Tobias was getting tetchy. It was always the same in early December. Treweham Hall was thrown into total chaos, as his mother insisted on the traditional festive decoration of the Hall. This was no mean feat, and resembled a military operation, rather than a family preparing for Christmas. A fir tree of gigantic proportions was always ordered and delivered from Norway. Getting the huge tree securely in place in the hallway was a mammoth task, as was climbing the ladder and balancing from the staircase and landing to decorate it. Megan was strictly forbidden to go anywhere near it, not even to lift a bauble. Poor Henry had been given the onerous task of placing the angel right at the top and, given his lack of head for heights, he was hardly the ideal candidate. Aunt Celia had landed on them again, much to Sebastian’s despair. Beatrice was on full alert, ordering the whole household about.
In the end, Tobias had quietly slipped away and headed for The Templar. He had unfinished business with a certain person to be found there. The television crew only had a few more days in Treweham, according to Megan. Finula had told her that Marcus and his team would be leaving shortly, after filming the village’s yuletide preparations, and after that, they’d be gone. Tobias strode into the village with purpose, the report he’d got from David Lombard tucked neatly inside his woollen coat. On entering The Templar he was greeted by Dermot.
‘Hello there, Tobias, what can I get you?’
‘Just an orange juice, please, Dermot.’ He waited for Dermot to pass him his drink before taking a sip, then asked, ‘Where can I find Viola Kemp?’
Dermot looked a little surprised. ‘I’ve not long served her lunch. She’ll be at the far end of the dining room.’
‘Thanks.’ Tobias nodded and went in search of her.
What did he want with Viola? Wondered Dermot.
Viola had just finished her meal and was sipping a tonic water whilst going through her notes. The interviews she had conducted were labelled and in chronological order. All her research was neatly stored and easily accessible. The contact details of every person contributing to the documentary had been stored, in case they needed to be approached again. She was just finishing when a shadow fell across her laptop. Looking up, she saw Tobias glaring down at her. Well, well, well, what could he want? Second thoughts, perhaps? Hardly surprising, judging by the size of his wife. He must be gagging for it by now. Viola sensed triumph, and a warm glow rose through her.
‘I’d like a word, in private.’ Tobias sounded firm and in control. But then, he would, wouldn’t he? Somebody like Tobias wasn’t likely to come contrite, full of regret and remorse. That would be so unlike the aristocratic playboy he was at heart. Viola smiled smugly: how the mighty crumble.
‘So where would you like to go, in private?’ She arched an eyebrow.
‘Your room.’ That way no one would overhear him.
Hell, he really was desperate for her. Basking in her victory, Viola shut her laptop. ‘This way,’ she said, the conceited laughter in her voice evident.
Tobias was thankful that nobody saw them as he followed her up the stairs. She had composure, he’d give her that, with her straight back and shoulders, head held high. It would be interesting to see if she still had the same composure once he’d finished what he had to say.
Closing the door behind him, he reached for the envelope inside his coat.
Frowning, Viola asked, ‘What’s that?’
‘I decided to do a little research myself,’ he replied, staring her in the face. Did he detect a slight flicker of apprehension? ‘And it uncovered some things that were most interesting.’
She stood and watched in silence. This wasn’t going at all to plan.
‘It appears you’ve led quite an… eventful life, haven’t you, Viola? Or should I say, Vera?’
She gulped, her eyes growing wide like saucers.
Tobias continued, ‘That’s quite a list you’ve racked up: drink driving, shoplifting, stalking. I take it your employers are unaware of your past? But how would it look if it was all resurrected, just like you threatened to resurrect my past?’ Viola’s eyes darted to the brown envelope in Tobias’ hand and she swallowed again. ‘Especially with a suspended sentence hanging over you,’ he finished with force.
‘I… I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she croaked weakly.
‘Nothing wrong? You came into my home, admitted “researching” me to the point of obsession, you exposed yourself to me, propositioned me, then threatened me.’ His glare bored into her, making her tremble slightly. She licked her lips nervously.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘Here’s the deal. You are going to delete all the footage of my interview.’
‘What? I can’t do that!’ she rasped.
‘Oh, I think you can, Vera. Your reputation and career depend upon it.’
‘How? I can’t just erase stuff like that. It’s with Len and Libby, probably Marcus, too, by now.’
‘Then you’d better gain access to it all somehow and destroy it. The interview with my brother and the filming inside the Hall and grounds you can keep.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ she replied with sarcasm.
‘You’re welcome,’ he nodded back with a tight smile.
He threw the envelope at her. Inside was a copy of the report, but he’d kept the original. ‘Read it for yourself. Don’t be a fool. You do as I say and keep well away from me and my family, or else I’ll have you slammed behind prison bars. Got it?’
Viola took the envelope with a shaking hand. Tears threatened to spill, tears of shock, anger and frustration; not of regret.