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‘It’s Cy from the McLaren’s Mango Farm. Sorry for the late notice, but we have to head into town. We’ll have to reschedule if you’re still interested. No matter if you’re not.’

‘Oh, I am. I am. I was just getting ready to come over from the pub. But I can do that another day.’

‘Okay,’ Cy said slowly. ‘What suits you.’

‘Tomorrow any good?’

‘Yep, that suits me fine. Say around the same time? About two?’

‘That’s good, Mr McLaren. I’ll see you at two tomorrow.’

Before Cy could correct his name, the guy kept talking. ‘I’m super-duper keen to do this for you. It’s just the sort of thing I love to do. My father had a mango tree farm when I was a kid. I’m so looking forward to it. See you tomoz!’ He disconnected and Cy shook his head.

Tomoz? He didn’t need someone working alongside him who couldn’t shut up.

Anyway, he’d suss this Jerry guy out tomorrow, and if he wasn’t impressed, he’d dig the irrigation trenches himself.

Tarni wouldn’t be able to work for a few days. Maybe she’d like to come down and keep him company in the trees tomorrow if she felt up to it.

Chapter 17

Hotel Playa Feliz, Mexico - Sunday

Ellie

The smell of coconut oil wafting over from the occupied sun lounges surrounding Ellie took her back to the days when she, Emma, and Dru used to sunbake on the old wooden pier of the dam when the mango farm had belonged to Mum and Dad. So much had happened since those days, so much sadness and tragedy, but also there had been much to be thankful for.

Sometimes she wondered where their lives would have taken them if Dad hadn’t been murdered, but soon realised it was a waste of emotion.

Contentment filled her as she lay back on the padded lounge and soaked up the sun in the northern hemisphere. The three children were in the crèche not far from the pool, and Ellie was absolutely relaxed. An appointment for a facial and a massage was waiting for her in half an hour. Again, it was close to the crèche, and she’d call in and check on the kids before she went in.

Yesterday, when she’d checked on them, James and Verity had barely wanted to talk to her, and Matilda had been sound asleep. Ever since the issue with their friends, David and Gina’s children at Makowa Resort, Ellie had been nervous about leaving their children in anyone else’s care.

A ripple of excitement added to her contentment. When they’d been waiting for their flight in LA, Kane had suggested that they go to Italy this Christmas and visit the Johnson family at their villa in Chianti. Since Ellie had rescued Gina when she’d been kidnapped by Russell Fairweather’s henchman when she was pregnant with their third child, she and Ellie had grown very close. Even though David had quit as Chief Minister of the Territory, and the Johnsons had moved to Italy where Gina had grown up, Gina and Ellie had stayed in touch. They Facetimed most weeks.

‘Now that Cy has shown he’s interested in learning about the farm, we could leave him to look after things,’ Kane had said.

Ellie had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed her husband, not caring who was watching; they’d been planning on taking that trip for over five years, and now it was looking like a possibility.

She jumped as a shadow fell over her. Opening her eyes, she came out of her daydream and tilted her sun visor back. A tall man in a white tuxedo, with a black bowtie, stood next to her holding a silver tray. ‘I have your drink, Mrs McLaren.’

‘Gracias, Juan,’ she said after she glanced at his discreet name tag.

‘Would you like to refresh?’ he asked. She looked up at him quizzically, and he put the drink on the table next to her, then he lifted a pair of silver tongs from the tray and passed her a hot towel.

‘Yes, muchas gracias.’

‘It is entirely my pleasure, senora.’ Juan clicked his heels and turned and walked away.

Ellie couldn’t wait to tell her sisters about this place Her happiness clouded for a moment. She hadn’t heard from Dru since they’d arrived in Mexico almost a week ago; she’d texted a couple of times, but even though the Wi-Fi in the hotel was good Kane reminded her that maybe her texts weren’t sending. She sipped from her fruit cocktail and then sat up straight, digging into her beach bag for her phone. She would call home now; that way she could stop worrying and enjoy her beauty appointment.

And while the children weren’t around, she might have time to have a good chat. Once she’d called Dru, she’d try Emma too. Ellie quickly did the time difference calculation in her head; it was just after ten thirty in the morning here, so that would make it around teatime, Monday, at home.

She’d set the international call numbers in her contacts to dial out from Mexico as soon as they arrived. Mr Google had certainly been a good help, but she hadn’t tried any of them yet. Maybe it would be like her texts and not work.

Pressing the contact for Dru from Mexico, she pressed her phone to her ear as several long clicks, and then two shorts sounded. Then a series of beeps and Ellie crossed her fingers. She waited, and then to her delight, the phone rang.

Her face fell when the call dropped to voicemail. ‘Hello. this is Dru Kirk. Please call me later. I’m unavailable right now.’