“Not what you’re thinking, no,” Mrs. K said, sat down herself and prepared the coffee. “But it is him we want to talk to you about.”
Mr. K broke in. “You have to know that what we’re about to tell you could –”
“We could get sacked.” Mrs. K interrupted abruptly, finishing with the coffee.
“Wha…” Julia’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat, feeling her mouth go suddenly dry. Whatever they had to tell her had to be important. They both loved Sommersgate and she thought they would do nothing to put their places there in jeopardy. “What is it?”
Mrs. K didn’t hesitate but reached across the table and slid over two framed photographs that used to be in Julia’s room, the one of her family at Christmas and the one of her wrapped around Gavin when they were children. “Sorry, luv, I hope you don’t mind but I took these out of your room.”
Julia shook her head, indicating she didn’t mind. She also didn’t know what the photos had to do with anything. Scanning the photos she memorised, she tentatively took a sip of her coffee.
“For weeks and weeks, I’ve been searching and all I could come up with is this,” Mrs. K went on, then, she slid something that looked like a piece of paper across the table and when it was in front of Julia, she flipped it over.
It was a photograph, a formal portrait taken of the Ashtons with Monique and Maxwell and a young Douglas (who had to be the same age as Gavin in the other photo) and Tamsin (at the same age as Julia).
They all looked refined, well-bred and very serious.
What they did not look was happy.
The stark difference between Julia’s photos and Douglas’s photo was undeniable.
“What…?” Julia started to say, confusion marring her features and dread beginning to seep into her bones as she stared in fascination at the handsome but serious-looking boy who used to be Douglas.
“As long as I’ve been in this house, there has been no love here,” Mrs. K announced.
Julia’s heart clenched and she had half a mind to flee the room because she knew she didn’t want to hear what was going to come next – what she knew from piecing together memories and thoughts; what she knew of Tamsin, Douglas and Monique; what Douglas had said Christmas Eve; and what she’d been denying now for weeks.
But she had to stay, she had to know.
“You know Lady Ashton, the way she is with you and her grandchildren, she was no different to her own children, cold, uninterested, self-absorbed, sometimes cruel,” Mr. K explained and Julia shuddered at the thought of having a mother like that. Patricia might have been strict but Gavin and Julia always knew her sternness came from love.
“Mister Douglas and Miss Tammy, they were close. I was wrong earlier. There was love in this house. Miss Tamsin loved her brother. She loved him like crazy.” Mrs. K shook her head. “But it wasn’t enough. Not without a mother who cared and not with a father who abused him,” Mrs. K stated quietly.
Julia’s body jerked at the words and she felt her blood run cold.
“Abused him?” Julia’s voice was a horrified whisper. “Maxwell abused Douglas?”
She frantically tried to picture Maxwell in her mind. He was always friendly, though not overtly so. He was solicitous but not exactly kind. Douglas and he clearly did not enjoy each other’s company but they didn’t avoid one another. Julia had always thought the way Monique and Maxwell treated their children was just the reserved way of the English, titled, upper-class.
“Aye, lass,” Roddy Kilpatrick said. “We wouldn’t be telling you this if we didn’t think, well, that is to say –”
Mrs. K again butted in. “We know you care but you’re holding back. I’m sure you have your reasons, Mister Douglas seems an unfeeling man and maybe he is, though lately…”
Mrs. K trailed off and Mr. K took over. “There’s a reason for it, the way he is.” He was speaking gently, watching Julia with thoughtful, searching eyes. “And we thought you’d want to know.”
She didn’t want to know, she had to know.
Julia spoke around the lump in her throat, her voice croaky. “How did he abuse Douglas?”
The couple looked at each other and Mr. K nodded at Mrs. K to go on. “You saw it most, my love,” he prompted quietly.
When Mrs. K turned to Julia, there was wetness in her eyes and Julia’s heart went out to her at the same time she braced for what was to come.
“It isn’t something you could see, no bruises, no broken bones. In fact, I don’t think I could even explain.” Mrs. K’s hands were resting on the table and they were clenched into fists. Mr. K put his hand on one of his wife’s and squeezed. She took a shuddering breath and went on. “Mister Douglas tried so hard to be the best at everything. He never played, never sat around and watched telly, such an intense child. If he was outside with a football, it was because he was practising, driving himself to be the best he could be. If he was inside, he was studying or reading or –”
“It was never good enough for old Lord Ashton,” Mr. K broke in and explained what his wife was trying to say and Julia felt a sinking feeling begin in the pit of her stomach, a sinking feeling she remembered well. “Once, before Carter, we had a chauffeur named Hodges. One day, ole Hodges was ill so Lord Ashton asked me to go and pick Douglas up from school for a weekend at home. Didn’t go himself, even though he had nothing to do, he asked me to go. When I got there, the boy was waiting for me, telling me his father had mixed up the schedule and there was a rugby match he had to play and asking me politely if I could wait. I like my rugby, so instead of waiting at the car, I snuck around to watch the match.” He turned eyes that shone with admiration and a hint of pride to Julia and her sinking stomach tightened uncomfortably. “He was magnificent. Could have played professionally, given time, he was so good. Think the coaches felt the same.”
“After he came home,” Mrs. K picked up the story, “Lord Ashton started shouting at him for being late. When Mister Douglas explained, Lord Ashton didn’t even ask him how it went or if he won, just asked him if he made captain. Douglas hadn’t, he wasn’t popular with the other boys, seeing as he wasn’t outright friendly. It didn’t matter that he was the best player on the field, Old Lord Ashton just found the thing he could use to hurt his boy and then he yelled at him, right in the stairwell, in front of all the staff and Tamsin and anyone who was in hearing distance which could have been all the way to town. Yelled and yelled, red in the face and cursing, saying things to the boy… calling him names –”