The Dead Wife. Sue Fortin

– but reading between the lines, three-year-old twins and a five-year-old are putting a bit of a strain on their marriage. Natalie wants to move back to Norfolk to be near her mum. Owen doesn’t.’

      ‘Not if he’s going to be part of the business,’ said Harry. ‘I mean, what else could he do? And Mum, she’d be heartbroken.’

      ‘Exactly. Although that didn’t stop you.’

      ‘It’s different. I’m a widower. I haven’t got any kids. I’ve never wanted to be part of the business.’

      ‘Mum was still heartbroken.’

      ‘No, she wasn’t. She was just sad about me going, but not heartbroken,’ said Harry. ‘Is Mum aware you’re telling me?’

      ‘No. She was adamant she didn’t want anyone to know, including you.’

      ‘So why are you telling me?’ While Harry was glad Dominic had broken the news, he knew his brother well enough to know there’d be another motive behind the disclosure.

      ‘Jesus, Harry. Why the fuck do you think I’m telling you?’ hissed Dominic. The sound of their mother humming as she came down the hall filtered through into the room. ‘Because you’re her blue-eyed boy and nothing would make her last days happier than having you about.’

      ‘She said that?’

      ‘Of course she didn’t but everyone knows that’s true. You can’t go back to France. You need to stay here.’

      Harry eyed his brother as he considered the prospect of having to stay. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to support his mother, far from it, but Conmere itself held far too many bad memories for him. Memories he had escaped from when he’d moved to France. The idea of staying at Conmere any longer than a few days filled him with a sense of unease, but the alternative – leaving his mother when she had only months to live – was unimaginable and something he knew he couldn’t do.

       Chapter Six

       Two Years Earlier, Conmere Resort Centre, 10 August, 10.30 a.m.

      Elizabeth took a final sip of her Earl Grey tea and, glancing down at the little dogs sitting expectantly at her feet, she picked up the croissant from her plate, broke it into three and chucked it onto the terrace. ‘You can afford to get fat,’ she said as the dogs eagerly gulped down the evidence.

      She checked her watch for the fourth time. Surely the breakfast meeting Harry was attending with his mother and brothers was over by now. She looked at her phone in case she’d missed any messages from Harry, but there were none. Harry had said the meeting was primarily to discuss the sale of some land to a housing developer. The twenty-acre site on the edge of the estate was prime development land and, from what Harry had gleaned, outline planning permission for up to one hundred houses would be granted.

      The land was worth in excess of 3.9 million pounds. Elizabeth couldn’t understand the hesitancy of her mother-in-law. Pru Sinclair wasn’t convinced about selling for any price, whereas both Harry and Dominic could see the potential. Naturally, pathetic little Mummy’s boy Owen had taken his mother’s side and the family were at an impasse. Elizabeth drummed her manicured fingernails on the bistro table. She hated being shut out of the business discussions like this.

      ‘Morning!’ came a voice.

      Elizabeth turned her head and saw Natalie, Owen’s wife, coming along the terrace with her three children in tow – the twin boys, Max and Oscar, in their double buggy and three-year-old Tilly on the buggy-board. Great, just what Elizabeth needed, the next generation of the Sinclair dynasty squawking around her. Yes, they were Harry’s niece and nephews, and on the whole they were generally lovely and very cute, but that was when there were enough pairs of hands and the adults outnumbered the children with at least a 2:1 ratio. When the ratio was not in the adults’ favour, Elizabeth struggled to find her charity.

      ‘Hi, Natalie,’ she said, plastering on a smile. ‘And hello, Tilly. How are you?’

      Tilly jumped off the buggy-board and headed towards Elizabeth, a sticky lolly positioned in her hand like a medieval jousting pole. ‘Cuddle!’

      Elizabeth eyed the lolly and noted the sticky face. Deftly, she managed to catch Tilly’s wrists and avoid any direct contact with the sweet. God knows what Natalie was thinking, letting the child have a lolly this early in the day. Elizabeth managed the briefest of contacts before picking Tilly up and sitting her on the chair opposite.

      ‘Are they still in the meeting?’ asked Natalie, jiggling the buggy into place. One of the twins, Elizabeth couldn’t work out which one, began to grizzle. Natalie rummaged in the changing bag and produced a ready-made bottle of formula milk. She offered it to the child, who immediately stopped complaining but whose cries were replaced by his sibling’s.

      ‘Here, let me hold that,’ offered Elizabeth, feeling sorry for her sister-in-law as she struggled to fish out the other bottle.

      ‘That’s better,’ said Natalie once twin number two was catered for. ‘Thanks. I was hoping Owen would be out by now. We’re supposed to be going to my friend’s today.’

      ‘What, and missing Sunday lunch? How did you manage to get a pass for that?’ Getting out of a Sinclair Sunday dinner was equivalent to a Houdini escapology trick.

      ‘It’s my friend’s birthday,’ said Natalie with a wry smile.

      ‘They’ve been in there ages,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I didn’t think it would take this long.’

      ‘Do you know what the meeting is about?’

      Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in her sister-in-law’s direction. Natalie was very sweet, but she either had no interest in the business side of things or, more likely, didn’t have the time. ‘It’s about the twenty acres that Carter Homes want to buy. Hasn’t Owen mentioned it?’

      ‘Oh, that! Yes, he did tell me, but I was only half listening. I think he said Harry and Dominic thought it was a good price and they should sell, but Pru didn’t agree and Owen backed her up. Is that it?’

      ‘Pretty much.’

      Natalie was distracted by Tilly’s sticky hands and took a wet-wipe from the changing bag hanging on the back of the pushchair. ‘I don’t get too involved, but I think Owen wants to do something with the land; I’m not sure what though.’

      ‘Hopefully it will get sorted out today,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I mean, 3.9 million pounds … that’s nearly a million each.’

      ‘How much? Wow! I didn’t realise we were talking those kinds of figures.’

      ‘It’s not as if that part of the estate is used for much either, other than rambling or mountain biking. Even then, there are better trails on the south side of the estate. For the use it gets, plus the added costs of its upkeep, it’s not worth it. It doesn’t attract that much income per annum. Certainly not 3.9 million pounds’ worth.’

      ‘Gosh, you sound like you should be in the boardroom yourself.’

      Elizabeth gave a small laugh. ‘Oh, I intend to be one day.’

      It was Natalie’s turn to laugh. ‘Yeah, like Pru would ever let that happen.’

      ‘Don’t forget, it’s my background. I’ve come from the travel industry. I was head of PR. I do know my stuff,’ said Elizabeth, withdrawing the bottle from the now dozing baby’s mouth. ‘I do actually have an official role here as PR Officer. I think they all forget that sometimes.’

      ‘Ah, but not a shareholder. Not able to vote on anything,’ replied Natalie. ‘In effect, an employee.’

      ‘For now,’ said Elizabeth, unable to ignore the irritation she felt at Natalie’s accurate summary of her