Chapter 14

*****

I call a cab for Kirstie. “They’ll be thirty minutes getting here, so go clean yourself up.” I point her across the lobby. “There’s a bathroom over there and to the left.” Snatching a box of tissues from under the reception desk, I push it into her hand and as an afterthought, pull a twenty from my pocket and give her that too.

She protests, “No, Micha….”

“You can’t go around with no cash at all. Pay me back when Ben returns your purse.”

She sniffles agreement and heads for the washroom.

Trying to rub the throbbing from my forehead, I take a deep breath. Then another.

What’s next?

The receptionist is giving me some odd looks, so I head out of the rear of the hotel to the gardens for some privacy. Then, leaning back against the chill stone wall, I try Ben's phone again.

And again.

And finally, he answers.

“Yes?” His voice is staccato, short.

“Ben? Have you calmed down enough to talk?”

“Talk? What's to talk about? I find my sister-in-law fucking with my brother’s supposed best friend, and somehow I'm the one in the wrong?”

I’ve had enough. “Don't get shirty with me. I'm not blaming you for reaching the wrong conclusion. I should have spoken to you long ago and explained, but there was no reason for you to tackle it the way you did. And what on earth possessed you to drag Kirstie into it?”

Ben sounds sullen now. “I wanted a witness, so they couldn't deny it or say it was my imagination or something....”

“Really? Well, I'd say you owe Kirstie an apology.”

“I owe her? You're kidding. She's been screwing around when she was supposed to be with me and on top of that I find she met you and him…. at one of these clubs of yours.”

“And what has that to do with you dragging her here in the first place? Especially since you didn’t even know any of that at the time.”

He ignores the question. “I'm still thinking my way through it all. What you said about Charlotte. I thought she was alright…. But now…. I can't believe you fell for someone like that. To actually marry that kind of woman.”

The throbbing in my head turns to banging. “That kind of woman? Mind your mouth, Ben. That's my wife you're talking about….”

“’Course it is….”

“…. and if you don't like my family arrangements, it's strictly your problem, Not mine. Not hers. Not James’.”

“Family?” He screeches the word. “One whore with two men? That's not a family. That's... That's depraved. So how did she persuade you into it? Offered you dirty sex?” His voice drips disgust. “I always thought you were brighter than that, Michael, to get lured into something so….”

Something flips in my brain. “Mind your own fucking business, Ben! And don't bother getting in touch again until you've learned some manners and you’re ready to apologise to my wife and to James!”

Without bothering to tap off the phone, I hurl it against the wall where it splinters into a starburst of plastic, metal parts and electronics.

Screaming, I throw my fist at the nearest object, which happens to be an old chicken shed. It was next on the list anyway for demolition and the bonfire, but as my knuckles slam in, they burst through wood spongy with rot which explodes into a mess of splinters, dust and woodworm. The whole sorry mess creaks, groans, then slow-motion collapses into a heap of smashed panels.

Chest heaving, I stand, helplessly shaking still-clenched fists. Then as a final afterthought, putting all my force into it, I kick at the wall….

Fuck!

The pain that slashes through my foot leaves me gasping.

Feeling a fool, I heave a breath, my bruised toes lifted slightly from the ground.

Sodding stupid thing to do….

“You're not planning on keeping poultry anytime soon then?”

I swivel, fist raised and James steps smartly back, hands upraised. There’s a glint in his eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s anger or amusement.

He pokes a toe at the collapsed chicken shed, his voice air-dried. “At least this time it was something that was supposed to be taken apart.”

Heat rises up my neck. The last time I did something like this, I punched a hole through Haswell’s office door.

I bristle, then as his lips quirk, finally I huff a laugh. “I’m sorry. I had to hit something.”

He eyes me slantwise. “Since our original plans have been scuppered and you’ve been kind enough to supply the materials, how about a bonfire party for Charlotte’s birthday?”

“Great idea. I…. I brought the cake.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Come on, cheer up. It really wasn’t your fault, but your brother doesn't come anywhere near Charlotte again.”

“I'll talk with him.”

James’ voice steels. “Do that if you wish, but Ben doesn’t come here anymore. If you need help on the grounds, we’ll hire it in.”

“Understood.” I think of the woman I left drying her eyes in the hotel. “It's fair to say that Kirstie and Ben are not an item anymore. Not that they ever were.”

His face hardens again. “I’ll deal with Kirstie tomorrow.”

“James, it wasn’t her fault either. Ben dragged her along.”

“Dragged her? A grown woman and he forced her to come?” Then his gaze travels over my shoulder and I turn to follow.

Charlotte, in jeans and a thick jersey, hovers by the door. Her face pale, she winds a long red lock around a finger,

James flashes me a look, then his voice high, “Charlotte, a change of plan. We’re going to have a bonfire party. Come and help me mull some wine.”

She brightens. “There ought to be toffee apples and gingerbread.”

“Ah,” he says, raising a long finger, “I happen to know that you will find both in the kitchens. Sally made a batch for the hotel guests.”