He strangled a laugh and was about to cross the lane, back into the copse, when they heard the sound of piano playing.
Exchanging surprised glances, they made their way back to the garden wall and peered through the long, spiked leaves of a cabbage plant. The music was clearly coming from inside the house, but the mist had thickened again, makingthe delicate, rippling arpeggios seem almost ethereal as they floated out into the gloom. The harmonies became rich and fluid, growing in intensity, portraying drama and passion before softening again and fading away like the dying strains of a dream.
It was so hypnotic that, for a moment, neither of them moved or spoke, simply paused in the lingering aftermath of the beauty.
Cristy’s eye was caught by a movement at the side gate. She watched as someone emerged from the mist and felt her heart stumble to a stop. It was surely an illusion; it simply couldn’t be real …
She continued to stare, dumbfounded, as the apparition moved to the house and in through the door.
Connor turned to her. ‘Tell me I didn’t just see that,’ he said hoarsely. ‘That wasnotwhat I think it was, was it?’
Equally as appalled and totally unable to explain it, Cristy took his arm and hurried him back to the copse, all the way through it and into the safety of the car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘I don’t get it,’ Aiden cried in frustration. ‘What’s so shocking about some bloke dressed up in flowing white robes—’
‘You’re too young to understand the significance,’ his father interrupted. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged Cristy.
‘It was the last thing we expected to see,’ she confessed. ‘A bold-faced white supremacist in—’
‘I thought he was wearing a mask,’ Aiden jumped in.
‘Google it,’ Matthew told him. ‘Put in three capital Ks, see what you get.’
They were at the Côte Brasserie in Clifton, where Cristy had joined them as soon as she’d showered, washed her hair and stuffed her clothes on a super-hot wash. Connor’s car was a serious no-go zone for the next few days, while a magician of a valet worked on getting the seats clean and the stench out.
‘We have no idea what to make of it,’ she said, picking up her wine. ‘Of all the things we’ve heard about the man, nothing remotely political has come up, and certainly not like that.’
‘Are you sure you were reading it right?’ Matthew frowned. ‘There was a news story recently about some Aussies on a cruise ship who dressed up as snow cones and shocked the hell out of everyone, not realizing what they actually looked like. Same as our son, they were too young—’
‘What the … !’ Aiden exclaimed, staring at his phone in shock. ‘This is seriously messed up.’
‘Those people are,’ Cristy informed him. ‘They’re full of hate and prejudice and everything you can think of that’s vile. We can only be thankful they don’t live here.’
‘Some do,’ Matthew reminded her, ‘and from what you’re saying, at least one of them is on that farm in Wales. Unless, he or she was supposed to be a snow cone, of course.’
Managing a laugh, Cristy said, ‘I’m going to hope that’s all it was, because the alternative is … Well, apart from all the hideousness of it, I don’t know how we’d handle it. Badly, is probably the answer, but now we’ve had time to think about it, we’re wondering if it was actually staged for our benefit. It feels like the kind of thing this J.C. would do to freak us out – if he actually knew we were there, and I have a horrible feeling he did.’
Reaching for the bottle to refill their glasses, Matthew said, ‘So where do you go with that, if it turns out you’re right about any of it?’
‘We have a team meeting in the morning to discuss.’
Aiden started to laugh. ‘The bit I can’t get past,’ he said, ‘is you guys sliding about in shit. I’d kill to have seen that. And staring down an actualbull. Kudos to you, Mum. You are like no other.’
‘Kind of what I always say about her,’ Matthew put in, ‘but she never wants to hear it from me. So, moving on … Are we ready to? Sorry, is that—’
‘Definitely moving on,’ she confirmed. ‘Tell me what’s new with you and your second divorce?’
Matthew’s eyebrows rose.
Realizing her attempt at humour was actually offensive, (her sensitivity radar was definitely off these days), she said, ‘Sorry. What I meant was: how goes life with you, Marley and your baby son, Bear?’
Taking a sip of wine, he said, ‘We seem to be at a standstill right now, but I’m assured the divorce is going through, and Ishould hear any time now about shared custody. Obviously, my share will be holidays and whenever I can get to LA. Speaking of which, has Aiden told you about his plans for the summer yet?’
Aiden looked up from his phone. ‘They’ve changed again,’ he informed his father. ‘Hayley and Hugo have decided to let me join their tour of North America, which they’re planning to end on the West Coast, Vancouver, San Fran, LA. Uncle Tom’s giving us loads of advice for when—’
‘You’re in touch with him?’ Cristy asked, surprised and pleased. Tom had lived abroad for a long time and there had been shamefully scant contact between them since their mother’s death.
