53
Finula heard Marcus end the conversation on his phone. Excellent timing – their evening meal was just about ready. Entering the kitchen Marcus smelt the lasagne and garlic bread and his stomach gave a grumble. He hadn’t eaten since 11am that morning and had been tucked away, busy working in the studio down in the cellar. Finula, knowing he had a deadline to meet, had let him get on with the final touches of the documentary. Now, at last, it looked like he and his co-editor had finally reached the end of the project.
‘Hmm, this smells delicious, Finula.’ Marcus pulled out a chair and sat readily at the kitchen table and poured them both a glass of red wine.
‘Was that the BBC on the phone?’
‘It was. I’ve confirmed the documentary’s complete and they’ve given me the date.’
‘You mean when it’s to be shown on TV?’ Finula’s voice was lit with excitement.
‘Yep. The 1st of October.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait to see it!’ Finula placed two steaming-hot plates of lasagne on the table and sat opposite him. She picked up her glass. ‘Here’s to the documentary.’ They clinked glasses. Despite his wife’s enthusiasm, there was a part of him that couldn’t let go. That niggling sense of foreboding wouldn’t disappear. Whilst he knew the documentary had been produced to a very high standard, it was the content that worried him. Hispersonalfamily history was going to be the catalyst of its success; and with that came the inevitable exposure. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to stay as he was: Marcus Devlin, award-winning producer. His private life had been just that, private. He had lived a blessed life, nestled in the Shropshire hills, appreciating the peace and tranquillity. Converting his cellar into a high-spec studio meant he was still able to operate from home, in between visits to London.
All that could change. Once the media got wind of his ancestry, they’d plague him, just like they had his brothers, Tobias in particular. His mam’s history would be dug up and exposed, for all to see and judge. Thank God she wasn’t here to experience it – she’d never have coped with the press and unwanted attention. He wasn’t sure he could. His imagination ran riot. He envisaged a team of reporters camping outside his house. He looked at Finula sipping her wine nonchalantly. How would she manage with the sudden intrusion?
A dark dread began to simmer inside him. Should he ever have agreed to the interview? But the truth would out in any event and it was the best solution to put the family’s spin on it first. His mind then pictured being shadowed, never being able to leave his front door without a microphone being shoved in his face, or a car following behind him. At least Tobias and Sebastian had a bloody great fortress to hide in, with security to boot. What did he have? A humble cottage on a hillside, where any number of people could get at them. He was totally uncovered.
He glanced out of the kitchen window to the garden. Only a small, stone wall separated them from the surrounding countryside. Anyone could easily see in, especially with a long-lens camera. The more he contemplated it, the more anxious he became. Suddenly his appetite left him. Finula, sensing his mood, stopped eating.
‘You OK, Marcus?’ He looked into her concerned face.
‘Finula, I think we should go to Treweham when the documentary’s aired.’
‘Good idea, let’s all watch it together,’ she agreed smiling, not fully picking up on his reservations.
‘I also think we should stay with Tobias and Sebastian at Treweham Hall.’ He wanted a piece of that security, which meant not staying at The Templar.
‘Yeah fine.’ She shrugged, thinking it was only natural he should want to stay with his brothers. ‘I suppose Dad will have moved out of The Templar by then anyway.’ Marcus eyed her again. She really didn’t have any idea what was going to hit them. He remembered how carefree and happy they’d been on their honeymoon and so wished it could stay that way. Maybe that was the answer – to live in Ireland? But why should they have to run away? And he doubted Finula would want to be so far away from her dad. Hopefully, once the revelation had settled, he’d be left in peace and could carry on as normal, although a persistent uncertainty wouldn’t let him believe that.
He was going to talk to Tobias. He’d be able to advise him; after all, he’d been chased by the pack hounds most of his life. How he wished he could turn back the clock. But then, he’d never have met Finula, and gazing at this sexy redhead before him he retracted the thought.
‘Sure you’re OK?’ she asked again.
‘Yeah, just tired.’
‘Well, you’ve finished the documentary now.’ She smiled. ‘It’s time to sit back and relax.’
He gave a tight smile. If only.
