Malcolm rushed out, flustered. ‘Mrs Jory, I realise this must be very disturbing for you, and I am truly sorry for this diabolical mix-up which I assure you we are going to get to the bottom of, but I think you should leave.’
Chloe, about to burst into tears, blurted, ‘All I remember is that I think he said he was a brother; yes, that’s right, it was Archie’s brother.’
‘His brother?’ Rita was wide eyed. ‘Are you really sure about this? Archie was an only child.’
Rita took the bend out of town like she was inThe Italian Job, her little blue Suzuki Jimny growling in protest. She didn’t care. Rage, heartbreak, and something dangerously close to hysteria were coiled tight in her chest, and the only thing that made sense was the sea.
She tore down the coast road, eyes misted, breath shallow, the radio babbling nonsense she couldn’t hear. Every pothole rattledher bones, every gust of wind shoved at the car like it was trying to say, ‘Turn back.’ But she didn’t. She wouldn’t.
The weather had changed as quickly as the confusing news that Rita had just received. She pulled up at the beach, the same stretch of sand where, just weeks ago, she’d been wrapped in Paul’s arms and buoyed by the laughter of her retreat friends. Now, the joy of that day felt like a distant dream.
The blue skies that once shimmered with promise had curdled into brooding grey. Rain began to fall, a soft patter at first, then harder, sharper, as if the heavens had lost patience, too. A low rumble of thunder rolled across the bay, followed by a jagged fork of lightning that tore the sky in two. She barely noticed the screeching of fretting seabirds above or the salty spray that stung her face.
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, she walked along the wild and windy beach. Lies. Secrets. A brother? A will that vanished into thin air. Who the hell was Archie Jory? Because at this minute she didn’t know. And as for Hilda, why on earth had she not told her that there was yet another Jory on the scene? Or was there? Everything was too bizarre for words. If this was true maybe Thomas had been telling her the truth when he’d said that he knew nothing about it. Then again, maybe he had thrown in the ‘brother’ card to hurl her off the scent.
She didn’t know how long she walked, up and down the beach, the wind screaming in her ears, matching the chaos inside her. The grey waves crashed relentlessly onto the shore, breaking into foamy white like the fragile pieces of her shattered trust.
Rita stood facing the storm, the ocean’s fury mirroring the turmoil within. Whatever it took, she would uncover the truth, she would find out who Archie’s child was, who the woman he slept with was and no matter how deep the lies ran she would find out who this mystery ‘brother’ was too.
FORTY-TWO
Rita wrestled the key into the stiff old lock, rainwater dripping from her coat and pooling on the worn flagstones beneath her feet. The summer storm was still raging outside, wind howling through the outbuildings and the waves crashing against the cliffs below. Night had fallen earlier than expected, swallowed by thick, bruised clouds that clung low over the bay.
Inside, the farmhouse felt hollow. Even Henry didn’t lift an eyelid from his Aga-fronted bed. Cold, damp air greeted her like a sigh. She kicked off her boots with a squelch, peeled her sodden coat from her shoulders, and left it in a heap by the door. Her jeans clung miserably to her thighs. Everything felt wrong. She felt wrong.
She didn’t bother with the lights. All she wanted was to get into a deep, hot bath, a place to hide from the world where no one needed anything from her, not her thoughts, not her words, not her heart.
Before, when she’d spoken to Kelly, she’d managed to feel oddly calm about Archie’s supposed mystery child. Detached. As though it had happened to someone else, in someone else’s life. But now, back in the cold silence of the house that she and Archie had shared so many good times in, it hit her like a punch to the ribs.
The lies. The debt. The way he’d left her stranded in the middle of the financial storm he’d created. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her himself. Just let it all unravel around her while he vanished into the fog. What if Archie had a whole secret life she hadn’t been part of, and he’d been stupid enough to think love was enough to fix it all?
She was halfway up the stairs when the knock came, sharp, impatient, too sudden to ignore.
She paused, heart thudding in that strange, hollow way it does when you’re not sure who it might be.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
She sighed, padded back down, and opened the door.
Teo stood in the porch, rain speckled across his shoulders and cap. His cheeks were flushed, his expression unreadable.
‘You look like a shipwreck,’ he said gently, shutting out the storm.
‘I feel like one.’
‘I saw you come in; I was worried about you.’
‘I was just going up for a bath, but sit… do you want a drink of something?’
‘No, no, I go now. I’m staying at Jude’s tonight for a change.’
‘Zenya’s away on a cookery course, too, isn’t she?’
Teo nodded. ‘Do you want me to stay so you are not all alone?’ He really meant it, too. ‘I can.’
‘No, don’t be silly. Enjoy the downtime with your fella, whilst we have no guests.’
Teo smiled gently. ‘I was wanting to see if you werebienand to tell you that… well… it’s Hilda. She no here, anymore. She gone.’
