Chapter seven

A

s she stepped out of the changing rooms Charlotte was greeted by the sound of arms splashing their way through water. Not a huge fan of swimming, she knew it would be a great way to stay toned, as Louisa’s fit body confirmed. Her friend was a passionate swimmer and her trim shape was testament to the value of that passion. Ideally Charlotte would have preferred to swim in a warm sea with mask and flippers while admiring the brilliant colours of underwater creatures and coral reefs. Sighing, she accepted the beautifully designed indoor pool at La Folie would have to do for now and slid reluctantly into the warm water. After a while she was surprised to find it was almost enjoyable and managed twenty lengths before she climbed out, shrugged on her robe and flopped onto a lounger.

Picking a juice from the selection offered by the hovering waitress, she settled back feeling rather smug. Perhaps this exercise lark might not be too bad after all. She was determined to keep her slim figure after all the hard work of watching what she ate, and exercise had to play a part. As she sipped her juice Charlotte allowed her gaze to wander to the kitchen garden visible through the glazed walls. It had been barely established last time she was there but now massed rows of lush vegetables and herbs swayed gently in the warm breeze. Feeling content and soporific in the heated air of the pool, Charlotte’s heavy eyelids were drooping when Nadine appeared at her side.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss Townsend, but Jeanne Mauger has just phoned. She asked if you could call her back when you have a moment.’

‘Thanks, Nadine.’ Charlotte smiled as the receptionist departed. Wonder if this means she’s spoken to Andy? Hope so. She finished the last of her drink and stood up, nodded at a woman lying on a nearby lounger, and returned to the changing room for a shower. Keen to find out what Jeanne had to say, it wasn’t long before she was back in her room and reaching for the phone.

‘Hi Jeanne. Any news?’

‘Yes, Andy’s suggested you two meet to discuss things further. I warn you, he’s a bit unsure about involving a non-local so it’s not a done deal. You’ll have to turn on the charm,’ Jeanne said, laughing.

‘I’ll do my best,’ Charlotte replied, smiling to herself. Jeanne passed on Andy’s phone number and then excused herself as a baby’s wail echoed down the line. Charlotte was about to punch in Andy’s number when she was hit by her previous doubts. Was it really a good idea to meet Andy? The thought of the research made her tingle with anticipation – something to get stuck into, make her feel she was achieving something useful – but what about the man himself? Did she or didn’t she want to see him again? Telling herself it was irrelevant as he had hardly acknowledged her, she made the call and Andy suggested they meet at La Folie the next evening. No longer feeling sleepy, she changed into joggers and trainers and headed outside for a walk. Anything to stop her dwelling on whether or not she had made a mistake.

The next day dragged. Charlotte had booked a couple of therapy sessions in between her t’ai chi and yoga classes and although occupied, did not feel fully engaged with anything. A passive participant at best. But at least, she considered later that afternoon, her mind and body had received due pampering and she was pretty chilled out in preparation for meeting Andy. Glancing at her watch, she saw there was an hour to kill and returned to her room for her swimsuit. Forty-five minutes later she was showered and changed and waiting in the sun lounge. She spotted him hovering in the doorway and waved him over to the tucked away corner table. Wearing a navy T-shirt, a crumpled cream linen jacket and jeans, he attracted admiring glances as he strode towards her with an easy grace. Mm, looks as if he keeps fit. Not bad for a forty-year-old, she thought, reaching out to shake his proffered hand. She felt a frisson of electricity as their hands touched.

‘Hi Andy. Thanks for coming. Would you like a drink? They serve a brilliant selection of juices or you can indulge in a glass of something stronger.’

‘Juice is fine, thanks. I’ll have whatever you recommend,’ he said, offering a slight smile.

Charlotte noticed the smile did not reach his eyes and her heart sank. This was going to be tricky. Time for the charm offensive. She summoned up her brightest smile and suggested a Chef’s Special juice. The order placed it was time to talk business.

‘I understand from Jeanne you’re keen to discover what really happened to your grandfather and why the family’s been divided since. But I think you’re wary of me becoming involved as I’m not a local. Am I right?’ She tilted her head and opened her eyes wide.

Andy shifted in the chair.

‘Well, sort of. It’s a delicate matter, as I’m sure you appreciate. I need to be convinced of your sincerity and absolute discretion and, to be frank, I don’t know you.’ His eyes locked onto hers and Charlotte had to remind herself this was purely a job interview. Nothing more.

‘No, you don’t. Not yet. But Paul and Louisa do know me pretty well and am sure would be happy to vouch I’m both loyal and honourable. And as a publisher, I wouldn’t survive long if I was ever indiscreet.’

He leant back and smiled. Again it did not reach his eyes.

‘Point taken. The thing is my father and I are private people by nature. We don’t like the idea of washing our dirty linen in public and, in a small place like Guernsey, it’s very hard to avoid. If anything’s discovered which could damage our name further, then it must be kept quiet. My father has suffered enough,’ Andy said, a look of pain crossing his face.

‘Of course, I’d be the soul of discretion. But what puzzles me, Andy, is why you haven’t undertaken the research yourself? Keeping it in the family, as it were?’

‘Good question. Apart from the fact I’ve never had much free time to devote to it properly, I couldn’t risk my father finding out. It would be bound to get back to him if I was seen to be asking questions and researching archives. But the main stumbling block is the other family members wouldn’t talk to me. And, to be honest, Dad’s also made it clear he doesn’t want the past raked over. God knows why not, as he’s the one to have lost the most, what with his inheritance going to that…that reptilian uncle of his, Harold.’ His face tightened and Charlotte could see his struggle to stay calm.

‘I take it you don’t get on with Harold,’ she murmured.

Andy grunted. ‘It’s that obvious, is it? Harold’s the key to the whole sorry story. Ideally it would be great to ask him directly what happened but that’s never going to happen. We’d have to find a way of uncovering the truth some other way.’ He took a sip of his drink, then gave her a searching look. ‘How would you achieve that?’

She wasn’t encouraged by his manner, he certainly didn’t seem attracted to either her or her offer of help. But at least she could answer the question. ‘I’ve thought about it. As Jeanne’s novel is set in the occupation, she intended to talk to people with first-hand experience of living here at that time. I thought I could be her researcher, talking to people on her behalf. What do you think? Would it work?’

‘Hmm, should do. Old islanders love talking about the war. But it’s extremely unlikely Harold would talk to anyone; from what I’ve heard anything to do with the occupation is a taboo subject. And apparently my grandfather is never mentioned by his side of the family. It’s as if he never existed.’

Charlotte saw the tightening of his jaw. This was really a big deal for Andy; it looked as if Jeanne was right about the chip on his shoulder. But at least he was beginning to open up.

‘May I ask why it seems more important to find out the truth now? After all, it’s been a long time since…’ she said, spreading her hands.

Andy twiddled the glass in his hands and seemed to be debating what to answer. At last he said, ‘I’m concerned my parents are now struggling financially. Dad had to retire early thanks to his bad back and Mum only earns a pittance as a translator.’ Charlotte raised her eyebrows and he went on, ‘She’s French. Dad was brought up in France, where my grandmother fled after the Liberation. She had family in Normandy, you see, like quite a few locals. My parents were teenage sweethearts and married young. Once I was on the way Dad decided to come to Guernsey so I could be a local and take up my family heritage.’ Andy gave a bitter laugh. ‘Some heritage! I don’t know what happened when my parents arrived here, but Harold has never recognised Dad as part of the family and, more importantly, the rightful heir. And why would he? He’d have lost virtually everything.’

‘So your parents received nothing?’

Andy shook his head.

‘That doesn’t sound right. Can your father prove who he is?’

‘You mean he’s Edmund’s son?’

She nodded.

‘I don’t know. Don’t see why not. Apparently my grandmother didn’t know she was pregnant when Edmund was killed and she left Guernsey shortly after. So I guess it’s possible no-one here knew about the pregnancy when she left. But Dad’s birth certificate proves he was born less than nine months after his father died, so…’ He shrugged.

Now Charlotte was surprised to find herself angry on his behalf. ‘This is so unfair. Something doesn’t make sense and it sounds as if Jim’s been swindled out of his inheritance. I’d really like to help if you’d let me, Andy. We can’t let Harold get away with this!’

She felt herself flush as Andy stared at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Are you always so passionate about other people’s problems? Particularly when you don’t even know them?’

Charlotte, embarrassed, laughed. ‘Sorry! I did get rather carried away. But I do so hate it when there’s an injustice and I meant what I said about helping.’

‘In that case it would be churlish of me to refuse,’ he replied with a smile. Charlotte relaxed under his warmer gaze. This would be such a worthwhile project to keep her occupied. And not thinking of anything else…

He went on, ‘It’s not just about seeing my parents enjoy a comfortable retirement, I also want to stop my waste of space cousin inheriting everything when Harold finally shuffles off this mortal coil.’

‘Oh, so why’s your cousin the heir and not his father? And what’s so bad about him?’ Charlotte leaned forward, beginning to be fascinated by the unfolding story.

‘My uncle Stanley, Harold’s only child, died years ago of cancer, leaving a son, Dave. He was a teenager at the time and went even more off the rails than before and has been in trouble with the police more times than I can count. And he’s the Batiste who will inherit what should be my father’s!’ Andy virtually spat out the words.

After he had left Charlotte returned to her room to mull over what had been discussed. Grabbing a notebook she jotted down the main points. While a guest at the centre she had no intention of undertaking any research, as she had agreed with Paul, but wanted to be clear about where to start once she left. As she wrote, her thoughts kept straying to Andy. He was rather delicious, she decided. But she wasn’t ready for a relationship. She simply had to sort herself out first. And although he had thawed a little towards the end, he had not showed any interest in her as a woman. Only as a researcher. Tapping her pen against her lips she gazed out of the window towards the cliffs and the sea beyond. A wind had built up during the day and now white caps topped the waves, adding melodrama to the scene. Mesmerised, Charlotte thought it was a shame she couldn’t stay at La Folie until the research was finished. Reminding herself to ask Louisa if she could recommend a hotel, Charlotte glanced at her watch and saw it was time for dinner. After a quick freshen-up she headed downstairs in anticipation of the delights Chef had planned for the guests.

She was crossing the hallway when Louisa appeared from the office, her face ghostlike.

‘Louisa, whatever’s the matter?’ Charlotte cried, rushing toward her.

Her friend’s face crumpled as she fell into her outstretched arms.

‘It’s – it’s my father. I’ve just been on the phone to Glenn who’d been trying to track him down.’ Tears soaked onto Charlotte’s shoulder as Louisa went on, ‘He should have left Bali a week ago and flown to Japan but didn’t catch the flight. And – and Glenn’s contacted the Bali hotel and Dad checked out as planned but – but hasn’t been seen since!’