The Prodigal Son Read online

  He looked at the phone and, on the spur of the moment, called Justine again. The phone rang out at the other end but, once again, no reply; and it went on to voicemail. Rob didn’t leave a message. Justine would know from the display on her phone, who the caller was.

  According to the address Joe had given him, Rob’s mother lived just round the corner. What was he going to say? Would she even acknowledge him? Did she still blame him for the accident that killed Sheila Stewart? Had she told her new husband about him? Suddenly, he was unprepared for this meeting. Maybe he should just go back to London and have his solicitor break the news to his mother.

  Something deep within said, “You need to face this yourself, Rob MacLaine.”

  He drove round the corner and up a hill. The house was thatched and he absently thought he should tell Joe. He took a deep breath and turned into the gravel drive, which curved round high hedging to a parking area at the front of the large, traditional, red-brick house. It was surrounded by well-kept gardens, and had a spacious lawn and well-tended beds with shrubs and flowers in full bloom.

  As the Maserati crunched to a halt, a woman who’d been tying up an errant delphinium, stood up and turned to face the source of the noise. Elizabeth MacLaine, or Reynolds as she was now, hadn’t changed much over the years. She was tall for a woman, still slim and elegant, and almost exactly as Rob had remembered her. Her hair was shorter and a little greyer, and her face had a few extra lines, but she was still instantly recognisable. As she walked forward to meet the car and its driver, she held a hand to her brow to shade her eyes from the sun.

  “Good afternoon, can I help you?” she said in a positive, almost challenging tone. She was obviously not accustomed to strangers disturbing her.

  Rob opened the driver’s door and got out. “Yes, I think maybe you can Mrs Reynolds. Maybe we can help each other,” he said, walking slowly towards her.

  For a moment, neither spoke as they faced each other. Slowly, Elizabeth Reynold’s defiant look faded and an expression of disbelief spread across her face.

  “Oh, dear God, no! It can’t be. Robbie, is it you?” She started to cry.

  Rob thought she was going to faint and jumped forward to support her, but she pulled away. The look on her face was almost one of horror. Her hands flew to her mouth and she stood staring, wide-eyed, shaking her head in disbelief. “It can’t be, it can’t be. He said you were dead.”

  “Who said I was dead?” Rob asked hotly. “Who said I was dead?”

  “It is you. Bruce said you were dead.” She walked unsteadily to a wooden bench at the edge of the lawn and sat down heavily. She stared. “Is it really you?”

  Rob stood before her and placed a hand to her shoulder. “It really is me. I must admit, I felt as if I was near death’s door when I woke up this morning with a hangover, but I can assure you, I’m very much alive … despite what my brother might have said. One lie in a series of lies, Mother.”

  “Lizzie, are you all right? What’s going on here? Take your hand off my wife,” a voice from behind boomed.

  Rob half turned and found himself looking at an elderly man with an ex-military bearing and intense expression on his long tanned face.

  “Move away from my wife and keep your hands where I can see them, do you hear?”

  “Mr Reynolds, I’m Rob MacLaine. I’m sorry if I—”

  “Richard, it’s my Robbie! He’s not dead,” she interjected, tears running down her cheeks.

  He looked from her to Rob and back again. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?”

  “I may not have seen him for several years, but I know my own son,” she sobbed.

  Richard Reynolds’ expression softened as he realised that Rob was not a threat.

  Elizabeth Reynolds stood and took an unsteady step towards Rob. She reached out and stroked the scar on his face. “You must hate me so much. I’m your mother and I let them talk me into believing you killed that little girl. I let them send you away.”

  “I don’t hate you. It took me a long time to understand why you did what you did, but, hate you, never that, Mother.” He wrapped his arms gently around her.

  “Maybe we should go inside and get you sitting down, Lizzie,” Richard Reynolds said worriedly. “This must be a bit of a shock to the old system.” He grasped her elbow and looked at Rob. “You, too, young MacLaine. Let’s get you both inside.”

  The three walked to the house and entered through a set of bifold doors into a large sitting room. They helped her into a comfortable looking armchair.

  “Sit down lad. You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll go and put the kettle on; shan’t be long,” he said and disappeared through a panelled door.

  “Are you okay, Mother?” Rob asked, eyeing her worriedly. “This must be quite a shock. I didn’t know that you thought I was dead or I’d have approached this differently. I’m sorry to have upset you like this.”

  “How can I be upset? I thought you were dead, yes, but here you are, large as life.”

  “And twice as ugly,” Rob joked, touching the scar on his cheek self-consciously.

  “No scar could spoil that face of yours, Robbie. You were a beautiful wee boy when you were growing up and look at you now. You’re a man. I don’t know what to say. I let you down. I did something a mother should never do—I deserted you when you needed a mother most. I don’t know how I let them talk me into it.” She stared out the window for several seconds, collecting thoughts. “I realized afterwards that the version of events Bruce gave was a load of lies. Fraser had taken photos of your car and showed me things that belied Bruce’s story. I tried to tell your father, but he didn’t want to know and warned me not to do or say anything. He threatened Fraser with the sack if he ever spoke about it.”

  “You don’t need to say anything, Mother, I—”

  “But you don’t understand—”

  Rob held up a hand. “I’m just back from Achravie …”

  Richard Reynolds reappeared with a tray of tea and biscuits.

  Rob nodded and turned back to his mother. “I’d spoken to Fraser McEwan, Hamish and Lizzie at the Red Lion, and Lorna Cameron. I’d spoken to Bruce as well, so I understand a lot more than you think.”

  “You’d spoken to your brother? What did he have to say for himself? More lies, I’ve no doubt. I hope he burns in hell for what he did to the family,” she said bitterly and started to cry again.

  “I hope you mean that, because I have some things to tell you and I hope you won’t be too upset.”

  Elizabeth Reynolds regarded her son intently. “I don’t think I like the sound of this.”

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this … Bruce is dead. He was shot dead two days ago.”

  Rob’s mother wailed. “God forgive me. I almost said thank God. I know I gave birth to your brother, but he was an evil, spiteful, twisted individual who’d go to any lengths to get what he wanted. What did I say Richard? An evil person who’d meet an untimely end.” A look of horror crossed her face. “You didn’t shoot him. Robbie, did you?”

  “No Mother, I didn’t kill him. I came very close at one point but no … I was there, though, when he died.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story, Mother. First, you knew that Father was dead?”

  “His solicitor, Alan Hogg, wrote to me a few days after he died and told me. Otherwise, I’d have been none the wiser. He suffered a heart attack and was found dead on the floor beside his wheelchair. I went up for the funeral, but didn’t stay, neither did Angus. Bruce said he told you too, but you refused to come and put the phone down on him.” Rob’s mother dabbed her eyes with a small lace handkerchief. “A while after that he said you were dead, killed in Iraq. That’s the last I heard from him.”

  “I found out my father was dead from Fraser only a few days ago,” he said sadly. “As you can see, though, rumours of my death have been grossly exaggerated.” Rob scanned her drawn face and smiled regretfully. “What about Angus? I take it yo
ur still in touch with him?”

  “We keep in touch. He phones nearly every week from New Zealand. He’s doing well out there.”

  “Judging by the car this young man arrived in, he’s doing pretty well too,” Richard said with a blithe smile. “I’m Richard, by the way … Richard Reynolds.”

  “Good to meet you Mr Reynolds … albeit the circumstances could have been more congenial.”

  “Please, call me Richard and sorry about the welcome. I had no idea who you were,” he said apologetically.

  “It’s okay. And it’s good to know my mother is well protected,” Rob laughed.

  Richard smiled. “You’re the healthiest looking corpse I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few in my time.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Tell me about Bruce,” Rob’s mother requested.

  Rob told her the story—from the phone call from Lorna to the night of Bruce’s death. He only related what she needed to know, as he didn’t want to upset his mother any more than necessary. At the end of the recollection, Lizzie Reynolds cried.

  Once composed, she asked about Rob and his life after he’d been banished by his father. Again, he provided an edited version. He spoke of his time in the military, of meeting Joe, and his new life as CEO of Harper MacLaine Security. He told her where he now lived and said they must visit him when they were next in London. By the time Rob had finished, her expression was a mix of pride and regret; she was pleased to hear of her son’s achievements and sad she’d not been part of his successes.

  “What about Achravie? That’s your home and you’re part owner. Angus sold his part of the estate to Bruce after your father died; he didn’t want any part of it. He invested the money in the estates he worked for in New Zealand, and he’s director of the company now, so Angus won’t go back to Scotland again, not now, if ever.”

  “Looks like it’s up to you then. You either take on the family estate or you sell up,” said Richard.

  “You can’t sell Achravie, sorry Dickie. It’s been in the family for generations,” Lizzie declared, horrified at the idea of the estate being sold.

  “Mother, I haven’t even started to think about that yet,” Rob stated.

  “If you sell an estate that’s been in the family as long as Achravie has, it will be like Bruce has won and has finally destroyed the MacLaine family.” Lizzie started to cry again.

  “Lizzie, you can’t put that kind of pressure on Robbie. That’s unfair, particularly after what he’s been through. Achravie must be the last place on Earth he might want to be. Plus, he has a life and a business down here,” Richard affirmed.

  “I need to think long and hard before I make any decisions and I’d need to talk to Angus, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Rob gazed from her to Richard. “I should be getting back to London.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and scribbled some numbers on the front of it. “Take this, Mother. I’ve written my private numbers on it as well. Can you give me your numbers too and an email address if you have one?”

  “Let me.” Richard moved to a sideboard, removed a leather box, and pulled out a card. “I’ll give you our card and I’ll write both mobiles on it. It’s got the house number on it and we share an email account.”

  “Excellent.” Rob stood.

  His mother rose and flung her arms around his neck and, hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here, after all these years, and he told me you were dead, the bastard.” When she cried this time, the tears were ones of happiness.

  Mother and son embraced again on the drive. Rob shook hands with Richard, someone he felt was good and kind, someone who’d look after his mother so much better than his father had ever done. They’d provided contacts for Angus so he could re-establish contact with his brother and discuss what should happen with Achravie Estate.

  As Rob drove back up the M3 toward London, he mulled over options. He may have just lost his father and Bruce but, in truth, he’d lost them years ago. On the bright side, he’d established contact with his mother once more and it seemed that she and her second husband would be a part of his life going forward; hopefully, Angus would too.

  His mother had said that Angus was married to a lovely New Zealand woman and had two sons and it suddenly dawned on him, he was an uncle!

  As the late evening sun dipped below the horizon, Rob pulled onto the hard shoulder quickly and powered the Maserati’s roof back into place; as he re-joined the main carriageway, he hit the Bluetooth button and dialled Joe’s personal mobile number.

  Joe, like Rob, carried a dual-SIM smartphone, which allowed the use of separate numbers for business and private use on the two SIM cards housed in one phone. Joe’s phone rang three times before he picked up.

  “How did it go, buddy?”

  “Great … brilliant, I think. I’ve got my mother back in my life and that feels awesome. Her new husband seems right; they fit well together, if you know what I mean. She’d sussed Bruce out for what he was and hated him with a vengeance, so she wasn’t too upset by my news. Oh, and I’m an uncle. Angus has two kids, I’ve got his contacts, so I can talk to him.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ right about now,” Joe said dryly.

  “My mother wants me to take on the running of Achravie Estate—it’s been in the family for generations, part of the family tradition, you can’t turn your back on MacLaine history, and all that kind of stuff. I can’t run Achravie Estate, even if I wanted to, and I’m not sure that I do want to. What do I know about running an estate, for God sake?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a deal of thinking to do, mate.”

  “It’s not fair to burden you with all this; you’ve got enough on your plate with Suzy and the pregnancy and all. It just that I’ve got no one else to talk to about it, and you make things make sense in your own perversely logical way,” Rob explained.

  “Thanks. I think I detected a compliment in there somewhere.” Joe chuckled. “Suzy and I were talking at lunchtime today. We booked that villa in Corfu again for a holiday, before we knew Suzy was pregnant. We can’t go now. We’d arranged for Suzy’s sister and their kids to go, but the kids have got chickenpox and they can’t go, either. We took it for a month and it’s about a week or so into that. Things are pretty quiet in the office, so why don’t you take yourself out there, get away from things, enjoy bit of peace and quiet, and all that stuff, and just have a good think about everything?” Joe suggested.

  “That sounds like heaven right now, but I can’t just up and leave you at the drop of a hat,” Rob replied.

  “Yes you can, Rob. The workload in the office has been planned with me not being here this month, so where’s the problem?”

  Rob thought about it. “Are you sure? What if Suzy goes into labour early or something?”

  “Corfu is three hours from Gatwick and EasyJet do daily flights, so if we really needed you, you could be back next day. The villa in Pelekas has good robust Wi-FI and a reliable mobile signal, so we could talk daily, as necessary.”

  “Villa in Pelekas?” Rob asked curiously.

  Joe chuckled. “It’s beautiful … sits just outside the village of Pelekas, four bedrooms, big terrace area, stunning views. Twenty-minute walk to the beach, lovely big pool and it’s absolutely spotless. You know Suzy—she wouldn’t go to a villa that wasn’t spot on, never mind go to back to it again and again. It’s sitting there, empty.

  “I could phone the owner, tell her you’re coming out, and EasyJet still has seats on a flight at 05.55 tomorrow morning, Suzi checked. This time tomorrow you could be on Corfu, sitting with a G&T with lemon from the trees in the garden, munching on a local takeaway meal. What do you say?” Joe asked enthusiastically.

  Rob laughed. “You’re on.”

  “Good, because I’ve already taken care of it, mate,” Joe said smugly. “Suzy booked you a flight and a rental car this afternoon, and she emailed the owner to tell her you’d be coming. She’ll email you the details shortly.”

  “
What if I’d said no?”

  “You were never going to be allowed to say no. Seriously, you need this space, for your sanity. Just get out there, relax and try to make sense of all this. Work out a way forward. Once you get your head together, get your fuzzy butt back over here, and we’ll get on with things.” Joe laughed heartily as he disconnected.

  27

  At 05.56 the next morning, EasyJet flight EZY8751 pushed back from Gatwick Airport’s North Terminal to start its flight to Corfu. Speedy Boarding, which Suzy had booked, worked well and Rob sat in seat 2A watching London disappear behind him.

  He read and dozed the first half of the flight to Corfu, then began to think about the people in his life: his father and mother, brothers, Joe and Suzy … and, of course, Justine. In turning her back on him, Justine had taken away a light she’d brought to his life, and left him a place darker than it had been before. He’d not have believed it possible to miss someone so much, having known them for such a short time.

  The flight landed on time. After picking up his luggage at the carrousel, he made his way to the car-rental desk and accepted keys to a little Fiat Panda.

  “You’re on your own, so you won’t need a big car”, Suzy had said, ever practical. However, a photograph of a Volkswagen Eos convertible caught his eye, as it was intended to. He treated himself to an upgrade, having negotiated a good deal with the cheerful young lady behind the desk.

  Rob set up the satnav on his smartphone and followed directions to Pelekas and the villa. Once there, he stopped at a little minimarket, and stocked up on essentials and headed to the villa.

  The villa owner turned out to be an attractive and gregarious lady who showed Rob all the things she thought he’d need during his stay. She gave a few pointers as to where to go and what to see, how to get to the beach, and other local places of interest. She then handed him a set of keys and a business card with her contacts, telling him to get in touch if he needed anything, and left him to settle in.