A Summer of Secrets Page 6

  Kind regards

  Thomas Heaton

  Blood rushed into her face and she immediately saved the email to her desktop.

  Sophia saw very little of Heaton to speak to over the next few days and he made no attempt to seek her out and speak to her. She wished that he had as she’d seen Lady Heaton behaving oddly again. She didn’t really know what to do about that either, how to broach the subject, or even if she should at all.

  Over a post-tour coffee in the kitchen, a visitor had asked if he could see one of the portraits again so she had taken him back up to the hall. While they were there, one of the drawing room doors had opened; Lady Heaton had stuck her head out and surveyed the hall suspiciously. Seeing Sophia and the visitor she had frowned, retreated and the door banged closed. The visitor had given Sophia a funny look and all she could do was shrug and hope that he would put it down to aristocratic eccentricity. Lady Heaton had never mentioned the scene in the library so, naturally, neither had she but this behaviour was down to something else. Clearly, Lady Heaton had expected her to be in the kitchen with the tour group and Heaton in his office as per usual. Why? What else was going on?

  Like the angry telephone caller had said, Heaton did more or less live in his office and was often still there until well after midnight. On Monday evening, Sophia turned off the television and, as was becoming a habit, went to the window and peered out through the curtains. Yes, he was still there. She reached for a jacket, went downstairs and across the stable yard, and knocked at the office door.

  “Yes?”

  She opened the door and stared. He was wearing the new glasses. Oh, God, maybe he should have got the Harry Potter ones instead. “I, er…I was just wondering whether you ever slept?”

  He smiled, took off the glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes.”

  “Well, you should give it a try, which is why I didn’t bring you a coffee. When did you get the glasses?”

  “This morning,” he replied, folding the arms behind the lenses, before putting them down on the desk. “They’re terrific, actually. My eyes don’t feel nearly as tired.”

  “Good. Well, I’d still give sleep a try. And I was also wondering if you were still coming to the moors tomorrow?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Tomorrow is Tuesday?”

  She nodded. “Do you ever take a full day off?” He pulled a comical expression, which gave her her answer. “And when was the last time you had a holiday?”

  “A holiday? You’ll have to remind me what that is. When were you last on a holiday?”

  “Five years ago,” she told him. “Lee and I had a week in the Canary Islands.”

  “You were with him a while, then?”

  “Six years in all. Too long.”

  He nodded. “You’ll be going to see your mother in the morning?”

  “Yes, and I’ll be doing the five-kilometre walk in the afternoon. I’m very predictable.”

  “I don’t know what that makes me, then.” He got up and stretched. “I’d like to come to the moors very much. I’ll try to keep my temper under control this time.”

  “I could bring a flask of coffee?” she suggested. “So we won’t have to go near a pub. Ed was an idiot at school and it looks as though he hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “That’s still no excuse for my behaviour. It spoiled the whole afternoon.”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “Well…” he began but tailed off and shut the PC down. “The Land Rover again?”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. My car definitely doesn’t have a sunroof.”

  “Thank you for your email.”

  She flushed and closed the office door. “Tell me if I’m interfering.”

  He gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “One thing you said has made me think, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “What you said about every family in the town having an ancestor who was a miner. I can’t very well meet her but I want to try and find out about Danielle’s family and ancestry. Will you help me?”

  Her heart began to thump. “Are you sure you want to do that? Get your head around the fact that she’s your mother, yes, but delve into her family and family tree? I don’t know…”

  “What, you think I’m such a snob that I’ll hate what we’ll find?”

  “No,” she exclaimed. “No, not at all. I just wonder now if it might be better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “I know she’s my mother whether I like it or not.” He sighed. “I just feel as if the rug has been pulled out from under my feet. And I am curious, I can’t help it. I’ve always known where I’ve come from, who I’m descended from. But now…”

  “Okay.” She relented. “But we’ll have to be careful. Michelle must never find out. Never.” He nodded. “Danielle went to the same school as Michelle and me. St Margaret’s Grammar School. It should narrow the Danielle O’Haras down a bit.”

  “Should do, I couldn’t believe how many there were.”

  “Have you looked on the internet at all before?” she asked. “For genealogy in general, I mean? When Mum and Dad started the family tree, they interrogated Mum’s aunt. You’re supposed to start with the family to see what they know and what documents they might have but, well, in this case, it’s impossible, so we’ll just have to do it the wrong way and the internet seems the best place to start.”

  “I’ve never used the internet much,” he admitted. “Surfing-wise, I mean. I only use it for emails, really. I put ‘genealogy’ into a search engine and millions of sites came up.”

  “It’s second only to porn search-wise. You just have to be more specific.”

  He nodded. “I must look into it. How far did you get back with your family?”

  “Well, Mum and Dad did it more than me. Once she was diagnosed with dementia she insisted on doing a family tree and telling Dad and me everything she knew. They eventually got back to the mid-eighteenth century before she had the stroke. We bought a genealogy computer program and I inputted everything and printed it out and had it bound nicely for them, documents and all. Who else uses this computer?”

  “Why?” he asked, giving it a quick glance.

  “Well, if Des uses it, he might wonder why you’re so interested in Danielle.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, he does use the internet here sometimes. He’s in between computers at the moment.”

  “We’d better use my laptop, then.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “Where does she live? Danielle?”

  “London. I’ll tell you a bit about her. Her husband’s called Don. They have a son and a daughter, Michelle and Peter. Michelle is the same age as me. Thirty-three. Peter is a year younger. Danielle moved to London from Leeds when she got married, not long after Mum and Dad married in October 1980. Michelle was up here all the time visiting her grandparents so eventually, she was sent to school here. She and Tony met at school. He was in the year above us.”

  “I was born in May 1976,” he told her. “That’s what it says on my birth certificate, anyway. But it has the woman I thought was my mother down as my mother, so I’m not taking anything as the truth.”

  She nodded. “I really don’t know how Danielle kept it a secret.”

  “What do you think my half-brother and sister would make of me?”

  “I have absolutely no idea,” she replied truthfully. “Listen. You must also never forget the fact that what happened was illegal. We have to be very careful about everything.”

  He sighed. “I know. It’s a bloody mess.”

  “Yes. We’ll make a proper start tomorrow evening?”

  He nodded. “Thank you. Goodnight, then.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Stopped at a red light while driving through the town to the nursing home the following morning, she saw Lady Heaton boarding a bus for Leeds carrying a large cardboard box. What was in the box, she wondered, as the light turned green?

  Her mother was having one of her relatively good spe
lls but how long it would last she didn’t know. Every time she saw her she looked even more frail than the time before.

  “I’ve picked some flowers for you.” She placed the flowers in the vase on the windowsill, skipping over the fact that it was actually Lady Heaton who had picked them from the walled garden. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, lovely. Have you started at the abbey yet?”

  “I…” She shot a glance at her father, who pulled a face and shrugged. “Yes, I have.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Lovely. I’ve taken some pictures of the house, gardens and flat. I’ve written what and where they are on the back of them.” She left the envelope, which she was going to have given to her father, on the bedside locker. “Lord Heaton remembers you and Dad from the opening of the museum and sends his regards.”

  “Regards?” Her mother frowned.

  “Yes. And I’m going walking with him on the moors this afternoon.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled. “Because he needs the exercise.” And I want to spend some more time with him.

  “Well, be careful. The man isn’t getting any younger.”

  Her smile faded. “It’s not old Lord Heaton, Mum, it’s his son.”

  “His son?” Mrs Nelson repeated. “How old is he?”

  “He’s in his late thirties.”

  “Thirties?” her mother exclaimed.

  “Yes. How are you feeling in general?” Sophia asked in an effort to change the subject.

  “All right, I suppose. Tired. How’s Sophia? Haven’t heard from her in months. That’s London for you, I suppose.”

  “Sophia’s fine,” she replied.

  “She’s not still with that fool of a boyfriend, is she?”

  Sophia shook her head. “No, they split up a while back.”

  “A while back? Has she a new boyfriend, then?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “There’s no-one new.”

  She was filling the flask with coffee after lunch when she heard a knock at the door of the flat. “I won’t be a moment,” she called, putting the lid on the flask. She placed the flask in a rucksack, grabbed her mobile phone, jacket, and keys then left the flat. She found Heaton waiting outside.

  “How was your mother?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “She thought I was my mum’s sister again. How many pullovers have you got on?”

  He laughed. “Two.”

  This time they made it as far as the stone circle. They sat down behind one of the upright stones out of the wind; she opened the flask and passed him one of the plastic cups.

  “It’s coffee,” she told him as she poured.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, do you think you’ll make it back to the Land Rover?” she asked, putting the flask down.

  He gave a short laugh. “Yes, I think so. I’ve been meaning to do this for ages. Get fit, I mean. I used to smoke twenty to thirty cigarettes a day up until two years ago and unfortunately, I started again recently.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “But your father?”

  “I know.” He grimaced. “I get such cravings, though.”

  “I threw up after my one and only cigarette. I thought that if that’s what they do to me only after a couple of puffs…”

  “They’re disgusting things but I can’t help it.” He drank the coffee and passed the cup back to her. “Thank you. Call of nature, excuse me.”

  He got up and she finished her coffee, returned the flask to her rucksack, and rested her head back against the stone.

  “Have you ever fallen asleep up here?” She heard his voice and opened her eyes as he sat down again.

  “Almost. Last summer I nearly nodded off. I bet you’ve often slept in the office.”

  He smiled. “Oh, yes, many times. I got a letter yesterday from the local tourist office. They’re bringing out a brochure to try and attract more tourists into this area and they want to interview me.” He cringed. “It will be great publicity for the estate but I’m really afraid that I’ll come across as an idiot.”

  “An idiot?” she repeated.

  “I’ve never been interviewed before,” he explained. “As Lord Heaton, I mean. I’ve no idea what I could be asked. I’ve opened the estate up because it needs the money, it’s just that I don’t really want the world to know that. I know that it needs to pay for itself in a different way now but…oh, I don’t know.”

  “Well, say that, and tell them what it’s like to have a title in this day and age. I know that they don’t expect you to walk around in a suit of armour but tell them how hard you work.”

  “Then stop talking about myself and start plugging the place?” he finished.

  She nodded then jumped as her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. It was the nursing home. Her heart pounded as she answered. “Sophia Nelson speaking.”

  “Ms Nelson, this is Fiona Mead at Rich Hill.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Ms Nelson, would it be possible for you to come straight here?”

  She met Heaton’s eyes. “Mum’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid she is. I’m so very sorry.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call, went to get up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Heaton caught her and gently lowered her down onto the grass. “Mum’s dead,” she croaked.

  The next few hours were a complete haze. How Heaton got her back to the Land Rover, she never knew, but he had taken complete charge of her, she realised, as she sat in her father’s house with a glass of whisky in her hand. First, he brought her to the nursing home, where they had spoken to the clinical director, who informed them that her father had been with her mother when she died and had just left. Sophia saw her mother and kissed her goodbye before Heaton brought her to The Beeches. Her father struggled up from a chair and embraced her before staring rudely at Heaton.

  “Dad, this is Lord Heaton. Lord Heaton, this is my father, William Nelson.”

  “My deepest condolences, Mr Nelson.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The funeral?” she said suddenly.

  “Do you have a family undertaker?” Heaton asked gently.

  She frowned. “A family undertaker?”

  “Yes. What is the firm’s name?”

  “McKenzie Brothers,” her father replied. “Buried my parents.”

  He nodded. “A good firm. They’re our family undertakers, too. Would you like me to ring them and ask that someone call here in the morning? Or would you prefer to go to their office?”

  “If someone could come here, please. The telephone and telephone directory are on the table in the hall.”

  “I won’t be long,” he said and left the room.

  Going to her father, she crouched down and squeezed his hands. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “Don’t be silly, you couldn’t be there all day every day.”

  “I know but…” She sighed. “Do you want a drink, too?”

  “I don’t think so, no. Sophia, you must promise me something?”

  “If I can,” she replied warily.

  “Don’t leave it too long before you have children. Your mum and I left it too late and now look.”

  “Dad…”

  “I mean it.” He was adamant. “We were old parents, more like grandparents.”

  “No.”

  “You’d have liked brothers and sisters, I know. You and Lord Heaton are being very kind. He’s not really what I expected.”

  “No?”

  They both looked up as Heaton came back into the room.

  “Mr McKenzie will be here at ten in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” She got up and gave him a weak smile. “I’ll go and find the sleeping bag.”

  “No, you go back to the abbey,” her father told her and she shook her head. She couldn’t leave him here on his own.

  “But, Dad?”

  “I
mean it, Sophia. I want to be on my own.”

  “No, Dad.”

  “Yes.” He was insistent and her heart sank. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Heaton accompanied her to the door of her flat. “I’ll ask Mrs Fields to call over later to you with some dinner.”

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket. “You’ve been so very kind.”

  “If you need anything, I’ll be in the office.”

  She nodded and opened the door. She climbed the stairs to the flat, closed the door behind her, and wept.

  Helen Fields called just after seven o’clock with a plate of steak and kidney pie. Sophia wasn’t feeling at all hungry but it seemed as though Helen was going to sit and make sure she ate it all. She just about managed it, thanked Helen, then saw her to the door. Going to her bedroom, she sat on the bed with her phone and rang Michelle.

  “Michelle?”

  “Sophia? How are you?”

  “Not good,” she replied in a shaky voice. “Mum died today.”

  “Oh, God, no,” Michelle exclaimed. “Oh, Sophia, I am so sorry.”

  “Thanks. Another stroke. Poor Mum.”

  “Yes. Would you like me to come over?”

  She heard a loud sniff-like sound in the background as Michelle was speaking. “What’s that noise?”

  “Cathy. She’s got a bad cold. Been off school the past three days.”

  “No, stay there. Poor little thing. Say hello from me?”

  “I will. Do you need a hand with the funeral arrangements?”

  “No, someone from McKenzie’s is coming to Dad’s in the morning.”

  “Okay. Soph, I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. Could you let your mum know? It doesn’t matter if she can’t come,” she added quickly. “Just if you could let her know?”

  “Yes, I’ll tell her. They were good friends, your mum and mine. Your mum was always so good to me. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

  At a quarter to three in the morning, she woke up needing to go to the bathroom. Switching the light on in the living area, she almost jumped out of her skin when she realised she wasn’t alone. Heaton was fast asleep in one of the armchairs.

  She went to the bathroom then back to her bedroom and retrieved a blanket from the top of the wardrobe. Carefully, she draped the blanket over him but he was so sound asleep he didn’t even stir. She watched him curiously for a few moments, breathing slowly and deeply, a growth of dark stubble on his cheeks. How long had he been there? She went back to bed and switched off the light, feeling relieved and comforted that he was nearby.