from work; but she had known ever since Daryl had talked about his first serious girlfriend that she would have to take second place. But she had no intention of letting Daryl see how lonely she was these days.

As he raced upstairs to change his clothes, she smiled brightly at Cressida, who was now patiently waiting for Daryl’s return, knowing that her friend did not understand her feeling of isolation when she was alone.

Cressida spent most of her life in her studio perfectly happy with her canvases and paints. She didn’t need people, friends, a loving, attentive husband such as Geoffrey had once been. Now Althea hardly ever saw him and this at a time when her beloved only child was beginning to leave the nest, and she needed him most. Of course, she did have friends – Cressy, who she adored, and Bob and Jill Pearson, whose house was only a mile away. But Bob commuted to London every day and Jill was a golf fanatic so it was only in extreme weather conditions that she was free to meet up with Althea. Then there was Daisy Roberts, who was her age and who Althea liked very much, but her husband was vicar of St Andrew’s and Daisy spent a great deal of time visiting his parishioners and she also worked two days a week in the Oxfam shop in the High Street, sold poppies for Remembrance Day and raffle tickets for the Disabled Children Fund and collected second-hand clothes for European orphanages. Althea was well aware that she, too, could undertake such tasks but Geoffrey had always been adamant that she remained uncommitted. As he said, he never knew when he might want to invite a client for lunch or dinner, or a councillor or other such person with influence, who could be advantageous to whatever scheme he was currently involved in.

Daryl, now wearing his favourite T-shirt and jeans, his hair damp from the shower and brushed up into spikes, apologized to Cressida for keeping her waiting, hugged his mother and hurried out of the house, a half-eaten banana in his hand.

No wonder Susie loved him, Althea thought as she watched Cressida’s car disappear down the drive. Putting the tea things in the dishwasher, she looked round at the kitchen clock above the pine dresser and saw that it was only five thirty. Geoff had left that morning saying he would probably be home early. She should have been pleased and yet, standing alone i. . .