Page 19 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
Ali was right, Mungo thought. Atticushadperked up in the last few weeks, even joining the family for meals and sitting next to Jake to discuss engines and the internet. Instead of spending hours on the fells each day, Atticus now rose early to disappear into the barn to work on Winnie, only appearing for a brisk walk with Ness.
‘Have you asked him what he will do with the camper?’ Ali asked.
‘He says he will probably give it to Jake in time. Before that, he needs to check that it runs well and is in good working order.’
‘I expect Jake will take a gapyear and set off as soon as he passes his driving test. A vehicle like that will be irresistible for a young person.’
‘Not a chance,’ Mungo scoffed. ‘Jake’s grades are terrible, and he has his education to finish. It’s hard enough getting him to study without his grandad distracting him.’
Mungo turned from the window and went back to his desk. Turning to his laptop, he studied the screen. ‘Let’s crack on,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a business to run, and unless I keep on top of everything, it will soon be running me.’
Five hundred miles away, across the Irish Sea, Mary stood in the utility room at Belvedere House and stared at her washing machine. Leaning on a granite countertop, her eyes fixated on the colourful garments that danced behind the glass window. A pile of soiled clothes lay at her feet, waiting to be sorted. The mundane chore of laundry had, for the moment, ceased, as Mary found herself in a trance, watching the machine’s back-and-forth motion.
In her hand, she clutched a cotton Oxford shirt.
Mary slowly raised the shirt to her nose, catching a trace of Conor’s aftershave on the fabric. But overpowering that scent was something much stronger – a potent aroma of patchouli, vanilla, and caramel.Angel by Thierry Mugler. A memorable perfume that Mary recognised from lingering traces in the changing room at Kindale Golf and Wellness Retreat and at the table where she dined each week at the Ladies’ Lunch Club. Choosing the much lighter, floral tones of Dior Diorissimo for herself,Mary knew of only one woman in her circle who wore that identifiable scent.
Lucinda Darby. Conor’s business rival.
Darby Auctioneers, a family concern, had been handed down to Lucinda, the only child, following her inheritance, and she continued to run it to this day. Intelligent, witty, rake-thin, and stunningly beautiful, Lucinda was twice divorced and went through lovers quicker than the blink of an eye.
Surely not!
Mary gripped the shirt and willed herself to ignore the scent, but her mind was whirring.
No wonder Conor hadn’t wanted to join his family on their holiday!
She remembered his words as he stood on the steps of Belvedere House, waving his family goodbye as they set off for Cumbria.
‘Happiness to me is having my large, loving, and close-knit family in another country for the summer holidays,’ Conor had said.
Mary thought he was being playful, joking about his family demands when his summer workload was heavy. Now, Mary imagined Lucinda pressing herself against Conor.
She must be mistaken! Conor couldn’t possibly be having an affair.
Questions flooded her mind, and Mary remembered the umpteen times she’d tried to call him during the holiday, speaking only infrequently. Conor had assured Marythat business was taking up every moment of his time, and he was exhausted by the time he fell into bed.
No wonder he was exhausted if he was falling into bed with bloody Lucinda Darby!
How could he?
Why would he?
At the Ladies’ Lunch Club, Lucinda often joked that she insisted husbands and lovers be precluded by written formalities from any part of her business or wealth. Mary thought of the property Lucinda called home. Palatial and sprawling, Creek House was situated on the banks of the Brandon River, which ran into the estuary in Kindale. For as long as she’d known him, Conor repeatedly said that he’d give anything to own such an estate. With indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a stunning topiary garden, salmon fishing rights, and gorgeous grounds, it was highly sought after. Once belonging to a celebrity chef, Lucinda had pipped Conor to the post and purchased the property. She’d snapped it up for a pittance when the chef was going through yet another insolvency.
Had Conor lost his heart – and his mind – in pursuit of Creek House Estate?
Mary’s stomach clenched in a gut-wrenching sensation as the reality of her husband’s possible betrayal sank in. The faces of their four beautiful children swam in her mind. She had to be mistaken. Conor loved his kids, and she was certain he loved her, too.
Taking a deep breath, Mary released it slowly, willing herself to become composed. She thrust Conor’s shirt to one side. She must have time to thinkbefore she endangered her world and shattered it into a million irreparable pieces.
The washing machine had completed its cycle. Opening the door, Mary removed the clean contents and placed them into the tumble dryer. Leaning down, she gathered the soiled clothes, grabbed Conor’s shirt, and thrust it in too. Flicking the dial, Mary set it to a hot wash.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she angrily told herself. ‘There has to be an explanation.’
A furrow creased her brow, and Mary’s mind was a whirlwind as she took a last glance at the shirt being tossed in the machine.
If only her thoughts could so easily be washed clean.
