“He probably is. But I suspect he was made that way. Not that being made rather than being born changes the outcome. I’d not trust him with any sharp objects. He tries hard to be charming and largely succeeds. I think he genuinely wants, no . . . more like needs to be liked. I also suspect he has created his own persona as a direct reaction to his sister who Bridie described as a complete and utter bitch. Considering Bridie usually has something nice to say about nearly everyone, even if that means she has to dig deep and occasionally stretch the truth, I feel we should take notice of her opinion. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  Mac laughed. “Well if anyone can handle her, it would be you.” He glanced back out of the window, noting that the figure had now reached the trees beside the lake and another had joined them. One was certainly Charlie Brewster. The other was most definitely Fitch. Mac stiffened and Rina noticed. She came over to the window, staying back out of sight of anyone glancing up, and gazed out across the lawn.

  “Now that is interesting,” she said. “And they don’t seem to be having a very pleasant conversation, do they?” she added, referencing the posturing and arm-waving that was going on.

  “No, they don’t,” Mac agreed.

  “Who are you watching?” Miriam asked.

  “Charlie and Fitch having a row,” Rina told her.

  The bedroom window was open, but the two men were far enough away that they could not be heard, even on the still night air that carried sound. For all the arm-waving and posturing, they were clearly at pains to keep their voices down.

  “Fitch told me he was off to watch some television and then go to bed,” Mac said.

  “Well, he could hardly tell you he was heading off to have a knock down row with Charlie Brewster,” Rina pointed out.

  “True. So, what’s it about?”

  “I’m sort of hoping we don’t find out,” Miriam told them both. “This is supposed to be a joyful occasion, you know. A big fat wedding with lots of food and champagne and dancing and two people we love tying the knot. I don’t want to know about other people’s gripes and grievances, I just want to have a break from work and a good time.”

  Rina nodded and turned from the window. “And quite right too,” she agreed. “And on that note, I’ll bid the pair of you goodnight.” She kissed them both on the cheek and gave Miriam an extra hug. “Sleep well, you two,” she said.

  “Rina,” Mac warned. “No sneaking around, please.”

  “As if I would. No, I’m off to my bed.”

  Mac sighed heavily as she closed the door. He watched from the window a little longer, much to Miriam’s amusement, just to ensure that Rina had kept her word and not crept ninja-style through the shrubbery to spy on the two men. To his relief there was no sign of her and after another five minutes or so, Charlie stormed off along the path by the lake and Fitch made his way back to the house. Crossing the lawn, he glanced up at Mac’s window and for an instant their eyes locked, then Fitch walked on and Mac stepped back into the room and closed the curtains.

  “I know that look,” Miriam said. “It usually spells trouble. Can’t we ever just have an ordinary weekend away?”

  “Believe me, I hope so,” he told her. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  * * *

  Ruari had been watching as the two men met. Surprised by the fact that Charlie would get into it with Fitch on the eve of the wedding though, he supposed there’d not be much opportunity on the day of the ceremony. What the hell did Charlie expect? That the Duggans would roll over and agree to what he wanted? Surely even Charlie Brewster wasn’t that dim?

  The two men were clearly angry, Fitch gesticulating and Charlie really getting into his face. Amused, he raised his phone, checking the night setting and took a few shots before shifting to the infrared and firing off a few more.

  Charlie glanced his way, Fitch, pausing mid-sentence turning to see what had attracted Charlie’s attention. Ruari froze, for a moment wondering if they’d heard him or if it was simply that these two men were possessed of the same heightened awareness of potential threat as he was. Somewhat to his relief, Charlie turned away again as though satisfied that there was, after all, nothing worthy of his attention. Fitch, he noticed, took a little longer to pull his gaze away.

  He remained where he was, silent and unmoving until Fitch finally walked away and Charlie, frowning, followed him a moment later, crossing the lawn and then veering off towards the guest house. Watching him, Ruari raised his phone again, firing off a few more shots. Brother Charlie had a target on his back; he just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter 5

  The following morning Rina and Tim had set out to explore before the rest of the guests descended. The island was a rough teardrop shape but with an odd, elongated arm protruding from the narrow end, out into the lake. Along this peninsula sat a row of cottages, now holiday lets, and two larger houses, one of which she was told had belonged to the vicar and one to the land manager responsible for the then extensive estate.

  It was easy to forget, Rina thought, that the island had been only a small part of what the owners of Milbourn House had controlled. It hadn’t even been their main residence. That had been a much larger house, lost to death duties between the wars when it was cheaper to knock it down than to pay the taxes on it. The land on which it stood had been bought for the power station, now in its turn being demolished, only the last remnants of the cooling towers remained alongside the canal that the Milbourns had financed in order to get their goods to market. The canal continued past the house and on to where the factory had stood, then three miles away but long since razed.

  The house manager had told Rina that although the guests in the holiday cottages were not connected to Bridie or her party, Bridie had sent out invitations for the evening festivities as a courtesy. Rina doubted the party would be noisy enough to bother anyone so far from the main house, though the music might drift over, she supposed, but it was a nice gesture on Bridie’s part and very typical of the woman she had come to know.

  Tim had joined her on the walk. The photographer had arrived very early that morning and Bridie, Joy and Ursula were apparently to be involved in recording a complete account of the day. He was therefore very bored.

  “Have you seen the dresses?” she asked Tim.

  “Not so much as a thread. And Joy won’t tell me anything. She says it’ll be a nice surprise. Though I do know the mini bridesmaids will be dressed as fairies, complete with little gauzy wings.”

  “Mini bridesmaids?”

  “Children of cousins and old friends, I think, and Brian’s little girl. Four of them, all under five, so that’ll be fun.” He grinned at Rina. “At least I don’t have to do the clown act.”

  “Just as well.” Tim was a professional magician and also a consultant on all things magical to a games designer. In his early days, he had performed at far more children’s parties than had been good for his sanity. The ceremonial burning of his orange wig, after the last of these, had been a moment of pure relief for both Tim and Rina.

  “What’s up with Mac?” Tim asked.

  “Up with Mac?”

  “He’s twitchy. He’s acting like there’s a bear hiding behind every tree. I’m used to Mac being on the alert, but he’s usually a bit more relaxed around Bridie and Fitch.”

  Briefly, Rina filled him in on the events of the previous evening and on the summons Mac had received for an audience with the chief constable before they had left. “So he’s finding it hard to relax,” she explained.

  “And what’s Rina’s twitchy nose telling her? You expecting trouble?”

  Rina thought about it for a moment and then said, “I rather suspect I am. Hopefully nothing serious, but . . .”

  Tim nodded. “Fair enough. Look, there’s another jetty over there.”

  “So there is. I suppose that was originally for the servants to get across, away from the main house. They would not have wanted servants landing outside of the front door.”

  The jetty was stone-built unlike the recently constructed wooden structures on either shore of the lake, closer to the house. Two rowing boats were tied up alongside and a kayak lay upturned on the jetty itself. A wooden pontoon stood at the far side of the lake with another rowing boat tied up beside it. The water was clear and Rina stood for a moment looking for fish. A man emerged from one of the cottages and shouted a good morning which they returned.

  “Are you with the wedding party?” he asked as he came closer. “They’ve got a lovely day for it.”

  “We are and they have indeed.”

  Tim fidgeted restlessly and, Rina taking her cue, walked slowly on. “Fancy having a look at the monastery?” he said, as they reached the furthest point of the jutting arm, beyond the row of cottages and the two larger houses which closer inspection revealed were now holiday flats. Rina found herself wondering what kind of people came to stay here. Adults, she would have thought, pretty much exclusively; there was little here for children to do. No play parks or a swimming pool. She remembered what Bridie had said about swimming in the lake and playing in the woods, but would parents be comfortable with their offspring being that adventurous? The kind of parents that could afford to stay in a place like this would most likely want their kids doing supervised activities with personal trainers — or was she just being classist, Rina wondered. She realised with some surprise that she actually knew very few people with young children and those she did tended to be residents on the local housing estate or living in the less desirable, smaller houses backing onto the promenade. George and Ursula, though she had known them since before they became teenagers, certainly no longer qualified as children.

  Frantham still had a primary school but once they turned eleven, kids were bussed into Bridport for their secondary education. Finding a place to live once they’d grown was its own challenge. She’d been lucky, buying Peverill Lodge when she did, it was unlikely she could have afforded anything like that these days and be able to house her friends in comfort as she did now. Rina knew she would have been heartbroken had she been unable to provide safe haven for the Peters sisters or the Montmorencys, lifelong performers with precarious incomes and for whom old age had been fearful. Tim had lived with them for a while and occasionally she had offered sanctuary to others who had needed respite and a safe place to be — even Mac in his early days in Frantham.

  “Penny for them,” Tim said.

  “Thinking we are very lucky,” Rina told him.

  He took her arm and slipped it through his. “That we are.”

  They entered the monastery through the chapel door. Inside it was surprisingly large with pretty but, Rina felt, over-sentimental Victorian stained glass, though she did admire the way the blue and yellow light poured down onto the altar. The ceiling was vaulted with wooden planks rather than carved stone and looked like the upturned hull of a boat. The wedding ceremony was to be in the marquee on the lawn rather than in here, the ceremony being civil rather than religious and besides, this place would never have been big enough to accommodate the guests. “I’m guessing it was quite a small community,” she said.

  Tim had picked up a brochure from the table just inside the door and they followed the helpful map out of the side door and into the main building. A long corridor, this time barrel-vaulted, with doors to small rooms on one side and arched windows looking out onto a small, enclosed garden on the other, led through the building towards what according to the guidebook was the kitchen and dining room, no longer in use. Rina supposed that guests must come over to eat in the main dining room in the big house.

  It was oddly quiet, she thought. She wore soft-soled shoes and Tim ordinary trainers but even so their footsteps seemed to echo and she felt as though she was intruding on the building’s peace. Tim had no such qualms. He opened one of the doors and exclaimed in delight, “This must have been one of the cells.”

  Rina looked inside. A small but comfortable room with a single bed, a desk beneath a window and a bookcase. She stepped through the door and examined it with interest. On the back of the door was a notice talking about fire exits and instructions that guests ‘on retreat’ should be in their rooms by ten. So this religious house was still connected to its original purpose, she thought.

  Further on down the corridor was a larger door and according to the map this gave access to the library. Rina tried the handle and was pleased when it opened.

  “Oh, this is all right,” Tim said eagerly.

  Rina smiled at his enthusiasm. “If I leave you here, promise to set an alarm on your phone. If you’re late for the wedding Joy will never forgive you.”

  The ceiling rose to double height with skylights flooding the centre of the room with natural light. The books were shelved on two floors, a mezzanine running around all four sides of the room. Ladders attached to rails could be moved into position to access books on both levels. A few of the books were in closed glass cabinets but most were on open shelves and the guidebook invited guests to read but not to take the volumes from the room. Looking at the titles, mostly theology and philosophy, Rina wondered how many of these studies had been read since the religious community left. Had they left the library behind? Had it been restored since then? She wondered if the little guidebook would enlighten her or if she’d have to do a search online. The library seemed like a friendly place to be, furnished with deep chairs and handy tables, the odd lectern set up for the heavier tomes. She could see herself retreating here on a wet afternoon and settling in for the duration. Though she might have to bring her own book.

  But not today. Rina glanced at her watch. “We should get back,” she said. “We both have to change and get ready for the buffet lunch or the rest of the family will be sending out search parties.”

  “I doubt Eliza and Bethany are even conscious yet,” Tim said. “And I told Matthew and Stephen last night that we’d be off for an early morning constitutional, so they won’t be sounding the alarm just yet. You’re right though, time to don the suit, I suppose.”

  Rina patted his arm. “And admit it, Tim, you’re as curious as I am to see who else is coming to this wedding.” And particularly Mia Brewster, she thought; that was going to be interesting.

  They walked back the way they had come, out through the chapel and into the sunshine, across the path and narrow lawn that separated the monastic complex from the house. The ferry had just docked, disgorging the first of several wedding guests, including two very small girls dressed in pastel fairy costumes, complete with silvery wings.

  “How mucky are they going to be by the time the wedding starts,” Tim said, clearly amused.

  As they passed by, a young woman, clearly the mother of one little fairy, suggested she take the wings off so they wouldn’t get in the way. Not a hope, Rina guessed. The girls would probably want to sleep in them.

  She watched as the guests were shepherded by the house manager towards the gazebo and told where all the facilities were and invited to help themselves to drinks and snacks. She glanced at her watch again as the ferry pulled away to collect another tranche of guests already waiting on the other bank. The women brightly dressed in summer frocks, the men in a mix of lounge suits and casual jackets. She remembered the wording on the invitations that had instructed guests to wear what they liked and prepare to enjoy the day.

  There were now flowers in the foyer, the corners of the big square space filled with tall displays, the dining room had been furnished with drinks and snacks for anyone who wanted to get out of the sun. Hotel staff, and others she guessed were with the outside caterers, padded around with trays of glasses, others with wedding gifts ready to be stacked on a white-draped table in one of the side rooms.

  “Well,” Tim said, “when Joy and I tie the knot, I think we might just elope.”

  “Las Vegas,” Rina said. “Get yourselves married by Elvis and we’ll have a shindig in the village hall when you get back.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  It would probably be fine with Joy and her mother too, Rina thought. She could not help but think that this was all a tad political. A display of power and status and not just the joining of two people who Rina knew loved one another very much. The thought disturbed her.

  Turning onto the landing that led to her room Rina was surprised to find Fitch, clearly loitering with intent outside her door. “I saw you coming in,” he said. “Wondered if you’d got a minute.”

  “Of course.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside, noting with some amusement that Fitch glanced both ways as though checking they were unobserved before following her in. He flopped down in one of the easy chairs looking more like a man facing execution, she thought, than one about to be wed. “What’s wrong, is Bridie all right?”

  “Everyone’s fine and I wouldn’t bother you but I needed to talk to someone and I know I can rely on you to keep schtum.”

  Rina took the other chair. “Fitch, what’s going on here. I saw you last night with Charlie Brewster. It looked as though you were arguing with him.”

  “Not arguing exactly. Telling him where to get off. Thinks he’s entitled, does Charlie. Mia too for that matter. But I told him, Charlie, all that’s water under the bridge and Bridie don’t owe you nothing. She’s legit now, Brian makes sure everything he does is checked and double-checked by a proper lawyer, not one that’s in someone’s pocket like Charlie’s lot. I told him, Jimmy Duggan started his business any which way he could, just like Charlie’s dad and yes, for a while they were partners. But that didn’t last. Jimmy and Malcolm Brewster parted within a year or two, divvied it all up and each went their own way.”

  “I didn’t know they had an association,” Rina said.

  “Like I said, it was brief. Even Jimmy couldn’t be doing with Malc for long. Unpredictable, he was, manipulative. Treated people like . . . well anyway.”

  Interesting, Rina thought, especially considering Jimmy Duggan wasn’t known for his kid gloves. Except where his family was concerned. Duggan’s family was sacred. “And Charlie is now saying that Jimmy Duggan in some way cheated Malcolm Brewster?”

 

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