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Rhys wasn’t the only one gaping open-mouthed at his grandmother. Monty looked like a stunned mullet as his mouth opened and closed as if he was struggling to find the words. ‘So where does that leave us?’ he managed to ask in the end.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. All I do know is that I want to live my golden years doing whatever I can to make up for all the years I’ve neglected our family. If that’s not good enough for you, then get in that camper van and rattle off to wherever you want to, Montague Travers. I’m staying right here.’ She extended her hands across the table, one towards Stevie and the other towards Ziggy. ‘I’m so sorry, my darlings, for everything.’
After that there were lots of hugs and tears. Monty agreed he would give things a try, although Rhys wasn’t convinced he would make it stick. Only time would tell. Hope had returned to report that Cam was as much in the dark as the rest of them and would call back once he’d spoken to Scott. He’d said it was unlikely the boy would know anything because, as far as he was aware, Scott hadn’t spoken to his father since the previous summer.
Rhys hadn’t heard anything from Tasha and, wanting to reassure her that the drama had been averted and her job was safe, he decided to track her down. He said his goodbyes and made it as far as the yard before his uncle called his name. Halting, he waited for Ziggy to catch him up. ‘I’m just going to find Tasha.’
Ziggy’s expression was strained, which wasn’t surprising given the emotional upheaval they’d all been put through. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not sure how to say this, but I’m worried she’s not been straight with us.’
Rhys folded his arms across his chest, instantly on the defensive. ‘How so?’
‘There was a weird thing with the payroll when she first started. I couldn’t get a P45 from her and she made some excuse about still being paid by her previous employer because they’d put her on gardening leave.’
‘I agree that sounds a bit unusual, but she wasn’t doing anything illegal by working two jobs, was she?’
Ziggy shook his head. ‘No, we handled it all properly with the HMRC and she finally produced a P45 a couple of weeks ago.’
Rhys frowned, no idea where this was going. ‘So what’s the problem?’
His uncle sighed again. ‘Remember what Monty said about Willoughby having someone do a feasibility study on the estate? Well, I looked him up just now and the company he owns is called SJW.’
A sudden sick feeling gripped Rhys’s insides. ‘What’s that got to do with Tasha?’ But he already knew before Ziggy confirmed it.
‘SJW was the name of the last employer on her P45.’
Rhys raced across the estate as if the hounds of hell were after him. Screeching into the campsite car park, he all but abandoned his Range Rover across several parking spaces and leapt out, Samson on his heels. The dog had followed him the moment he’d started running and Rhys hadn’t wanted to waste any time trying to get him out of the car when he’d jumped into the passenger seat. As he set off through the woods towards the lodge, Rhys pulled out his phone and dialled Tasha’s number again. No answer. Maybe she was still in her meeting. It was the weakest of straws to cling to, but it was all he had as he started to run again.
He knew something was wrong the moment he rounded the corner of the lodge and saw the patio doors were wide open. Inside, the open-plan room looked much the same as usual, down to the pile of cardboard boxes that had been delivered the other day. He remembered how upset Tasha had looked when she’d first seen them, and the flimsy excuse she’d given him about how she’d miss her flat because it had been her first proper home. Was that another thing she’d lied about? He called out her name, but there was something about the air that told him the lodge was empty. Still, he wasn’t going to leave without checking every inch of the place.
As soon as he entered Tasha’s bedroom, Rhys began to fear the worst. Several drawers hung open and a pile of clothes was strewn across the bottom of the bed. A half-full suitcase lay open on the floor, as though she’d started packing before abandoning it in her haste to leave. And she had left, he could feel it in his gut.
He dialled her number again. Listened to it ring and ring until it switched to voicemail. He shut it off, unable to bear the sound of her voice. How could she have betrayed him like this? He stared in bewilderment at the bed. The bed where they’d slept together, made love together, made plans for the future together. And then he spotted it, half hidden under a pile of underwear: Tasha’s mobile phone. No wonder she hadn’t answered it. It was the final nail in the coffin of his hopes that somehow this was all just some terrible misunderstanding. If she’d left it behind, it could mean only one thing.
She was never coming back.
Feeling sick and sad, Rhys retrieved the phone. Picking it up was enough to wake the screen and he glanced at it, expecting to see the half-dozen missed calls from him. But there were no notifications on the screen and instead of the Juniper Meadows logo the backdrop was a picture of Tasha smiling towards him, a baby dressed in silk and ruffles cradled gently in her arms. Was this her personal mobile phone? He turned it over and the cover was bare, no sign of the Easter-egg sticker.
He sank down on the bed and swiped the screen, growling in frustration that it was locked. What was that code she’d given him for the work phone? Something about her sister’s birthday? Bonfire Night, that was it! What were the odds that she’d use the same code for both handsets?
There was only one way to find out…
30
Tasha lay on her bed, her fingers tracing the faded ribbons on her quilt cover. She had no idea what time it was, some time mid-morning she guessed from the dull ache in her stomach. Her body might be telling her it was time to eat but she had no appetite for anything, least of all facing her mother for yet another round of ‘I told you so’s. Crawling home with her tail between her legs had been the last thing she’d wanted to do but she had nowhere else to go. Danni would probably have taken her in, but that would’ve meant disrupting their entire household and, with two small children, it just didn’t seem fair.
Below her a cupboard door slammed, followed by the rattle of cutlery being thrown into the tray with rather more force than was necessary. All signs her mother was losing patience with her. She wondered how long it would be before she came marching up the stairs, demanding answers. Another cupboard door slammed. Ten, fifteen minutes tops.
Rather than face her mother from the vulnerability of her bed, Tasha forced herself up and into the shower. She pulled open the overnight bag she’d thrown a handful of things in and surveyed its meagre contents. Her breath caught as she pulled out a large navy jumper. Rhys must’ve left it on her bed the other night and she’d shoved it blindly into her bag when she’d grabbed her pyjamas. She raised it to her face, drawing in the woody scent of his familiar aftershave.
God, how had she made such a mess of everything?
Five minutes later she slipped into the kitchen and was surprised, but relieved, to see her father there. ‘What are you doing home?’
‘Your mother made me take the day off, but never mind about that now. Come here, darling.’ He closed her in his warm, familiar arms and hugged her tight. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, okay?’
Tasha hung onto him for a long moment, wishing this were something her daddy could still fix. But she wasn’t a little girl any more and this wasn’t a case of pumping up a flat tyre on her bike or gluing back the arm on a broken doll. She sniffled. ‘I’m afraid this is too much for anyone to fix. I’ve done something unforgivable.’
Her father stepped back and cupped her face, holding her eyes with his own, a deep frown etched between his brows. ‘Do I need to give you an alibi?’
