The Summer Without You

‘Oh well. It’s all clear now, isn’t it?’ Hump said laconically, as they chugged up a carriage drive that had been designed for sweeping up only.

‘Absolutely. Thank God you were able to help him out,’ Ro murmured back, staring up at the old colonial-style ivy-covered mansion, two floors of arched windows centred with a portico, hatted with a slate roof that was the same depth as the walls, with dormers and four tall chimneys that acted like sirens – intended to be seen from a distance or from the air – heralding the incredibly grand fireplaces within.

Hump stopped in the queue for the valets and looked across at her. ‘Todd so didn’t want Greg sleeping under the same roof as his girlfriend.’

They reached the front of the valet queue, just beyond the front steps, and Hump handed over the keys as one of the other valets moved to open Ro’s door. ‘It’s OK – I’ll help her down,’ Hump said quickly, running round to Ro’s side. The combination of a tight dress and a high car wasn’t a good one, and short of hiking her dress up round her waist, she couldn’t get in or out without assistance. He put his hands round her waist and lifted her down, a grin on his face. ‘Trust me, you’re going to need some protection tonight in that dress.’

He laughed as he saw her expression change, Ro more worried by the compliment than flattered – there was nothing subtle about her figure, and if her teenage years had taught her one thing, it was that men lost their senses in her skintight and upholstered presence. She nervously smoothed the cherry-red sequins of her dress. It was all she had to wear that remotely fit the brief, but judging by the turn-of-the-century house, she had a feeling the women here would be wafting around in old-rose chiffons and nude silks and wearing white kid gloves.

Hump held out his arm for her and she slipped her hand through, hugging him gratefully as they walked along the grassy garden path. ‘We should have just gone to the Surf Lodge,’ she mumbled, as they passed white-jacketed waiters holding gleaming silver trays. She loved their Saturday nights, dancing barefoot in the sand.

‘Agreed,’ Hump mumbled back, no more comfortable at these grand occasions than she. ‘We still could. We could duck out of here before anyone sees us.’

‘Yeah, but there’ll be hundreds of people here tonight. He’ll never know if we—’ They came round to the terrace. ‘Oh crap.’

It was perfect. Majestic oaks ran down the length of an enormous five-acre lawn, each blade so immaculate it would have made Wimbledon’s groundsmen weep. Deep, Andrew Jackson Downing-designed beds led back to mossy brick walls that opened up suddenly to archways cut through ancient domed yews, grassy paths behind curving round to private nooks that framed bronze sculptures. But it was the ocean that was the centrepiece, the perfect stretch of deep blue accessed first by a strip of pure white sand that – unlike Florence’s wild, grassy horizon – looked like it had been combed.

Ro didn’t approve – far from it – but at least it was now obvious why Erin had chosen Todd over Greg. Hump had told her during one of their evening seed-bombing walks that Todd was the elder twin to David by three minutes. That three minutes meant all this was going to be his one day. That three minutes meant he got the house and the girl. If he’d been the younger twin, things would have been different – for his brother and probably for Greg.

They walked slowly down the steps, Ro holding on to Hump’s arm and keeping her eyes down as usual. Normally she felt underdressed; today she felt overdressed – would she ever get it right? The tenor of this dress was wrong and she was going to stand out like a geranium in a bowl of white roses tonight.

At least the grass was firm beneath her feet – a small mercy, as she found it difficult enough walking in heels, even wedges; she and Hump had had to make a pact before leaving that he wouldn’t wear flip-flops if she wouldn’t wear trainers.

Hump retrieved two glasses of pink champagne, both of them looking around discreetly for Greg. Ro saw Erin first. She was standing with a small group of couples, wearing a mocha-coloured chiffon number that cascaded down her tiny frame in stepped tiers, bronze pearls at her ears and on one wrist. She was listening intently to another woman talking, her head nodding ever so slightly, her eyes sliding over the woman’s shoulder every few seconds, checking the new arrivals on the terrace. Ro watched as she graciously placed a hand lightly on the woman’s arm, stopping her mid-flow and excusing herself to greet a couple coming down the steps; Ro realized she and Hump had been ‘allowed’ past without a special greeting.

‘So what’s this in aid of, anyway?’ Ro asked, tearing her eyes away – reminding herself of her own, actual victory over Erin – and looking out to sea.

‘Who knows? There’s one a week in this lane alone. It’s hard to keep up.’

‘Why’s it called Gin Lane? Because the bored, spoilt women in these houses pour it on their cornflakes?’

Hump laughed. ‘Probably. This is the pinnacle, baby. Old-school WASP. Anything goes here. They’ve seen it and done it all.’

Ro let her eyes roam the crowd. There was enough space here for her not to feel overwhelmed by the proximity of strangers, although it wasn’t a stranger who made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and he was looking straight back at her.

‘Well, well, I see Long Story’s here,’ Hump drawled, noticing as she turned away with a start and following the line of her sight. ‘I thought you two were friends now.’

‘We . . . we’re not. I mean, we were never friends. He’s a client.’ The truth was, she didn’t know what he was anymore – he had been at various times her enemy, her client, her hero, her suspect. He was still that, even if he did look good in a dinner suit.

Her eyes fell to his hand, intertwined with Julianne’s: a casually protective, reassuring, loving gesture, one that belonged to the man on the videos. How could that same hand belong to a man capable of manipulating – possibly defrauding – her friend? Then again, she thought, as a waiter approached their group with fresh drinks, didn’t the titanic fortunes required to fund estates like this almost invariably require crossing lines of one sort or another? Was he one among many tonight?

‘She’s not his wife. Well, not his first one, anyway,’ Ro snapped, her eyes flitting over to Julianne, who was looking elegant and discreet in an ivory satin dress that stopped mid-thigh, the hint of breeze making it cling to her revealingly and showing off a lean physique Ro hadn’t even had as an eight-year-old.

Ted nodded by way of greeting to them both across the lawn and Ro nodded back. The last time she’d spoken to him had been at the Fourth of July party. Things had been cordial back then; she had still been in the dark about his actions around Florence at that point, and she couldn’t afford to alert him to her new suspicions. Not yet. But why had he been invited? Who did he know here? Was it Todd? Was it Erin?

She bet it was Erin. They looked like they should know each other; they probably went way back. She could just imagine the two of them growing up together, playing state-level tennis at the Maidstone’s perfect courts before sipping chilled cocktails overlooking the ocean. Maybe they had dated each other. Probably long ago lost their virginities to each other and been the prom king and queen thingies.

Ro turned back to him, remembering suddenly Bobbi’s words this morning. A smile flickered on her lips. ‘I’ll tell you what’s a long story, Hump. The one Bobbi told me this morning. She thinks you’re seeing someone.’ She jabbed his chest lightly with her finger.

‘Yeah. Bobbi reckons you lied to her this morning, but I know you wouldn’t lie to me.’ She grinned, holding him with her eyes, determined to leave him nowhere to hide.

‘I never could, nor never would lie to you,’ he replied earnestly, slapping a hand over his heart by way of oath.

She laughed – certain now that Bobbi was right – just as Greg made his way over, his eyes alive with delight. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ he beamed genuinely, kissing her on each cheek and gripping Hump’s hand firmly, one hand on his shoulder. He looked so handsome in his dinner suit. Ro felt a rush of pride to be connected with him, even if it was just for a summer.

‘Dude, why didn’t you say something before? No wonder you’ve been running back to Sea Spray Cottage at every given moment!’ Hump remarked drily. ‘I mean, what a dump!’

Greg laughed, a strong, exuberant sound that made women turn. ‘I know. Just keeping it real.’

‘Lungworm.’ He held up his hands. ‘Not the fashionable choice, I grant you, but there needs to be more awareness of it. Erin lost her schnauzer to it last year, so it’s a cause very close to her heart.’

Ro and Hump’s eyes met, both of them clearly wanting to laugh, both of them clearly itching to ask, And are you?

‘Mmm-hmm. It gives people a chance to explore the grounds and she thought it would be more exciting than the usual, y’know, silent auction or –’ he shrugged ‘– Rihanna playing a set.’

‘Oh, thank God you said that,’ Ro deadpanned, amused by this clique’s ennui. ‘It’s beyond tedious. I, personally, would drop down dead if I had to endure another private performance by her.’

Greg’s eye was caught by someone over their shoulders – Erin probably – and he held up a hand to indicate he’d be right with them.

‘So what do we have to do?’ Hump asked, straightening up, remembering his manners.

‘Well, I give you one of these,’ Greg said, handing them each an envelope from the pile in his hand. ‘The clues are in there. You’re looking for a quarter-mill Harry Winston diamond bracelet. It’s hidden somewhere in the gardens.’

‘Behave yourself!’ Ro burst out, making several people nearby turn round. A quarter of a million dollars’ worth of diamonds? Hidden in the shrubs?

Hump was more circumspect, for once. This wasn’t his first time at one of these events. ‘And what’s the buy-in?’

‘Twenty-five grand?’ Ro echoed, shocked. She turned to whisper to Hump, ‘What, is that just to play?’

Her jaw dropped. Hump handed back the envelope, but Greg pushed it towards him again. ‘No. Do it – it’s fun. No one’ll know . . . Just don’t win!’

‘I need to circulate and hand these out to the people who’ve signed up, but I’ll catch you later, OK?’ Greg winked, wandering off.

‘Sure thing,’ Hump nodded, eagerly opening the envelope and pulling out a glossy postcard showing a headless winged figure. ‘Oh great,’ he groaned. ‘Good start. Should’ve known it’d all be about showing off their expensive educations.’

‘No, wait – I’ve seen that statue,’ Ro said excitedly. ‘In the flesh, or rather, in the marble. It’s in the Louvre.’

‘You’ve got me there. I was there on a school trip – I spent most of my time snogging French boys by the vending machines.’

‘Well, given that we’re technically not part of this game, I don’t think anyone will care, do you?’

‘Guess not . . .’ She peered over, resting her chin on his shoulder – one advantage of wearing heels. ‘What’s it say?’

‘Something to do with the Goddess of Victory . . . It’s supposed to commemorate some naval victory?’

‘Hmph. Means nothing to me,’ Ro mumbled. ‘Let’s walk. Maybe we’ll see something that makes sense of it.’

They began walking towards the main path to the left that led off the lawn. It seemed the most natural place to start.

‘Gimme a chance. I am dredging my brain for archived useless knowledge.’ She went quiet as she remembered the clip of film where Marina was in labour and their joke about dredging her pelvis. Four short years ago, and now she was out of sight and her husband had some dolly on his arm with God-only-knows-what plans up his sleeve. She shook her head like a spaniel, throwing Ted Connor straight back out of her thoughts.

It felt good in the shade; the evening sun still had impressive warmth in it and Ro felt overheated in her dress, tiny as it was. They followed the narrow paths that meandered among old fruit trees, passing other couples who were also walking slowly with cream envelopes and pink champagne in their hands. They kept their eyes on low-hanging branches and peering through longer flowers, looking for a hint of gold, a wink of a diamond. They found themselves walking towards a sculpture of a globe worked from bronze bars like a cage, with an arrow shot through the middle of it.

‘Any idea?’ Ro frowned, staring up at it. ‘It doesn’t look very naval.’

‘No. But it’s nice to see the Great and Mighty can be as messy and disorganized as the rest of us,’ Hump grinned, pointing towards a stray white tennis shoe peeking out of the far flowerbed.

Ro stared at it. ‘Hang on a sec . . .’ She didn’t think for one moment that that shoe was there accidentally. Ro had met enough Type-A brides to know Erin wouldn’t have let anything as imperfect as a lost shoe mess with her manicured landscape. ‘Isn’t the Goddess of Victory in Greek . . . ? Isn’t it Nike?’

‘You know that?’ Hump’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Goddam, Ro, I think you really might be my dream woman.’

‘Well, I might be talking complete tosh. You’d better check. Is it a Nike trainer? I bet it isn’t. It’s probably Adidas or something.’

Hump retrieved it, looking back at her with an amazed and impressed smile. He held up the tennis shoe so she could see the black tick along the side. She jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, but Hump’s eyes almost jumped out of his head at the sight of her and she quickly stopped again.

Ro shrugged and put in her hand. As she’d suspected, it wasn’t sweaty or smelly. No doubt Erin’s feet were rose-scented and soft as cashmere cushions. She pulled out the small, folded piece of blue writing paper that had been pushed into the toe.

‘Tada!’ she cried, her smile fading as she remembered how that had been Ella’s first word. For heaven’s sake, this was getting ridiculous! That family had taken lodgings in her head.

I am the key to let you in,

What you need for this game to begin.

So hurry, make haste –

It’s emergency.

Come and find me so that I can go free.

‘Helpful, not,’ Ro muttered, pushing the clue back in the shoe and turning round in a circle. ‘Well, at the very least I would assume we continue down this path rather than doubling back on ourselves.’ She pointed towards the shaded path that she suspected was leading them towards the ocean as Hump replaced the shoe in the flowerbed.

‘Come along, then,’ Hump said, taking her by the hand again and pulling her along. ‘Sounds like we need to look out for a key.’

They sauntered along slowly, enjoying the breeze that had picked up in strength a little. Ro closed her eyes and shook her head lightly, enjoyed the feeling of it against her bare neck now that her hair was jaw-length and no longer clung like a scarf round her at all times.

‘How can you look if you’re walking along with your eyes closed?’ She opened them to find Hump grinning at her. ‘We’ve got a competition to win, remember. You’re the brains in this outfit.’

‘Not in this outfit I’m not,’ she quipped, her eyes flicking down to her showgirl dress. ‘I feel like I dropped thirty IQ points between here and the shower.’

‘We’re not going to win the bracelet. We’re just going to take quiet satisfaction in knowing that we beat everyone else and found it first.’

Beyond the beds, on the other side of the crumbly wall, they heard a silky voice over a PA system, asking for everyone’s attention.

‘Sounds like Erin’s in da house. Think we should go back and listen?’ Hump asked, jerking his thumb towards the path they’d been walking down.

‘What, and lose our lead? You’ve got to be joking! Besides, what’s she really got to say that we need to listen to anyway? She’s only going to be thanking all her rich mates for paying twenty-five grand each to play in the garden. I’d rather not if it’s all the same.’

‘Oh look, pretty,’ she said, pointing out an old, weathered dovecote set high against a crumbling brick wall that appeared to be mainly held up by pride and thick ivy. Two pure white faces peered out of two of the round holes. ‘Why am I not surprised that they have doves when the rest of us have one-legged pigeons with fleas?’ Her eyes fell to a small door on the bottom right that was padlocked shut. ‘Hang on, what did the clue say again?’ She repeated it in her head, her eyes closed. ‘“So that I can go free.” Think it could be referring to that?’ she asked, pointing to the tiny locked door.

‘Hmmmmm.’ They looked around the bushes and ground near to where they stood, searching for the glint of a key – although to unlock what still wasn’t clear.

‘I am the key to let you in,

What you need for this game to begin.

So hurry, make haste –

It’s emergency.

Come and find me so that I can go free.’

‘What do you think it means by “It’s emergency”? It seems a little bit contrived,’ she mused.

‘What? We do study Shakespeare here, you know,’ he said, trying not to laugh.

A thought came to her. ‘What if . . . what if it’s not an actual key we need? I mean, hotels have cards as their keys now.’ She looked at the locked door. ‘What if the combination code for that padlock is the key to opening it?’

‘So then . . . emergency . . .’ He walked suddenly towards the dovecote and turned the numbers on the lock to 911. The padlock unfastened.

‘Carefu—’ she cried, just as a dove flew out in a drum-beat of wings, trying to find loft in the air right in front of Hump’s face. ‘It did say something had to go free,’ she laughed, watching Hump splutteringly bat feathers away from his face.

Tentatively, worried there may be more, he reached his arm inside the nook and pulled out a cream envelope.

You’re nearly there.

It’s the end of the day.

To find this next clue

Will be child’s play.

‘Yeah. Child’s play? Where are we heading to?’ She pointed towards the peek of blue between the trees. ‘Bet you we find a bucket and spade or something on the beach.’

‘How are you so good at this?’ he asked, replacing the envelope in the door and closing the padlock. (Although Erin could think twice if she thought he was going to recapture the dove again.)

‘A childhood spent reading The Times crossword – sets you up for anything.’ She winked.

‘So isn’t,’ Ro grinned, hooking her arm through his as they carried on down the path towards the beach.

Sure enough, a spade was sitting on an upturned bucket, just beyond the grassline of the garden. Ro let Hump do the honours, preferring to look back up at the house from this viewpoint. It seemed even bigger from a distance, the elegant, slow-moving guests like confetti petals on the lawn, Erin but a pretty dot on the concentric steps.

Hump came back, carrying a small paper US flag. ‘Good luck with this one,’ he said, reciting the clue aloud:

‘The final one.

Don’t be undone

By the boastful looks

Of history books.

See the roots for what they are.

This story started from afar.’

‘Other than telling us to take one of these flags.’ He pointed to a cluster of small paper US flags flapping at the top of a sandcastle.

‘So then that’s telling us we’ve got to find something in the garden that relates to stars and stripes?’

She looked around – there was no way Erin would risk hiding a $250,000 bracelet in the sand. It had to be back in the garden somewhere, and the garden was symmetrical; another path ran up the opposite side of the lawn. ‘Well, then I suppose we head up this way.’

Applause swept down the lawn like a rushing tide, just missing them as they disappeared into the glades again, the tiny paper flag pinched between Hump’s fingers.

They walked in easy silence, their glasses empty in their hands, eyes peeled for a glimmer or a clue, and Ro realized she had forgotten to be self-conscious in her dress now – it actually fit better than when she’d bought it, having dropped a few pounds somewhere over the weeks – and although she was the only woman there both with cleavage and a cleavage that was natural, actually, that was OK. Hump had been right earlier when he’d said he would protect her. She did feel protected with him. She didn’t need to be perfect or tiny or fragrant around him. He saw her at her worst – drunk, first thing in the morning, shocked, dunked in the sea – and still brought her coffee every morning and passed the pepperoni. In most social situations, he was the odd one out, like her: always just slightly too loud or clumsy, like her; his heart too trusting, like hers. They fit together.

She looked across at him, watching as he absently spun the flag in his fingers and wondered who it was he was seeing. He had been deliberately coy with her, clearly as reluctant to share her identity with Ro as he had been with Bobbi, and she felt a stab of jealousy that she wanted his confidence and didn’t yet have it.

They came to a break in the wall, where the path fed back to the lawn through a pudding-bowl yew.

Hump looked across at her. ‘Sorry, but I need to go to the washroom. Give me your glass and I’ll get us some fresh drinks on my way back. This is thirsty work.’

‘Why not? I think we’ve got a good enough lead on everyone to permit a quick diversion,’ she said, turning to walk with him.

‘No. You stay looking. We can’t afford to lose our lead. I’ll bring them over.’

Ro rolled her eyes at his competitiveness, but knew she was no better. ‘Well, you’d better give me the flag, then. We can’t have that lot out there picking up on our clues.’

She ambled at a snail’s pace, not wanting to leave him behind, even though the path had one main artery, with the only tributaries short and leading to occasional nooks for the sculptures. She soon came to one, a circular spot with a magnificent red rose planted in the middle and a life-size military figure set into a niche in the wall at the back.

History books? That had to be it. She ran her hands over and around the statue, searching keenly for anything that stood out. It should have been relatively easy. Everything was so perfectly maintained and in order that anything rogue or stray would flash like a beacon. But there was nothing.

She planted her hands on her hips and exhaled in concentration, the clue running over in her mind: The final one. Don’t be undone, By the boastful looks of history books.

‘“Don’t be undone,”’ she murmured, looking up at the bronze general. ‘So then it’s saying that it’s not on him.’ She looked down at the flag again, trying to do free-association as she turned slowly on the spot: ‘Stars . . . stripes . . . spangles . . . glory . . . military glory . . . wars: civil, Independe—’

Ted Connor was standing by the entrance to the nook, watching her. Fear rippled through her like a sonic pulse to find herself alone with him in this remote spot.

‘Hi,’ he smiled, his voice benign, though she found his position aggressive – did he know he was blocking her exit? Was it deliberate?

‘Hi.’ She crossed her arms over herself, a defensive posture that, unfortunately, only deepened her cleavage. She saw his eyes just barely follow the movement and quickly dropped her arms.

‘I’ve been meaning to drop by the studio and see how you’re getting on with everything, but I’ve been rather overtaken by events recently.’

She bet he had. ‘There’s no need. Everything’s fine. I’m almost done editing the films now and I’m starting on the stills next week.’

He smiled. ‘Good luck with that. There are thousands. We were trigger-happy to say the least.’

His words sent a shiver down her. Were. Past tense. Gone. Dismissed. Forced to make way . . . Ro’s eyes scanned for Julianne, knowing she must be near. But there was no sign of her.

‘Oh.’ She nodded, unsure what to say next. It was too much to stand here making small talk with him knowing they were both talking in riddles. She’d never been a good liar. Did he sense her suspicions about him? Had he seen it across the lawn earlier? He knew she was close to Florence too; he must have known they’d talked. ‘Are you . . . um, doing the treasure hunt?’ she asked, wishing Hump would hurry back.

‘No, no, I’m not doing it,’ she said, seeing her opportunity to get away. ‘We couldn’t afford to play. I’d better leave you to—’

‘Wait.’ He side-stepped in front of her, blocking her path directly. There was nothing accidental about his positioning now. ‘Is it just my imagination or are you always trying to escape me?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, knowing full well that she blushed when she lied and having to resist the urge to put her hand to her cheek to check. ‘I just need to get back to Hump.’

She moved to step past him, but although he wasn’t touching her, his hands by his sides, she couldn’t get past without squeezing herself against him, and that was not going to happen.

‘I just wanted to . . .’ She felt his hand hover above her arm, not touching, but able to feel the charge of his body against hers, like magnetic north to south.

The words fell like tiles on the ground between them as she watched his response.

‘Really?’ Ro inclined her head a little, trying to come across as surprised.

‘She asked me to be with her when the police came to report the conclusions of their investigation with her.’

He put a hand in his trouser pocket and leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving her.

Another house on the street had work done recently and they think it happened then. Her wiring system was over thirty years old and there were none of the safety cut-outs you’d need now. But Florence has still been advised to get a good lawyer. She’ll be due millions in a civil lawsuit.’

Ro’s heart was beating double time. ‘But . . . she’s convinced it was cut.’

Ro looked away, feeling winded by the update. She had believed Florence that day on the bench. Everything she said had seemed plausible, and Florence had been coherent and calm.

‘Don’t worry, Ro – she’ll get justice. This episode won’t go unpunished. Florence is going to be a very rich woman after this.’

Ro looked back at him, seeing the picture beginning to emerge now, like an image onto film. The lawsuit.

He looked at the ground briefly. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look very beautiful tonight.’

‘What?’ Was this the charm, the flattery that ran rings round Florence? She looked up in surprise, his eyes catching hers like a pinned butterfly, and what she saw – fear ran through her, fast and cold. All her worst thoughts reflected back at her, right there . . .

Ted stepped back smartly at the voice, revealing Hump standing behind them, no glasses in his hands.

‘Hump!’ Ro’s relief rang out like a bell between them all, prompting Ted to glance back at her.

Hump picked up on it too, stepping more confidently into their circle now, protective as ever. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything . . .’ His eyes slid between Ted and Ro, resting on Ro.

‘No, no. I was just coming to find you, actually,’ Ro said quickly, almost wanting to cry with relief. She looked pointedly at Ted. ‘The bracelet’s in the rosebush.’

‘What?’ Ted asked, astonished, looking over at the full-flowering red rosebush in the middle of the nook.

‘“See the roots for what they are. This story started from afar.” This is a rose, the symbol of England. The American War of Independence fought for separation from England . . . hence the flag,’ she said in a manic rush, the words falling over each other as she tried to look calm in front of them both. ‘Hump, where are our drinks?’ she asked, posting an innocently curious expression on her face.

He looked across at Ted quickly, but it wasn’t him Ted was watching. ‘Just come with me.’

Ro turned back to Ted, more confident now that Hump was here. ‘Well, bye, then,’ she said.

‘Bye,’ Ted said quietly, his hands in his pockets, his eyes steady upon her, discerning the obvious upbeat change in her behaviour.

She took Hump’s hand as he led her up the path, taking three strides to his one. She kept her chin high, refusing to look like she was running away, knowing – absolutely knowing – Ted was watching her the whole way. Because it wasn’t charm that she’d felt between them in that last moment alone together. It had been far more dangerous than that.

Chapter Twenty-Five