HELEN BROOKS - Sweet Betrayal

‘What’s wrong, Kevin?’ She went down on her heels in front of the small, woebegone figure, who lifted a grubby, tear-stained face up to her with a loud sniff.

‘I want me mam.’

‘You know she’s coming for you later, after work, and Grandma is picking you up for lunch, isn’t she?’ He nodded dismally, a wealth of sadness in his large blue eyes. She rose up with him in her arms and carried him over to her chair, ignoring Cameron as though he didn’t exist.

‘It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’ She had found in the last few weeks since his father had died that distraction was the best policy, combined with a close cuddle. He nodded again, looking up at her quickly.

‘How old will you be?’

‘You know, miss.’ He wriggled delightedly at her asking.

‘Oh, yes.’ She pretended to consider a moment. ‘Twenty-one, isn’t it?’

‘Six.’

‘Six?’ She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror. ‘But you’re enormous! You aren’t kidding me, are you?’ He shook his head, but she noticed that the tears had dried up and a small smile was playing round the milk-stained mouth.

‘I bet you’ll get lots of presents.’ She knew for a fact that half the village had already bought the small lad a gift, stunned and horrified as they all were at the tragic accident.

‘I can’t have a party.’ He turned his great eyes up to her again. ‘Me mam hasn’t got enough pennies this year.’ He was clearly going to follow the train of thought that would lead him to why and his father’s death, so she cut in quickly, her voice bright.

‘Oh, we’re having a party here for you,’ she improvised rapidly. ‘A big cake and streamers and everything.’

‘And balloons?’ His face had suddenly become alight and she smiled as she nodded vigorously.

‘Of course, lots of balloons. Do you want to go and tell the other children now and then you can all start looking forward to it.’

‘Me tell them?’ This was clearly the icing on the cake and he slid off her lap and marched to the door, his thin shoulders squared with importance.

‘What was all that about?’ She had almost forgotten Cameron was there, but now he moved round to her side from where he had been standing leaning quietly against the wall. ‘Do you have parties for all the children?’

She felt it was another criticism on needless expenditure and glared at him angrily, her face burning. ‘Of course not, but Kevin has lost his father recently and there’s only him and his mother. The grandparents help, but she’s finding it hard and the pair of them aren’t over the first shock yet.’

‘Is that Mike Wilson’s son?’ His voice was harsh. She nodded slowly.

‘I read the report on that yesterday. It happened on my father’s property, didn’t it? The man pulled down a load of stacked logs on himself when he was drunk.’

‘He’d been drinking the night before, yes,’ Candy answered tightly, ‘but I understand the accident was just one of those things.’

‘Hardly.’ Cameron’s voice was cold. ‘The insurance company don’t want to know. There was no negligence on my father’s part, just sheer stupidity on Wilson’s side. From the amount of alcohol still in his system I’m amazed he could have stood up. I’m afraid the family won’t get a penny in damages.’

‘They already know that,’ she answered shortly, astounded by his lack of compassion. ‘And don’t worry, they have no intention of trying to get you to pay anything.’ She almost spat the words at him. He was worse than ever she had imagined. She would never have believed a human being could be so devoid of even the most elementary tenderness. There had been no sympathy in his voice, just cold, harsh censure and biting condemnation.

‘I’m aware of that,’ he answered abruptly, his dark head tilted to one side as he considered her furious face. ‘You’re determined to cast me in the role of wicked black baron, aren’t you? Do you always make such snap judgements? I wouldn’t have thought in your line of profession that was very wise.’ There it was again, that subtle criticism of her capabilities!

‘It’s no snap judgement where you are concerned,’ she answered bitingly. ‘I’ve had ten years to make up my mind about you.’

‘And hating me for every one of them?’ he asked mockingly.

‘Dead right.’ She turned and looked him full in the face. ‘To me you are the lowest thing that ever walked this earth, Cameron Strythe; a fly-blown maggot is more appealing than you.’

‘A doubtful comparison, but I think I get the message.’ The man was so infuriatingly in control, she thought wildly, as he moved lazily towards the door from which he had entered. He turned on the threshold and held her with his icy blue gaze. ‘Do I take it I am the heartless villain and your sister is the pure white innocent in this vivid imagination of yours?’

‘She was pregnant with your child and you walked out on her,’ Candy answered baldly. ‘Those are the facts; you can’t change them.’

‘And if I denied that?’

‘I wouldn’t believe you.’

‘I thought so.’ The light from the window was turning her hair into glowing fire as she stood looking at him, her eyes great black pools of pain in her chalkwhite face. He shook his head slowly, his face closed against her.

‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave...’

‘What?’ Her voice was sharp and he shook his head again, his face clearing.

‘Five tonight at the house, Candy.’

‘You still want me to come?’ She stared at him in surprise. She had thought after this little exchange there would be nothing left to say. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come back and pinned a notice on the door stating the school was closed until further notice!

He nodded abruptly as he left, leaving her staring miserably at the empty doorway. What a mess! What a hopeless, impossible mess. She wondered how long it would be before he could close them down. There would be official channels to go through and such like, but with Colonel Strythe gone their only support had vanished, and the council would be quick to point that out. Six months, nine months, certainly no more. The council had been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.

The first faint fingers of dusk were touching the blue-grey sky as she made her way towards the farm later that day. Normally she would have enjoyed the walk to the Strythe house, taking pleasure in the small hump-backed bridge below which the crystal-clear waters of the gurgling stream were forded by steppingstones, and the huge, sweeping drive lined with evergreen yews, oaks and beech trees, but today the beauty around her was wasted. Her whole being was concentrated on the confrontation ahead and she was dreading it. She wished Charles Strythe hadn’t died; she wished Cameron hadn’t come back; she wished so many things...

‘Hello, Miss Candy.’ Mrs Baines ushered her into the wide wood-panelled hall with a beaming smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, makes it seem more like old times.’ The round red-cheeked face took on a sober expression that didn’t sit well on the plump little woman. Mrs Baines had been with Colonel Strythe as long as she could remember, Candy mused; she must be missing him dreadfully. ‘Come to see Mr Cameron, I understand? You go into the drawing-room and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

Candy made her way to the drawing-room, looking round this room she had always loved as she entered. The Strythe house was built more in the style of a country mansion than of the average farmhouse seen scattered through the county. The rooms were large and high, with beautifully sculptured ceilings and vast window-seats, thick, deep carpets and long velvet curtains.