Page 12 of Don't Believe A Word

‘So am I,’ Cristy muttered, and quickly swung the car to the right as she mounted a low, grassy bank.

‘It’s more or less straight now,’ Sadie told her, ‘and it’s all downhill.’

‘So the house itself is on the coast?’ Cristy asked, eyes glued to the tarmacked drive.

‘Not exactly, it kind of overhangs, but for some reason the fog never seems quite as bad in our cove as it does elsewhere. Great party last night, wasn’t it?’

Cristy nodded. ‘What time did you leave?’

‘Around two, I think. Jasper’s not in the best shape this morning, so I left him in bed while I went to check on Mia. I had a bit more of a dig around in Lottie’s rooms while I was there, but nothing new, I’m afraid. What did you make of the pages I gave you last night?’

‘I’ve just spoken to my partner, Connor, and he’s as intrigued by what we’ve seen so far as I am. So you need to fill me in on everything you’ve done to try to find out where you came from.’

With a sigh, Sadie said, ‘Not very much, is the answer, I’m afraid. I mean, the obvious stuff, like DNA and Google searches, but when I have so little to go on … Ancestry-dot-com can’t help without the names of my mother and father – I put in Martin and Vanessa Winters, but that was never going anywhere without dates and places of birth. And anyway, we already know that my aunts didn’t have a brother. Sorry, it’s sounding a bit hopeless, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t let’s give up yet,’ Cristy advised, and felt a slight unravelling of tension as a truly spectacular Arts-and-Crafts-style mansion, with towers and turrets, whitewashed walls and red-brick chimneys, emerged from the haze like a fairy tale castle. ‘It’s impressive,’ she murmured, coming to a stop outside a wide, arched front door with enormous pots of topiary either side and a church-like stained-glass window above.

‘It’s insane, really,’ Sadie declared, ‘but it’s home and I think you’ll like it inside. They’ve always kept it up together and there’s plenty of space for entertaining. Lottie loved to throw parties. Come on, the door’s unlocked so we can go straight in.’

The hexagonal entrance hall turned out to be every bit as grand as Cristy had expected, and was, she suspected, most likely flooded with light on a good day from the ornate ceiling lanterns high overhead. The walls were painted a creamy white, the floor was pale oak and the furnishings, so many of them, werecolourfully and tastefully in keeping with the distinctive turn-of-twentieth-century period.

‘Lottie’s rooms are over there,’ Sadie announced, pointing towards a set of oak-panelled double doors, both closed, with exquisite fan-shaped wall sconces either side, ‘but come and meet Mia first.’ As she trotted down three steps to lead the way through another set of panelled doors, Cristy followed, admiring everything they passed, from the sumptuous William Morris wall coverings and Klimt-style paintings (maybe they were originals?) to the art-deco cabinetry and a fascinating collection of vases and lamps.

Eventually they were in a kitchen-cum-living area, which, though large, was much simpler in décor than what she’d seen so far. A superb and vast hand-carved cast-iron fireplace with a log fire burning in the grate was between two sumptuous cream-coloured sofas, while a round eight-seater table and matching chairs filled a circular breakfast area where tall windows offered uninterrupted views of a mist-shrouded sea. The kitchen itself was almost discreet with teal-coloured units and a wraparound bar.

‘Ah, ha, you must be Sadie’s new friend.’ Mia Winters entered the room from another door, all smiles and quirky elegance in a beige-mix tartan pinafore and cream rollneck sweater. She was in good shape for seventy, no doubt about that. Her chin was an arresting feature, seeming a little large for her face, while her abundant, expertly coloured hair was carefully flicked up at the ends, and the dark amber jewels in her ears matched the colour of her eyes. ‘I’m Mia,’ she said, offering a slender hand, ‘and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Cristy said warmly. ‘You have a beautiful home.’

Mia smiled. ‘Thank you. Please, won’t you sit down?’

‘I’ll make coffee,’ Sadie said and scooted round to the kitchen area. ‘How do you take yours, Cristy?’

‘Black, no sugar, thanks,’ Cristy replied.

‘A girl after my own heart,’ Mia smiled, touching a hand to her meagre chest. ‘You’re a guest of the Gaudions, I hear. And didn’t you make a podcast about the girls’ mother? David’s dead wife?’

As Cristy blinked in surprise, Sadie exclaimed, ‘How do you know that? I never told you.’

Mia smiled craftily. ‘I don’t rely on you for all my information,’ she replied. To Cristy she added, ‘It was an addictive series. I binged the whole thing in two sittings. What an incredible job you did, and how utterly marvellous that you and David have now become close. I do believe the hand of fate was at work there … Well, it is in everything, of course, but sometimes it reveals itself more clearly than at other times.’

Wondering if Mia believed that fate had washed a near-two-year-old girl up on their beach almost twenty-four years ago, Cristy said, ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the series.’

‘You’re a dark horse, Mia,’ Sadie scolded.

‘Oh, that was Lottie, not me,’ Mia corrected. ‘My sister had so many secrets,’ she told Cristy. ‘She was probably a spy. I always used to think so, but she’d never admit to it. If I’m right, then I’m sure she was a jolly good one. Lottie was good at a lot of things, wasn’t she, Sadie?’

‘The best,’ Sadie confirmed, bringing cups and a coffee pot to the table, ‘but one thing’s for certain, she was absolutely useless at keeping her paperwork in order.’

Mia’s laugh was slightly too high. ‘That’s true,’ she assured Cristy, and turning to a long-case grandfather clock next to the fireplace, she blinked in surprise, as if it had struck. ‘Is that the time already?’ she asked.

Since the hands were showing twenty-past eight, it had either stopped, or was three hours slow – or maybe it had sped off to the evening.

As though her aunt hadn’t spoken, Sadie finished pouring and handed a cup to Cristy as she said, ‘I was telling Mia about last night’s party earlier. The fireworks were sensational, weren’t they?’

‘I’ve always loved fireworks,’ Mia confided. ‘We had them all the time at our parties, when Lottie was alive. She didn’t care for them so much, but she knew I did so they were a must.’

‘Actually, it’s you who doesn’t really like them,’ Sadie reminded her. ‘Lottie was a fiend for them.’

---