No More Secrets!

By Bill Corfield

Rory and Kristy Kalloran are hard-working dairy farmers who send their daughter to college to learn modern business practices. Tracy marries into the Damon family which opens old wounds for Kristy Killoran. Dannika Damon is determined to have a grandson to carry on the dynasty and uses all her wiles to do this, before dying of cancer. Tracy, widowed in an accident, is left to save the Damon reputation and the family business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Corfield
• Release date: Aug 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301087020

Bill Corfield

Bill Corfield is The Canadian Storyteller with over twenty titles in print of military,naval and corporate history, biographies, fictional novels and memoirs. He is a retired public relations consultant and lives in London, Canada.

Book preview

No More Secrets!

By

Bill Corfield

The Canadian Storyteller

Copyright 2013 Bill Corfield

Published on Smashwords

Formatted by eBooksMade4You

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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-Also-

The Storm Spirits – E-book

-Print Titles-

The Pilgrim File

Dead Spy, Dead Secret

Code Name Cigo

The Home Front

Friends and Comrades

The Honourable Printer

The Venturesome Reporter

Very Special People

Keen for Adventure

Southeast Pasture [TV Drama]

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CONTENTS

NO MORE SECRETS

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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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No More Secrets

Arnold Toplady pursed his lips in pleasant appreciation and nodded. ‘That’ll do it, Charlie!’

The gardener tossed his clippers into his cart and grumbled: ‘Looked alright before, I’m saying!’

‘I know,’ Toplady soothed, ‘but Mrs. Damon complained that it didn’t quite match the new bush on the other side so I said we’d trim it. We don’t want to disappoint the retiring Chancellor’s wife, do we? Not on the day his portrait goes up!’

Charlie grunted something that Mr. Toplady ignored and started raking up the clippings. Toplady sighed with satisfaction as he looked proudly around the immaculate grounds of Durham University. He was a stocky man with the hands of a labourer but wore a dark blue suit and grey tie for this great week on campus. He loved September and the ‘Freshers Week’ when the students came back and they had the special ceremony in the old Cathedral. He could spend without fear of budget restraints for these important events! He took full advantage of it every year to replace worn sod, plant new trees and clean the buildings. After all, this was the time when money came visiting in designer dresses, tailored suits and glistening cars. Financially successful graduates returned to see their sons and daughters become part of good old Durham U!

He checked that the volunteer drivers were assembled near the entrance to park cars. He inspected the colourful marquee that sheltered the important visitors from sun or rain, and gave them a feeling of regal importance. The weather was going to be perfect! Some years had been real soakers when he had to borrow umbrellas from the golf club, but not today! He climbed the wide stone steps, glistening in the sun, and entered the sombre and impressive nave. His workers had long since finished. The florists had completed their displays and departed. He surveyed this hallowed hall, this chapel for the Spirits of Knowledge and Wisdom. He checked the impressive vaulted ceiling, the shiny panelling, the memorial windows for outstanding graduates, the sturdy wooden pews, and the red and blue carpets marking the routes of the processional. All immaculate! The entire interior had been cleaned, the painting freshened, the sculptures carefully cleaned and replaced in the traditional niches. Toplady felt proud! He trod slowly and respectfully toward the front with the reverence due this great cathedral. He turned for one last look at all the splendour, and saw that Sir Morgan Gardner, Chairman of the University Council, was entering with the great man himself, Montague Damon, retiring Chancellor, early fifties, immaculate in a blue, pinstriped ‘banker’ suit although he was not a banker. His hair was fashionably long at back and sides, curling just right to give the easy, debonair impression. The memorable features were preserved in the veiled portrait hidden beneath the golden drapes ready for dedication. His statuesque partner was Danny Damon, Queen of Durham Society, rich, more beautiful than her pictures, important, popular, influential, maxi-length lime-green dress hiding her shapely legs and ankles, full gossamer sleeves cuffed at the wrists, contrasting so effectively with her crown of auburn hair. Her arm was linked with her husband’s and she leaned heavily against him, walking regally and sharing the great moment with the two men. Heather, the Chairman’s niece walked demurely behind them like a lady-in-waiting with a pillbox hat perched on her blonde head and a designer suit accentuating her figure. The Damon’s had arrived early, Toplady knew, as requested, to be briefed about the portrait unveiling ceremony, because Montague Damon’s portrait was to hang in the School of Business, along with his father and grandfather.

On another part of that campus, Tracy Kalloran stood on the pavement in front of the Dunbar College of Business Management, a brick and glass structure in modern contrast to the eleventh-century castle that housed the university’s origins. She was tall, big-boned and sturdy, with arms as muscular as any boys from farm work. Her warm lips were always ready to smile, with the lower curling out in a rather provocative way. Her shoulder-length hair was clutched back in a ponytail that gave her a sporting appearance. Her friendly attitude and vitality had made her a popular student. This was her first time away from home and she was uncertain just how she felt! Excited about the college adventure? Or sad about leaving everything she loved? She felt overwhelmed by this new world. She whispered good-bye to her father. ‘It’s four years since I was a student, Dad! These kids look so young!’ He gave her a comforting pat on the arm but decided against a farewell kiss. ‘Anyway, I’ll be home on Friday.’

Rory Kalloran had been dreading this moment since the day began. This was a different good-bye! Tracy was leaving home! Her bright, comfy bedroom would be empty tonight! She’d be sleeping in that sterile room in the residence with a communal washroom! And it was all on his insistence! He hesitated to even give her a hug with so many students around so he just smiled: ‘Good bye Tracy, I’ll meet you at the bus stop.’ He backed self-consciously toward his farm truck. ‘I’m later than I planned! The milking will be done by the time I get back.’

He spun around as a red sports car screeched to a halt within feet of his truck. Two girls were sitting on the hood, three more on the deck behind the driver. ‘Get that wreck out of here!’ the driver shouted, blasting his horn as the girls jumped out, waved their thanks and brushed by Tracy to dash into the building. Rory scowled at the driver but showed no sign of resentment. He was a hard-working progressive farmer, medium height but slim and muscular, embarrassed that the great mop of black hair that had been his boyhood pride, was now thinning so that his scalp was showing a bit. He was wearing work pants, with green suspenders helping the belt to hold them up, and a wool shirt. He was sweating, from the sun and from emotion. He loved his daughter very much. ‘All the best in your studies!’ He choked. He gave her one last encouraging smile and climbed into the cab.

Tracy watched him drive slowly around Boundary Road with its clusters of walking and cycling students, across the humped stone bridge over the River Wear and out of sight. The red sports car came back and revived her resentment. Her Dad’s farm truck wasn’t new, but it wasn’t a wreck, and she was angry at the shouted insult. She knew it hurt her father. She loved him so much and blinked away tears as loneliness swept over her. She hadn’t wanted to come to the city and take this course in Financial Management, but he had coaxed her. ‘Dairy farming has become a complex business, Tracy,’ he had explained. ‘You’ll own the business one day and you’ll need to know how to manage money and keep our records straight if we’re going to get bigger and maybe buy a dairy, like you and I talked.’ She’d promised to do her best, and she would, for him, and her mother, and the farm that was so much a part of her life. Tracy straightened her shoulders and marched into Dunbar College.

Rory Kalloran watched the lone figure of his daughter in the rear view mirror for as long as he could, and felt a little guilty that he had persuaded her to take the course. She’ll be grateful, later on, he convinced himself, and it’s only for a year, a certificate course, not like taking a university degree. He pushed Tracy out of his mind by concentrating on the road until he turned into his lane, past the statue of Countess, the great Dairy Champion that his wife’s grandfather had erected. Their home was a three-storey, sand-coloured brick with a wide veranda across the front and down the side. The front door was hardly ever used and the drive curved around to the back. The milking was finished by the time he drove into the equipment shed. The boys were washing down the milking parlour and the herd was already plodding out to night pasture.

He went in to the kitchen to the smell of cooking. ‘Hi Kristy, I’m home!’ Kristy Kalloran was just taking the bread out of the oven and wiped her hands on her apron. She was a vigorous person whose eyes still reflected the conviviality of her youth. Although attractive in personality, she spent little time on her appearance and had her hair in a mannish cut so that it needed slight attention. "My, my, Rory, you’ve had quite a day!’

He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat wearily. ‘Quite a day is right!’ he sighed. ‘It was a good thing I decided to take the truck. By the time we’d picked up the computer Tracy had ordered and the books she needed from the store and the new clothes she said she had to have, plus all the stuff from here, we had a real load. Enrolment took some time before she got her Campus Card and could get settled in residence and then over to the school to find her classroom. Anyway, she’s settled!’ He sampled a slice of the warm bread. ‘She’ll be home Friday afternoon so she can tell you all about it. What smells so good?’

Kristy laughed. "Can’t take any credit for the smell, Rory! Since there’s just the two of us for dinner, I warmed a can of vegetable and beef stew, but the bread’s my own. I baked six loaves.’

‘Six? Won’t they go stale?’

‘Not a chance! The church group’s here tomorrow, or did you forget?’

‘Save some for Tracy!’

Kristy sat on the other side of the table. ‘Yes, she always enjoyed my fresh bread.’ She sighed. ‘She’ll be home on Friday, you say. She’ll be like a visitor, sort of, coming home for the week-end, but no longer part of the family.’

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Course she’s still family. She’ll be back with her certificate in no time. Nothing will change.’ He looked at Tracy’s place and thought of all the happy times around that table, Christmas dinners, birthday parties, friends that she used to bring home. This would be the same comfortable, happy kitchen again.

She stared out the window at the tree Rory had planted on Tracy’s first birthday. She hoped he was right but she had a mother’s intuition that had been with her for days. ‘No, not exactly the same, Rory, she’ll make new friends and learn new ways and she’ll be a person all on her own,’ She said it so softly that he could barely hear. ‘She’ll still be Tracy, I know, but she’ll be different, you’ll see.’

He nodded silently with the reluctant admission that she was probably right.

Neither could know how right they were!

While the Kalloran’s were discussing how university would change their daughter, Monty and Danny Damon were driving home in their Vauxhall Insignia. They had attended the Chairman’s reception in the Faculty Lounge, always an elite affair after the formal ceremony in the Cathedral. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ Monty exploded as he smiled warmly and waved at roadside students. ‘Not enough that I have to go through that bloody portrait affair, but then I have to be nice to the Chairman and all that crowd of academics. The only reason they tolerate me is because my father gave money.’

‘I rather enjoyed it, myself!’ Danny countered, ‘particularly now that I don’t get out so much.’ She was lying back with her head on the back of the seat, nursing the throb in her arm. ‘I wish Sandy would have come!’

‘Smart fellow! I thought he was rather smart to ask Heather to be your companion instead.’ Monty was driving extra cautiously with the number of students walking and bicycling around campus, plus his rather worrying load of liquor.

Arnold Toplady was one of the cyclists that stopped beside the Vauxhall, waiting for a crowd of students to cross. He looked at the handsome driver and instinctively lifted a hand off the handle grip to salute. He received a nod of acknowledgement in return. Did the great man really recognize him? Toplady watched the big car purr away and felt a little envy at their comfortable life, no worry about monthly bills, big home and lots of friends. He realized that his heart was pumping just a little faster as he peddled home to tell his wife!

‘Heather!’ Danny Damon snorted. ‘Bloody useless she was! Wandered off as soon as the drinks were served, and you buggered off to talk to your golfing friends, and I was left to hang onto some professor I didn’t know.’

‘You should use your cane!’

She sat up and thumped the armrest angrily. ‘No Monty, I will not use a stick in public. If I can’t depend on my family to help me now that I’m ill, then I’ll stay home!’ She flopped back and was gasping from the outburst. ‘You’re just making excuses because you don’t want me hanging on to you while you chat up every young thing in sight, but your Lothario days are over, Monty Damon. I’m not getting any better and I’ll need your help more and more!’ This time she ended with a shuddering sob. She was silent as they passed through the city, then said dreamily: ‘I wish Sandy would find a nice girl and settle down. He’s so shy and spends too much time alone working on that old car. It’s time he was married and started a family.’

‘You can’t expect him to be a leader in sports or take girls to dances with his leg. It’s still a tiring handicap.’ he responded defensively. She just acknowledged that reality without comment and closed her eyes. He knew how she worried about their son and soothed: ‘Now that he’s through university I’ll get him working at the paper. It’s time he started taking a bit of responsibility so I can ease off.’

They were too weary to talk any more and drove in silence to the big stone house that Benjamin Damon built a hundred years ago and named ‘Damonica’.

Neither the Kalloran’s nor the Damon’s could have envisioned how that day would change their lives forever!

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TWO

Tracy Kalloran woke after a terrible night! She was aching from the unfamiliar mattress, exhausted from a hard day yesterday, her stomach growling from hunger and shocked by the amount of studying that her course involved.

After entering Dunbar College, she had walked along several corridors with numbered doors until she had finally found the one indicated in her Induction Planner. The door was open and she walked in. The be-speckled man at the desk gave her a weary smile and held out his hand. ‘Campus Card!’ He was wearing an open-neck shirt, faded jeans and a frown of concentration as he looked at it. ‘Tracy Kalloran! Welcome. I’m Sidney Delmonte, your course professor.’ He referred to a list. ‘Kalloran, yes, a mature student!’

She gulped. ‘Is there a difference?’

He smiled. ‘Ah, yes! Students who have been out for a few years come back to learn so they can get a better job! Many of the ‘Freshers’ come for the social life and to get married.’ He turned and pointed to stacks of papers on a table against the wall. ‘Grab yourself one of everything off those piles, read them and we’ll see you Monday.’ He looked back at his roster. ‘What kind of business interests you?’

‘Dairy farming!’

‘Ah! That’s one we don’t have as a project. Maybe we should!’ He returned to his papers. Tracy slid one of each packet into her backpack, walked back out into the sunshine and retreated to the solitude of her room. She dumped her load on her desk, collapsed onto the bed, hugged her pillow that was her cosy friend from home, and went to sleep.

She was still hugging it in the morning, damp from her tears and sweat. She crept out of her room into a silent passage and found the washrooms. A shower eased her aches and made her realize she was desperately hungry. After she dressed and brushed her hair, Tracy started to explore. The sound of dishes and laughter led her to the canteen, large, painted entirely white, with a dark-skinned woman busy behind the counter. She stopped and looked up. ‘Hello Luv! Another new arrival! Got your Campus Card?’ She wiped her hands on a towel, looked at it, smiled a huge smile and handed it back. ‘Tracy Kalloran! I’m Doll! We’re not fully open yet, next Monday, but I can get you tea and toast.’ Tracy nodded. Doll indicated a sign. ‘Bought your ticket for Greet and Meet Luv?’

‘What’s that?

‘Big dance for Dunbar Freshers!’ She slid a plate of toast across the counter. ‘Posters all over! Bunk and the Boys are playing.’ She raised her ample body as high as she could and announced proudly: ‘Bunk’s my son!’

‘When is it?’

‘Week Saturday. Big gym!’

‘But I haven’t got an escort.’

She burst out laughing. ‘Escort! You need a big stick to keep the wolves away!’ She held up the