Chapter 8
A helicopter swoops low over Fulton Manor, it’s rotor blades whipping up a hurricane in the unkempt grounds as the pilot manoeuvres the craft until he can hover steadily above the asphalt circle I’d seen on my forgettable night time foray around the house.
“Talk about the idle rich,” I growl ungraciously as my Mother manoeuvres our ancient hatchback slowly up the driveway, taking care to avoid a posse of gawping locals as they wend their way towards the house. Despite my determined attempt to appear disinterested, I still find myself craning my neck to get a better look at the people I can see at the windows in the small passenger section of the craft.
“I doubt there’s anything idle about the Marsden’s,” My Mother replies tersely as she backs the car into one of the few remaining parking spaces. “You wouldn’t say no having that thing at your beck and call?”
I shrug as the chopper touches down, sending last year’s dead leaves and twigs flying in all directions.
“Give me pedal power every time.” I say. “Just look at the mess the thing’s made.” Mother remains rigidly unimpressed. “These grounds look as though they could do with ripping up and starting again anyway.” She says. “Now that the Marsden’s are here we might see a bit of order around the place.”
I shoot her an angry look. “And don’t bother to give me one of your lectures on how old these grounds are either.” She adds. “To me, it’s all just one big mess and it’s been in dire need of a good sort out for twenty years.”
I remain silent as we climb outside. Like everybody else around these parts, it seems Mother can see nothing wrong in Danny and his family turning up out of the blue to wreak havoc on the land, like a plague of over-sized fat locusts. My darkening mood worsens as the gale force winds caused by the dying rotors tear at my carefully gelled hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions as if I’d just pulled my head out of a spin dryer. I curse Danny as I pat it down again into some sort of shape. But it’s impossible and it begins to frizz. Why is it that whenever he’s around, I always look like a bag of last week’s laundry?
Right on cue, he appears at the front door with another man, clearly some sort of manservant. He doesn’t look over. In fact for the first time since I’d met him, Danny appears to be worried and I watch as he heads for the rear of the helicopter where an odd looking hydraulic apparatus is being lowered slowly to the ground. A second later a man in a wheelchair is strapped into it and it’s only when he’s safely on the ground and the helpers move aside, I realise this must be his Father. I watch Danny embrace him and they share a little joke.
Despite his obvious disability, Marsden senior is broad and looks immensely strong. He has thick swept back silver hair and he’s kind of how I imagine Danny might look one day, if he lives that long. The old man’s features are well defined, like they’ve been carved from stone and he’s very suntanned too. There are other people in the helicopter too but I don’t get a chance to see them.
“Are you coming inside or what?” Mother demands, tugging at my arm. “I don’t want to walk in there on my own.”
The main hall is fairly packed with people and I realise they’re not all from the village. Some of them look extremely wealthy. The beautiful people as my Father had called them. They’re obviously Marsden senior’s friends and business associates and when Danny appears he’s quite at home with a never ending round of hand shaking and back slapping. I make myself busy on the far side of the room getting my Mother and myself plates of food laid out buffet style on the long dining table which has been put against one wall for the occasion. The bar area is packed with free drink grabbers and I wait for a gap amongst the throng to be served. The whole place looks very swish and I guess it must have seen some high old times over the preceding century or so. The whole place appears to have been built around entertaining hundreds of people and it suits the purpose admirably.
“Day-dreaming again?” Danny says from close by. “I’m getting a bit worried about you?”
I turn to face him. “You’re good at sneaking up on people aren’t you?”
“Yes. In business I find that to be a positive asset and may I say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so lovely?”
“Thank you,” I concede. “And if it hadn’t been for that giant flying windmill of yours outside, my hair would have looked nice too.”
“Your hair’s fine, really.” He adds. “Can I get you a drink?”
I nod. “Vodka and Lemonade for Mum and I’ll have a Tomato juice please.”
“You’re still not going to have a little drop of the hard stuff?”
“No thank you. Alcohol has a devastating effect on me.”
He grins, his black eyes gleaming evilly. “Really?”
I pull a face as he breaks away to bully his way to the bar and returns moments later with the drinks.
“Was that your Father I saw getting out of his helicopter?” I say.
“Yes. But the helicopter isn’t his. It’s just a private charter. He lives in Spain for most of the year. Any kind of travelling is very difficult for him in his condition. So when he comes to visit, he always does it in style.”
“You didn’t mention.” I begin.
“I know.” He replies quickly. “Besides, I didn’t want to ruin your night any more than it was ruined already, especially when you told me about your own Father.”
“As I recall, your night wasn’t exactly a party.” I grin.
“Oh I’m not complaining. If you hadn’t fell into that pit I’d never have got to know you would I?”
“Are you trying to tell me you like knowing me?”
“Yes I am.”
He looks so sincere, I have look away from his hypnotic eyes and I stumble through my mind looking for stray words I can string into a coherent sentence until at last I say. “Did you ever catch that big cat that killed the sheep?”
“No, he’s still on the prowl out there somewhere. So be careful when you’re on your little wistful expeditions through those woods.”
I scowl at him, remembering that any wistful walking through my part of the wood from now on is likely lead to arrest for trespass.
“What’s the matter?” he says, catching my look.
“Nothing,” I lie. Reminding myself forcefully of the fact that I must not mention being anywhere near the trench at any time. “I suppose your army of tattooed roughnecks will be gutting the wood pretty soon then?”
His face falls a little and he seems at a loss for words, as if realising that whatever he says now will be a mistake. “As soon as we get the fences up, there’s little point in hanging about. The longer I wait the more I’ll be courting some rearguard action from the loony fringe and then I’ll have to go to all the trouble of getting them evicted. I’m also putting security men up there to keep an eye on the place from tomorrow morning.”
I try to look unconcerned but am glad of the opportunity to move the conversation away from the wood itself. “It won’t be very nice for them all alone up there!”
“Don’t worry.” Danny says. “They’ll have their own warm little hut and I might even give them some wages too, as long as they remember to doff caps whenever I’m around.”
“Not even you could be that bad?”
He laughs easily. “I just don’t want you taking up the cudgel on behalf of some poor exploited security men now that you’ve run out of mileage on the animal rights protest.”
I feel the lightening mood rapidly slide back to the old feelings of hostility towards him and try to keep my expression even through sheer willpower. He’s trying to bait me, but for once I have the ace up my sleeve and the thought of it thaws me out a little. “What makes you think I’ve run out of mileage?” I ask, incapable of letting the statement pass without some comment.
“The fence, security guards, big tough men in hard hats. Bit of a tall order to circumvent that lot isn’t it. Even for you?”
&n
bsp; “In other words, leave the place well alone or else?”
“Not at all.” He drawls. “You’re always welcome, as long as you don’t start tipping sugar in the digger’s fuel tanks or something.”
“What a good idea.” I say, feigning deep thought as I take another sip of my drink. I realise then I’m still holding Mum’s Vodka. “Anyway I’m sure I wouldn’t want to see it after you’ve done your worst to it.”
Conscious of his deep probing stare, I flick my gaze over to the other side of the room where Mother’s busily chatting and laughing with some people from the village. She looks happier than she has in ages and is already clutching a drink one of them has got for her. Danny squeezes my arm suddenly and I feel that familiar shock run through me like a massive charge of static electricity.
“Please, let’s not talk about all that anymore tonight.” He whispers.
I force a smile and am about to speak when someone calls from close by.
“Danny, Danny.”
Danny turns slowly, a look of surprise on his face. “Amanda,” he croaks, moving forward to hug the slim blonde in the sequined gown. She wraps her arms around him with all the stealth of an anaconda and gives me an odd look over his broad shoulder. At last, he manages to disentangle himself.
“Cathy, I want you to meet Amanda Williamson.”
We shake hands.
“Amanda’s my Father’s secretary.” He says. “She’s the real brains behind his mobile throne.”
“I don’t know about that.” Amanda gushes, before launching into a rundown of the rough crossing in the helicopter. I nod interestedly as the woman goes on and I experience a twinge of something I’m horrified to admit to myself is jealousy. A sensation so alien to my way of thinking that at first I fail to recognise the sudden tightness in my stomach and the overwhelming sensation of being short of breath for what it is. So this is Amanda, as tall, slim and beautiful as her clothes had suggested. She seems so elegant and at ease in her plush surroundings while I feel decidedly uncomfortable without my jeans and tee shirt. If the helicopter rotors had damaged her hair there was no evidence of it now and every honey blonde curl hangs in its allotted place.
“Come and talk to Jethro Tate,” she hisses quietly to Danny. “He’s already had one too many and there’s loose talk about some holiday complex in the South of France. I think there might be something in it for us.”
“All right,” Danny replies. “Surreptitiously eyeing the elderly bearded man on the opposite side of the room. I’ll be over in a minute.”
Amanda gives me a professional little grin before sweeping away with all the grace of a swan about to lift off.
“Amanda always wants to talk shop.” Danny sighs. “Sometimes I think there’s nothing else in her life.” Before I can reply, he dives through another gap in the bodies around us to help himself to some food from the buffet and I guess he’s done it to cover the strange look of embarrassment that has crept into his features. This is one emotion I would have put money on him not possessing.
“She obviously thinks a lot of you.” I say, when he reappears by my side. He goes on the defensive immediately.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning nothing. I was just making conversation that’s all. I gave her clothes to your housekeeper, so hopefully he’ll sneak them back and she’ll be none the wiser.”
“I told you.” He replies through a mouthful of sausage roll. “She won’t mind.”
The more I think about Amanda, the angrier I feel. There’s clearly something going on between the two of them and I can hardly fail to notice that wherever Amanda is in the room, her gaze is never away from Danny for more than a few seconds. “I really have to be leaving now.” I announce, draining my glass.
He looks taken aback. “Leaving. But you’ve only just got here.”
“I did say I would only come for appearances sake, remember.” I reply. “I don’t really want to be here anymore than you want me here and besides, it looks as though you’ve got people to talk to about some other project.”
Danny shrugs. “That can wait. But whatever gave you the idea that you’re not wanted here?”
“Oh nothing. It’s just, these people.” I say, trying not to appear bitchy. “They’re really not me. I can’t help but feel clumsy and very uncomfortable at gatherings like this. I’m already dreading my own sister’s wedding.”
He smiles. “To be honest Cathy, they’re not me either, but you can always make useful contacts at do’s like this. Don’t feel uncomfortable. It’s only because you’re not used to it that’s all. The feeling usually passes, especially after a few drinks.”
I give him the look.
“Still, that doesn’t really apply in your case does it?” He adds quickly.
I nibble at something rolled in a thin delicate pastry that’s impossible to identify with the state I have stupidly got myself into. Why did the awful man have such an effect on me? It just didn’t make any sense. To make matters worse Amanda continues to stare every time there’s a break in the conversation among the little group she’s standing with and eventually I move around in a slight arc to blot her out. “Are you intending to hang around these parts now planning permission has been granted?” I make the request sound as light as possible.
Danny frowns, “I suppose I’ll be around until the project’s well under way. I’ve got a lot to do in the next few weeks though, so I won’t be here very often.”
“Pastures new?”
“Yes, something like that.” He replies evasively.
I don’t like the sound of it though and it’s easy to imagine him moving a few miles along the coast to dig up some other old community. But before I could press him further, a tall elegant woman in a grey woollen dress appears at my side and I step back to allow her to pass but she stops right by us.
“You have to be Cathy Matthews?” She says, friendly and warm, squeezing my arm.
“Yes.” I reply, nervously glancing between them.
“Danny’s told us all about you. I’m Greta, Danny’s Mother.” The woman offers her hand and I’m soon musing again about why Danny should be discussing me with his family.
“Nothing bad I hope?” I grin.
“Nothing I couldn’t live with.” She replies. “I understand you’re one of the main protesters to his little project.”
I cringe with embarrassment. “Er yes.” I stammer.
Greta Marsden leans forward. “There’s absolutely no need to be embarrassed my dear. If it wasn’t for people like you, people like Danny and his Father would ride roughshod over everyone.”
Danny gives his Mother a sideways glance, but the woman is strong willed and rebellious. There’s no silencing her. “Never happy unless they’re digging something up and concreting over it. I despair at the thought of how this world will look one day if it’s left to people like them. One giant car park I suspect.”
I laugh, incredulous at finding an ally so close to the man. Danny’s face is a picture of embarrassment as he scowls up at the ceiling and it’s oddly warming to see him without his mask on. Greta grabs his arm. “This one thinks I’m crazy of course. Just because I’ve got a brain in my head and I’m not afraid to say what I think. Harrison was exactly the same when he was younger.”
She turns to look at her husband, holding court, surrounded by his faithful followers near the bay windows looking out over the grounds. He’s barely visible for the bodies clustered around him. “I know it’s probably a terrible thing to say but the accident made him a better person. Before, he had no time for anyone, me included. But he’s mellowed now and he leaves most of the donkey work to Danny and Amanda.”
Danny and Amanda. Even his Mother thought of them as a couple.
“I’m sure Cathy doesn’t want to hear about our little problems Mother.” Danny says.
But we ignore him and instead I turn my attention to Greta. Mrs Marsden’s very different to wha
t I had expected. Practically a conservationist like myself. No wonder he has that amusing horrified look in his eyes. I like the woman and don’t hesitate to let him know it too with a snide little grin at him the moment her attention focuses temporarily on a glass of white wine one of the waiters has passed her. “Can I ask what happened to your husband?” I say.
Greta’s expression clouds as she sips her drink and she turns her soft grey eyes to Danny who fidgets uncomfortably. “He had an accident.” She whispers. “Hurt his back a long time ago. He’s been in a wheelchair now for nearly, oh let me see; it’s just on fourteen years now.”
“Oh,” I reply, “I’m very sorry to hear that. He looks so fit and strong. But how did it happen?”
I again have to follow Greta’s gaze to Danny, who appears to be wearing that same horrible expression he had on the night I’d tumbled into the pit. The subject of his Father had been the cause of it on that occasion too and his eyebrows drop so low they give his face the appearance of being something not quite human. The look had frightened me when we were alone and it frightens me now, even in a room full of people.
“Are you all right?” I venture. What on earth was the matter with the man?
His Mother tries to rescue the situation and she speaks slowly and deliberately. “Let’s just say...It was a moments’ lack of vigilance.” The smooth lines of her face flush with sadness. “A terrible, terrible thing.”
I gulp, feeling guilt pulse through every blood vessel as Danny suddenly slams his drink down onto the table, snapping off the glass’s short chunky stem, before storming off towards the main doors, leaving us to face several interested stares from around the room. The most interested of all being from Amanda Williamson. My face is burning as if acid’s been thrown into it and I don’t quite know where to look. “I’m really very sorry Mrs Marsden.” I mumble. “I just didn’t think.. that after so many years...”
Greta Marsden has clawed back her composure as she gently butts in.
“It really isn’t your fault Cathy. It’s just that Danny is still very touchy about it all. It’s a raw nerve and he hates anybody prodding it.”
I place my half full glass down on the table. “I don’t suppose he’ll want to talk to me any more now.”
Greta grinned at me. “There’s only one way to find out.”