Page 90 of Thick as Thieves
“You know?” I ask incredulously. I flop into a chair defeated. Fear of rejection is starting to bleed into my psyche.
He simply nods. “You should have told me, but you didn't. You both kept it a secret. I knew you knew. I could tell by how you acted, midarlin’. Differently. I couldn’t make it out. Until I saw an invoice at the farm office. You weren’t quick enough, Jonno. It came in before you got to the post.”
Jonno raises his eyes to the sky and immediately launches into justifying our actions. “We didn't want Evie to be taken away. Herstepdad had gone. Then he was found dead all those months later. Look at how hard my mum fought to keep her with us. We needed insurance and protection, so we did it.”
“Henry Russell kept you there. No one was prepared to go against him. Lord Stockton, he vouched for you and the Greystones, so it never came to the authorities getting fully involved. I know that young Russell hounded his life out to help. Told his dad he would disinherit himself if Henry didn’t step in.”
I look at Jonno. I never knew Kellen had gotten involved, Kell never said. But I can see Jonno knew.
“Why did you not tell me you knew, Marshall?” I ask quietly, lots of emotions hitting me at once. Maybe he didn’t want to believe it. Maybe it was too much for him to take on officially.
He pauses and looks into my heart. “I have loved you, my daughter, for all of your life.”
Tears well up, and Marshall puts his arms out to me. I move instantly into them as Jonno starts for the door.
“Stay, Jonno,” Marshall implores gently. “If you had not ordered that test, I might not have been brave enough to acknowledge what I always knew in my heart.” He stops and gazes lovingly into my face. “Your mother never confirmed it, midarlin’, but she hinted. And her dying written wishes confirmed it to me. I didn’t need a test to prove I loved you, Evie.” Jonno comes and takes my hand, my other one in Marshall’s.
“Sometimes things are done. It’s not right, but it is for the right reasons. We protect as we think best.” He lets that one sink in. “I have protected you by not saying, and we have protected each other. But I have acknowledged you in lots of ways, Evie. You and my grandsons are my world. I have backed you with money, love, and, I hope, support.”
I nod at him. He has unequivocally done that. He has moved his life for me.
“I know you have, Marshall. You’ve moved heaven and earth for me. And I hope you know how much I, we, love you.” I step forwards and hug him. “Can I call you Dad? Can the boys call you Grandpa?”
He gifts me his big slow smile, saying, “I would love that more than anything in the world.”
44
Xander
Devon
We moveinto Marshall’s farm. The old buzzard has totally played a hand and driven a very hard bargain on the rent. Marcus reckons we could rent Buckingham Palace cheaper than Marshall has charged us for this place. We have to redecorate it, and he has three out buildings he says need refurbishing—all part of this particular tenancy.
Of course, we only know one builder of old, disused buildings who also happens to be a top interior designer, or at least in charge of a team. Our challenge is to get her here. She knows we’re here. Jonno informed us that Marshall feigned total feebleness. Sunk into his pillows so well, even he thought he was properly poorly.
She caved. Oh, and the small revelation she’s an O’Clery. Yep, that would do it. I was retelling the tale to my dad, he’d been away for a month and we were catching up on FaceTime. He said he’d known when he saw her again in Scotland. She looks like Marshall's mother.
He also let out a breath, whistling through his teeth. “Wow, Xander, you are such a gold digger,” he teases me.
“What are you talking about? I’m a rockstar, Dad. Haven’t you heard about how much cash I have.” I’m bigging my part up.
“Not as much as she has,” he laughs.
“Marshall looks like he lives on poverty row. He has holes in his jeans, and not intentional ones,” I tell Dad in amazement.
“An old trick. I think people call it a discount suit. He likes to get a bargain, so dresses down. Mind you, then again, I think it just might be him.” We both laugh.
“Wait til Rowena Russell hears her favourite daughter-in-law is actually an O’Clery.” He sounds as giddy as a school boy at the development. “She’ll have a heart attack. No more ’Everett Parker’ to harp on. The O’Clery’s are like Irish royalty. Family’s been around for centuries. Rowena and her sisters tried to hook a brother, but none stuck. I bet she didn’t even recognise Marshall. He was always the quietest brother. Never got involved in the family politics, just stuck to the whisky business like his mother. She made it the brand it is today.” Dad is looking very impressed, he knows his whisky history.
“They seem the same with each other, but she’s openly calling him Dad and the kids call him Poppop.” My voice reflects the happiness I feel for this change of circumstances, but then I remember my situation and it goes as flat as a pancake. “She doesn’t come here. But the boys come. Valentina drops them off. Or Marshall. And the Purcells are staying there at Cornhill, obviously. Orla has had a baby girl so she’s staying in Yorkshire. The boys wanted to stay in Devon, so Bug dropped them and went home.”
“Seems like everyone is getting sorted out.” He’s watching my face as it changes to one full of disappointment that I—we—are not in that boat. “It'll take time, so just be patient,” he counsels.
“Well Marcus is getting fed up. Every time he goes to the pub, he’s looking for her. Every time we go to the Cottage to record, he’s scouring the fields for her tractor. He knows she’s working odds and sods on the farm.” My voice has become more monotone, all the light falling out of it.
“What about you son? How are you coping?” His voice is soft and caring. He’s clearly worried about me. I’m worried about myself.
“I want to shout at her to fucking listen, but I can’t. The twins are so like her. When they look at me in certain ways, I see her. I can smell her perfume on them. She is everyfuckingwhere here. People talk about something they did with her—farming, at the stables, picnics at the beach—and I have to nod as if I know. It kills me.” I try not to get tears in my eyes. Fuck, this is so hard.
