Sins of the Fathers Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Titles by Anthea Fraser from Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Families, Friends and Acquaintances

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Titles by Anthea Fraser from Severn House

  The Rona Parish Mysteries

  (in order of appearance)

  BROUGHT TO BOOK

  JIGSAW

  PERSON OR PERSONS UNKNOWN

  A FAMILY CONCERN

  ROGUE IN PORCELAIN

  NEXT DOOR TO MURDER

  UNFINISHED PORTRAIT

  A QUESTION OF IDENTITY

  JUSTICE POSTPONED

  RETRIBUTION

  Other Titles

  BREATH OF BRIMSTONE

  PRESENCE OF MIND

  THE MACBETH PROPHECY

  MOTIVE FOR MURDER

  DANGEROUS DECEPTION

  PAST SHADOWS

  FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS

  THICKER THAN WATER

  SHIFTING SANDS

  THE UNBURIED PAST

  A TANGLED THREAD

  SINS OF THE FATHERS

  Anthea Fraser

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2018 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY

  This eBook edition first published in 2018 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2018 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD

  Copyright © 2018 by Anthea Fraser.

  The right of Anthea Fraser to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8790-0 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-913-9 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-969-5 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  FAMILIES, FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES

  In Drumlee, Angus

  Mark Richmond/Adam Ryder

  Douglas Crawford

  Paula Crawford, his wife

  Sebastian Crawford, their elder son

  Harry Crawford, their younger son

  Helena Crawford, their elder daughter

  Natalie Crawford, their younger daughter

  Jessica Crawford, Harry’s wife

  Danny Crawford, Seb’s son

  Nick Pagett, Natalie’s fiancé

  Callum and Lexie Mackay, owners of the Merlin Hotel

  Blair Mackay, their son

  Ailsa Dupont, their daughter, married to Jean-Luc, the chef at the hotel

  In Kent

  Mark Richmond

  Sophie Richmond, his wife

  Florence Richmond, their daughter

  Charles Richmond, Mark’s father

  Margot Richmond, Mark’s mother

  Jonathan Richmond, his brother

  Delia Richmond, Jonathan’s new wife

  Peter Kingsley, Sophie’s father

  Lydia Kingsley, Sophie’s mother

  Simon Lester, Mark’s colleague

  Jenny Lester, Simon’s wife

  Stella Jordan, Sophie’s friend

  Lance Grenville

  James Meredith

  In Clapham, London

  Ellie Mallory

  Sybil Mallory

  Tom, Ellie’s boyfriend

  ONE

  Standing in the centre of his sitting room, Mark Richmond went through a mental checklist. Bills paid, boiler turned off, newspapers cancelled, electric devices unplugged.

  It was a stroke of luck that he’d pre-booked this early spring break, because, one way and another, he’d had about as much as he could take. And when he came back, he promised himself, he’d put the house on the market. Like a host of other things, it was now part of his past. He’d abandon it, he told himself firmly, with as little regret as a snake shedding its skin.

  His eyes moved broodingly round the pleasant room with its host of memories, good and bad, and came to rest on the bookcase and the studio portrait on top of it. On impulse he walked over and, ignoring the photo, skimmed along the row of titles before deciding after all not to remove any; he’d read those that interested him and had no wish to add weight to his modest luggage. Luckily he’d done a lot of backpacking in his youth and was adept at travelling light.

  Despite himself, his eyes lifted to the lovely face in its frame. Nor would he be taking her with him, he thought with suppressed venom, and, picking up the photo, replaced it with a satisfying thump face down.

  Time to be going. Wheeling his case out of the front door, he stowed it in the boot of the car and set off for the station.

  There was a queue for tickets at King’s Cross and Mark glanced impatiently at his watch. His train was due to leave in twenty minutes, but as long as they kept moving he should make it in time.

  He’d almost reached the window when his arm was grabbed and he was pulled forcibly to one side. ‘What the—?’ he began angrily, before registering to his surprise that his assailant was a young woman.

  ‘There you are!’ she was exclaiming. ‘I’d almost given you up! What are you queuing for? I said I’d get the tickets! Now come on or we’ll miss the train!’

  He pulled back. ‘There must be some mistake; we’ve never met—’

  ‘I know that!’ she said impatiently. Despite his resistance she was dragging him with her along the concourse. ‘Do hurry up! I’ll fill in the details once we’re on the train.’

  ‘But I’ve no idea—’

  ‘I’ve told you, I’ll explain.’

  Whoever she was, she seemed prone to speaking in italics. They stopped at a barrier and he saw that the waiting train was bound for Aberdeen rather than York, his intended destination. But by now his curiosity was aroused: who the hell was this determined young woman, who acknowledged they’d never met, yet was set on his joining her? And how would she react when she discovered her error?

  There was only one way to find out. After all, he’d nothing better to do and she seemed to have a ticket for him. His plans, such as they were, wouldn’t suffer from a day’s delay. Come to that, he’d not booked in anywhere, and Scotland was as good a place as Yorkshire for a walking holiday. Alternatively – and perhaps the best course – once she’d explai
ned herself he could leave both her and the train at the first stop, which, according to the board, would be Stevenage.

  ‘Coach B,’ she was saying. ‘Typical! Right at the far end!’

  Her mobile chimed from the depths of her handbag but she ignored it as she made her way purposefully between throngs of hurrying fellow passengers.

  ‘At last!’ she exclaimed, coming to a halt and opening a carriage door. ‘Can you stow the luggage while I find our seats?’

  And, casting aside his last doubts, Mark did as she requested before following her down the length of the coach.

  ‘Now,’ he said, taking the seat beside her, ‘perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell me what the hell’s going on?’

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ She opened her bag, took out her mobile and pressed voicemail. The voice that reached them, harried and breathless, was hard to make out against considerable background noise.

  ‘Ms Crawford, it’s David Lauder from Benton’s. I’m extremely sorry, I’ve been held up all along the line – first traffic, then we stopped between stations on the tube and I’d no signal. I haven’t a hope of making the train, but there’s another in an hour or so. If you text me the address, I’ll join you there. My apologies again.’

  Mark’s abductor spun towards him, doubt suddenly flooding her face.

  ‘Then who the hell are you?’ she demanded accusingly, and out on the platform the guard’s whistle blew and the train began to move.

  Mark leaned back, able to study her for the first time. Early thirties, at a guess. Short red-gold hair, pale skin. Not his type – too bossy, for a start.

  ‘I might ask you the same question,’ he said. ‘There I was, minding my own business, when you suddenly seize hold of me and drag me on to this train.’

  ‘Kicking and screaming? Hardly. You could have stopped me if you’d really wanted to.’ Still the accusatory tone.

  ‘I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. Then curiosity got the better of me.’

  She drew a deep breath. ‘But I don’t know anything about you,’ she said.

  ‘Likewise. Though you don’t seem to know much about the guy you were supposed to meet, either.’

  ‘At least he’d been vetted.’

  Mark raised an eyebrow. ‘Vetted?’

  She flushed, the colour staining her pale cheeks. ‘I suppose I owe you an explanation,’ she said slowly. ‘David Lauder, who phoned just now, belongs to a firm I use now and then, which provides partners for business people, to attend functions and so on when required. And no,’ she added quickly, as his eyebrow lifted again, ‘it is not an escort agency, it’s on a purely business basis.’

  ‘I never doubted it,’ he said gravely, and she threw him a suspicious glance.

  ‘Well, as I needed someone for the next week or so, I contacted them. Unfortunately my usual partner wasn’t free so it was arranged this David Lauder would stand in for him. We were to meet under the clock and he was described as being tall and fair, wearing a dark blue windcheater and with a tartan wheelie case.’

  ‘Which would fit half the male population of London.’

  ‘So it would appear,’ she said drily. ‘Where were you intending to go?’

  ‘York, on a walking holiday.’

  ‘At least you hadn’t forked out for your ticket.’

  Was he supposed to be grateful? He turned the conversation back to her. ‘So why is a “partner” required on this occasion, and for as long as a week?’

  She hesitated. ‘Perhaps before we go any further we should introduce ourselves. I’m Helena Crawford – not, if you please, Hel-aina, or Hel-eena. Accent on Hel, as my brothers never fail to point out.’

  ‘Mark Richmond,’ he said.

  She solemnly held out her hand and he as solemnly shook it.

  ‘So why the need for a partner?’ he repeated.

  ‘To pre-empt my sister.’ She flushed again. ‘Not a very worthy aim, I grant you, but I was intending to pass you – or rather David Lauder – off as my fiancé.’ She looked at him challengingly. ‘Are you up for that?’

  ‘What does it entail?’

  ‘A week’s free holiday, for a start.’ A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be required to sleep with me! You’d be standing in for David, so the Benton’s rules apply. In any case I’ll be sharing with my sister – we often have to on these occasions.’

  ‘And what is the occasion?’

  ‘My parents’ ruby wedding anniversary. And, if I’m not mistaken, the announcement of my sister’s engagement. Hence the need to get in first, so to speak.’

  ‘It seems a bit pointless, if you don’t mind my saying so. You’ll be found out sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Oh, after a week or two I’ll say I’d dumped you. It wouldn’t be a problem – none of us live near each other. So what do you think? Are you still going to pull the communication cord?’

  He smiled reluctantly. ‘Let’s say I’m intrigued. But tell me more. For a start, who’s involved in this celebration?’

  ‘My mother and father, of course – Paula and Douglas Crawford; my brother Sebastian; my other brother Harry and his wife Jessica; and my sister Natalie with her soon-to-be fiancé, one Nick Pagett. And, of course, us – they know I’m bringing someone. Making nine in all. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze and I’m afraid you’d be sharing with the unknown Nick.’

  ‘Even so, it’s a hefty bill for your parents.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not a hotel, it’s our second home. I haven’t been for a while, but when we were children we spent all our holidays there.’ She gave a mock shiver. ‘Though God knows what it’s like this early in the year. Scotland in February! Blame the parents – what a month to get married! On Valentine’s Day, would you believe!’

  Mark was silent, turning things over in his mind before saying, ‘And it’s in Aberdeen?’

  ‘No, we get off at Montrose, which is the nearest station. Then it’s a good half hour’s drive to Drumlee. Seb will meet us.’

  ‘What time are we due to arrive?’

  ‘About five, I think.’

  He looked at his watch and gave a low whistle. ‘That’s a hell of a journey! Why in heaven’s name don’t you fly?’

  ‘Because, though I hate to admit it, I’m a wimp. I had a nightmare experience when I was little, and it put me right off.’

  He glanced out of the window at the rapidly passing suburbs. ‘And to get this straight, at the end of a week we go our separate ways? No strings of any kind?’

  ‘Positively none. One of Benton’s strictest rules.’

  Not that they applied in his case, but he couldn’t imagine wanting to prolong the charade. As she’d said, it was only for a week, and since he’d booked a fortnight’s leave he could still go walking at the end of it.

  She turned to look at him. Her eyes were her best feature, large, dark-lashed and periwinkle-blue. ‘So what do you think? If you’re prepared to go ahead I’ll have to text David and stop him coming.’

  His decision, he found, was already made. ‘I’m game if you are,’ he said.

  As the journey progressed they exchanged as much information as she considered necessary for the role to be played.

  ‘You’ll be interested to hear we’ve had a whirlwind romance,’ she ended with a smile. ‘I told the family we’ve only known each other about six weeks and purposely avoided going into details. I had to give you a name, though, so I chose Adam Ryder. Apart from that, you’re free just to be yourself,’ she added, with a satisfaction he didn’t share.

  She turned to him suddenly as a thought struck her. ‘God, I haven’t asked if you’re married! I sort of assumed, since you’re on your own …’ Her voice tailed off uncertainly.

  ‘In a manner of speaking, I am,’ he replied.

  She frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘My wife’s not around at the moment.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘A four-year-old daughter.’ His heart t
wisted at the thought of Florence.

  ‘Also not around?’

  ‘Correct.’

  A lopsided smile. ‘With that baggage, I doubt if you’d qualify for Benton’s!’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind when I’m job-hunting.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you job-hunting?’

  ‘Not actively.’

  She gave an exclamation of impatience. ‘Not very forthcoming, are you?’

  She didn’t know the half of it. ‘No reason why I should be.’

  ‘True,’ she conceded after a moment, and asked no further questions.

  By the time the train finally pulled into Montrose station Mark was already having second thoughts. Tired as he was after the journey and the succession of sleepless nights that had preceded it, he was far from sure he’d be convincing as the would-be husband of the young woman he’d just met. Adam Ryder, he reminded himself, wryly acknowledging that it’d be a relief to escape Mark Richmond, albeit temporarily.

  What would Sophie have made of all this? he wondered with grim amusement as he stepped down on to the platform. But thoughts of Sophie, like all else he’d left behind, were strictly taboo and he hastily stifled them.

  In this he was helped by an excited cry of ‘Auntie Helena!’, followed by the approach at speed of a small boy who hurled himself at Mark’s companion and wound his arms round her legs.

  ‘Danny!’ she exclaimed laughingly. ‘Careful – you’ll trip me up! What are you doing here?’

  A tall man in a Barbour jacket joined them, his collar turned up against the cold wind that swept down the platform. This, Mark recalled from Helena’s summary, must be the divorced brother.

  ‘The whole family’s invited,’ he remarked, bending to kiss his sister’s cheek, ‘and as luck would have it, it’s half-term next week.’

  He turned to Mark, holding out his hand. ‘Sebastian Crawford.’

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ Helena broke in. ‘Seb, this is—’

  ‘Adam Ryder,’ Mark said smoothly, taking the extended hand. ‘How do you do?’

  Sebastian nodded, his eyes briefly raking Mark’s face. Then he turned back to Helena and relieved her of her case. ‘Right, let’s get going. The car’s just outside.’