Trap Lane Read online

  ‘Go to hell, Neve!’

  Alex flinched and held her breath.

  ‘Take a room here,’ Hugh said. ‘I don’t care. You’ll do what you want to anyway. Just stay out of my way.’

  TWO

  A single rider, a thin, hunched, weather-beaten man astride a broad and glossy Welsh cob, clipped downhill toward her, swaying comfortably in his saddle. He tipped his tweed cap with a crop at Alex but made no effort to move aside for her Range Rover. Neither did his smug and bouncing Jack Russell terrier.

  ‘Afternoon, Alex,’ Chuck Short called. He smiled and his nut-brown face creased into deep wrinkles. Chuck managed the Derwinter stables. ‘It’ll be evenin’ afore long. It’s getting late to start on an outing. You’re off your beaten track today.’ Leonard and Heather Derwinter’s estate covered hundreds of lush acres beyond the Dimple – a shallow valley at the top of the hill that looked down on Folly-on-Weir. Tony Harrison and Alex both owned houses in the Dimple but Alex now lived with Tony and her house was about to go up for sale.

  Chuck must have cut across country from the Derwinters’ but Alex had never ventured that way in years. Local people tended to keep away from the big estate but she was sure the walkers who invaded the area in weather like this didn’t have such scruples.

  Pulled as far into the hedgerow as possible on a steep lane she rarely used, Alex leaned out of her window. ‘I’m going up to visit Radhika. She works for Tony Harrison at the vet clinic in Folly. She’s his assistant. Should have gone to look at her new house weeks ago but you know how that is.’

  ‘Aye. I know who she is, too. We’re too busy for what’s really important sometimes. She’s a pretty thing. Nice, too. Cozy with that detective, isn’t she?’

  There were few secrets in country communities. ‘Bill Lamb? Yes, you might say that. How are things at the Derwinters? I haven’t seen Heather for weeks. That’s unusual.’ The lovely Mrs Derwinter liked to make splashes in the village of Folly-on-Weir and was almost a regular at the Black Dog, but not recently.

  Chuck gave another of his puckish grins. ‘I expect she’s been busy, too,’ he said and urged his horse on. ‘There’s only the two houses up here. Your Hugh Rhys owns that Green Friday place, so Radhika must have bought the old manor house. Small as far as those places go, but a bit pricey for a vet tech anyway, I should have thought. It’ll take a fair bit to fix it up.’ He waved goodbye without turning in the saddle.

  Smiling to herself, Alex drove back into the lane, her wheels bumping over ruts dried by weeks of sunshine. The sun was going down, turning clear blue skies to dusky mauve. The colors of wild flowers along the verges still popped. After a tense day at the Black Dog, she was glad to escape for a while.

  A long time had passed since she’d come this way even though the road below the lane passed both her own house and Tony’s.

  Local people continued to assume Radhika was dependent on her salary from Tony. Just as well, even if it did make them wonder how she could buy the old house that Alex understood was rapidly being renovated.

  Radhika’s finances were nobody’s business but her own – even if Alex did know about the fortune she’d been left by a friend who had treasured her.

  At the entrance to Green Friday, Alex slowed to peer down the long driveway guarded by handsome sycamore trees. A beautiful place, Hugh must consider it a fine investment, but he’d never lived there or even spent a night under its roof as far as she knew. He did rent it if approached by friends. She hadn’t been inside it for some time, but it had looked perfect to her, certainly not as if it needed the work Hugh had referred to that morning.

  The last time Alex had been at Green Friday was something she tried hard not to remember.

  The sight of Hugh’s distinctive 1939 BMW Nash – navy-blue and white – parked on the right edge of the driveway surprised her. The car faced out only a short distance from the impressive stone pillars on either side of the entrance gates. The back of the man himself striding toward the house, which she couldn’t see from the lane, almost stopped her but she drove on, frowning and wondering why he was there. The pub would be open and he never left the premises during business hours. Not without letting her know, although he didn’t have to, not when he would have covered for himself anyway.

  He’d been very quiet all day, even for him. Alex’s mother, Lily, had settled Neve Rhys into a room at the Black Dog and she hadn’t put in another appearance.

  A bit further on and Alex saw the slate roofs and grey stone chimneys of Radhika’s new home.

  She stopped the Range Rover again and idled the engine. In the rearview mirror she saw nothing but the empty, hedge-lined lane and a rapidly falling mauve dusk turning to purple.

  Hugh was a mostly solitary man. All she knew about his purchase of a big house on this hill was that he’d come upon it soon after taking the job at the Black Dog – on one of his hikes – and fallen in love with the place. In addition, he now owned some good parcels of the still unimproved surrounding land and continued to ramble there. If he had plans for development he had not mentioned them and Alex would never pry into his private affairs.

  Perhaps she should go back and make sure all was well with Hugh.

  Prickling cold climbed her spine, echoed on the sides of her face. That made twice in the same day and she hated it.

  Movement brought her eyes back to the mirror, but it was only a rabbit bounding up the lane behind her.

  Hugh was a big boy and she was being a touchy idiot.

  But the insistent cold fingers didn’t stop fondling her skin.

  Hugh spared only brief glances for the fine golden Cotswold stone façade of Green Friday, or the pyracantha, massed with white flowers, climbing the walls. The tennis courts must need tending and he had no idea about the condition of the swimming pool behind the building. He had come to hate this house. It needed to be sold, or he usually thought it did until he considered having to involve himself with the place again.

  The door was unlocked, just as Sonia had said it would be. Hugh let himself in and made sure a good slam would let her know he was there. She wasn’t supposed to come near him ever again. He’d warned her he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions if she did. She’d called him an hour ago and he had immediately concluded that Neve must have known where Sonia was although he couldn’t decide why she wouldn’t have told him when she went so far as to ask to stay at the house. He hadn’t attempted to challenge her and ask what she was up to, but he wanted to.

  He detested the thought of Neve being at the Black Dog, of her sleeping in a room so close to his quarters.

  Sonia Quillam had stayed away for a long time but as always, her absolute conviction that no man could remain angry with her had worked its way to the surface again. Her gall in coming here and using a key she should not have infuriated him. She must have kept a key from when she and her family rented Green Friday for a summer. What a disaster that had been.

  He heard the sound of her signature backless heels clacking on the stone tiled kitchen floors. The sound carried through the still house like the striking of keys on an ancient typewriter.

  It would be a bad idea to confront her without tamping down his anger. She was selfish, vain, sexually obsessed … sexy and magnetic. Sonia had made his life hell on too many occasions and whatever she wanted from him now wasn’t happening. Hugh took several deep breaths. The silence that fell in the kitchen was not lost on him.

  Sonia was waiting for him, arranging herself to best advantage.

  The house felt empty. He walked past the curving staircase and unused rooms he hadn’t seen since after what he thought of as, The Horror. Gathering dusk through bow windows above drawn draperies turned furnishings cloaked in sheets into shaded memories. Nothing had been changed. Even thinking of coming here to consider making the place over was repugnant.

  His pace slowed. He could feel her listening for him, almost hear her breathing – short breaths that caught as she prepared to spin the next lies
.

  He opened the kitchen door.

  ‘There you are!’ Her full voice came at him, fulsome, but squeezed and girlish to gain whatever impression she wanted to give. ‘I started to think you wouldn’t come. Oh, Hugh. I’ve missed you so.’

  She spread her arms and came toward him, her body as lush as he remembered – all too well – visible inside a near transparent flowered kaftan zipped from hem to between her breasts. She was obviously naked beneath the flimsy material.

  Hugh turned away. ‘You aren’t supposed to be here.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like that,’ she said, her voice husky now. ‘I’ve had terrible times and you know it. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t know you were the only real friend I’ve ever had. You’re the only friend who has been there for me through good times and bad, whether I made mistakes or not. And I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes.’

  ‘Haven’t we all?’ He didn’t trust himself to look at her again. ‘I suppose you kept a key to Green Friday. That doesn’t surprise me, but yet again … no, you couldn’t disappoint me. You don’t do anything without calculating how it might benefit you. I don’t want to know about your dramas, Sonia, but I do want you to leave. Stay the night and go in the morning.’

  ‘It’s Elyan, Hugh. Our son is incarcerated with mad people. A brilliant musician shut away and forgotten. I can’t bear it, not alone as I have been. Each time I see him it breaks my heart again.’

  Slowly, he faced her. Beautiful, olive-skinned and golden-eyed with rust-blond hair that curled down her back, she didn’t need to display a knockout figure as she did tonight. The tearful shine in her eyes, the trembling droop of her full lips, revolted him. ‘Liar,’ he said, clenching his fists at his sides. ‘You haven’t seen him. Not once.’

  Her mouth sagged, then drew taught. ‘How would you know? You won’t even acknowledge him.’

  ‘Elyan is not my son, but I am his friend. I see him regularly. He plays the piano in that place every day, did you know that? An old, upright piano. And he gives lessons to other so-called patients. He’s finding peace even as he confronts what he became. He never mentions the fabulous career he lost – only the sister who is gone forever and the woman whose life was snuffed out. And he doesn’t make excuses, even if we know he wasn’t in his right mind.’

  Sonia rocked on her flimsy shoes and shook her head in denial. ‘Hold me, Hugh. I’m desperate. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone. Take me to bed. Please, darling.’

  For just an instant he felt protective, sorry for her. Just an instant. ‘I don’t know why you wanted me to come here but it doesn’t matter,’ he told her. ‘You told Neve I was here in Folly. How did that happen?’

  ‘She’s been nice to me,’ Sonia mumbled, wrapping her arms around her small ribcage. ‘When she asked, I told her. What was wrong with that? We keep in touch – not all the time, but now and then. She called me in Paris – from Scotland – and said she needed to contact you. You make it so hard for people, Hugh. Why do you hate your own family?’

  ‘And you just decided you ought to pester me in Folly, too?’ He extended a hand, warning her not to mess with him. ‘Forget I asked. I don’t care. You’re out of here.’

  He’d already had enough. Neve must leave Folly. As usual she had engineered an encounter for some devious reason of her own, and Perry’s. ‘I have a job and I have to get back.’

  ‘No!’ She ran at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘For our son’s sake I beg you to help me. I’m alone and I don’t know what to do.’

  Hugh patted Sonia’s back as if she were a child. ‘Calm down. I take it Percy Quillam is playing the field again. You shouldn’t be surprised. That’s how you got into your husband’s life in the first place. As the mistress of a married man. That’s how you got him to marry you. He always played the field and I don’t know why you thought you could make him monogamous. Sonia, you’re beautiful and talented. You have a voice others only long for. Go back to your career. Sing and build again. You can do it. And we both know, regardless of how much you want to use him as a connection to me, Elyan isn’t my son although I wouldn’t have minded if he were. I don’t know why you came or what you thought you could accomplish here, but it isn’t going to work. A DNA examination proved Elyan isn’t mine.’

  ‘Percy hates me – he’s in Paris conducting – and his beloved agent, Wells, is with him of course.’ She reared back, her eyes glittering with tears. ‘I’m just his showpiece, someone he likes on his arm. He’s punished me for my supposed sins by trying to chain me to him. I came because I need you. Isn’t that enough? It used to be.’

  ‘We are history, Sonia.’

  ‘But, Elyan—’

  ‘Isn’t my son and you know it. Why do you persist? And you haven’t visited him since he was sent away. Not once. What excuse do you have for that?’

  She cried, loudly, swiping at tears with both hands. ‘I couldn’t bear to go there and see him like that.’

  ‘Your husband goes,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s the father. But it’s you Elyan wants to see. Sebastian Carstens, faithful piano teacher, still goes. Annie Bell also goes – as often as they’ll let her. She still loves him and waits for him, even if it must seem hopeless. I’ve got to go now.’

  THREE

  ‘Hugh will come back to me,’ Sonia said to herself, fumbling her way across the bedroom to the bathroom. She had changed into black velvet trousers and an orange silk tunic. ‘He wanted to stay with me; I know he did. So stupid. Too proud to give in. But he will.’

  She splashed cold water on her face and let it drip onto her tunic. Lights only made this damned house feel bigger and emptier. Barefoot and in near darkness, she stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen.

  Low lights beneath the glass-fronted cabinets gave a pale glow that reflected across etchings of grasses swept by wind. Sonia hated those greenish glass doors with their soundless wind and wildness. Even the Aga and dark green appliances made her sick.

  The front door knocker, dropped once, sent its iron-hard sound echoing through the house. Sonia barely breathed, then she ran to answer, her heart pounding. She had known he would regret trying to leave her.

  The heavy door swung wide under her urgent wrench.

  ‘Hello, Sonia.’

  Annie? Annie Bell – Elyan’s Annie?

  ‘I don’t blame you for being surprised,’ Annie said. ‘It’s been a long time. I had to see you. I came to Folly a few days ago and I’ve been hanging around trying to get up the courage to come.’

  ‘Come in.’ Sonia stepped back and the girl passed her.

  The hair was as thick, curly and shiny auburn as she remembered. Dark, searching eyes. Annie was lovely and Sonia wished her somewhere far from here – now.

  She stopped opposite the drawing room. ‘Everything is still covered,’ she said of the draped furnishings. ‘I thought you’d been here for days.’

  ‘Not many,’ Sonia said. She hadn’t disliked Annie but then, why should she have been particularly interested in her. Elyan had announced their engagement but Sonia had been certain nothing would come of that. Ridiculously unsuitable.

  ‘I’m sorry to drop in on you,’ Annie said, ‘but the house phone isn’t working and I don’t know your mobile number.’ She smiled, a tremble of her bottom lip betraying just how nervous she was. Her left hand went to her hair and the ring Elyan had given her still shone on her finger.

  ‘How did you know I was here?’ Sonia asked.

  Annie looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to say. It doesn’t really matter, does it?’

  Sonia liked to know all the players in any game, but she said, ‘Of course not. How lovely to see you. It’s been too long.’ Until she knew what was at stake here, she would play her hand carefully. ‘Let’s sit in the drawing room. It’s time I pulled off some of the sheets.’

  She pulled off the covers from two chairs and indicated for Annie to sit. The girl was more attractive than she’d rem
embered. Slender but feminine, her face paler than it should be, the freckles more pronounced than she remembered.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Sonia asked. She’d drunk too much wine and keeping her voice steady took an effort.

  ‘Nothing, thank you. I don’t want to take up much of your time.’ Annie sat in an ivory brocade chair and Sonia took the other one she had stripped of its cover.

  A thud reverberated in the near silence and Annie swiveled in her chair to look out into the hall. ‘That came from the dining room or the kitchen.’

  Sonia struggled to her feet and started forward.

  ‘Did you close the front door?’ Annie asked, getting up and passing Sonia before she could get far. ‘No, that’s it.’ She disappeared into the hall and Sonia heard the door shut with a hollow bang.

  Annie returned, smiling slightly.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Sonia asked, afraid her speech was slurred.

  ‘I was just thinking that this isn’t an easy house for either of us. Who can blame us for being jumpy. The front door wasn’t completely closed. A breeze must have shut a door somewhere else. I would love to talk to you, Sonia. I think it’s about something we’re both concerned with.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Sonia wanted, more than anything, to think about what she should do next. Hugh was her main concern – and that other diversion she was considering.

  ‘I see Elyan regularly,’ Annie said. ‘He’s brave, but his life is so hard. He accepts that he brought what’s happened upon himself, but he’s changed so much since he’s been at Ashworth. It isn’t easy for him there, you know.’

  Sonia propped a fist under her chin. ‘It’s out of my hands. I can’t stand the thought of him in that place. I don’t understand what they say happened.’ She raised her face. ‘I’ve never believed that brilliant, gentle boy could do anyone harm.’

  The buzzing in her head sickened Sonia. She put a hand over her eyes.