Beneath the Conflict: The Beneath Trilogy, #3

By C. A. Mitchell

She wanted a career… He wanted a family… He broke his promise… She buried him with lies… Now for the conflict…

With the growing conflict between Barbara and her daughters, Lydia, and Lucy, and then the appearance of the strange and obsessive Olivia—the daughter of a people trafficker, the battlefield is set for conflict.

Barbara must strike fast, but what are her intentions? And why is Olivia pushing to move into the lives of Barbara and Lydia?
With the family again in chaos, is there any hope of resolving the many veils of conflict and lies that separate them?

Barbara is in a dilemma as to Olivia and who she is… What is her motive? What is it she is after? And where will it end?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rampart Books Ltd
• Release date: Nov 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781915778567

Book preview

1

Looking at these two young people with a sense of wonder, Sylvia watched as young love blossomed. Once upon a time, this had been her and Douglas; she remembered those tenderness’s, those special thoughts shared between them. Which was how the young man was looking at Lucy now. Sylvia smiled. Was this the reason Lucy came to see her? What did she think of him? Again, Sylvia smiled.

But Lucy didn’t mention anything about Lydia, which in some ways was worrying. These two had been inseparable. Even as twins, their loyalty to each other might be considered unusual. But there again, they had been through so much together.

‘And how is Lydia?’ Sylvia asked, noting Guy’s good manners. His parents were both barristers, oh how the family was climbing.

‘She has her friends, and I have mine, or rather, I prefer to concentrate on my studies,’ replied Lucy.

Guy suddenly straightened up.

‘And my relationship with Guy,’ she looked at him dutifully.

One could see that Guy was in love with Lucy, but Sylvia didn’t think it could be said of her. Shame. He could be good for her, but you never know with relationships. Pick the right person, and you could be happy for life.

Lucy didn’t want to talk about Lydia; it was painful. Lydia had changed. Her love for her sister was great, and Lydia’s faults were as damaging to her as they were for Lydia. Although it had now come to the stage that Lydia probably didn’t care.

Again, Lucy wished Lydia hadn’t got involved with Olivia. This young woman had come out of the blue. An excitable person whose parents were unbelievably wealthy. In a way, she courted Lydia and showed her what her life could be. And Lydia had been charmed and beguiled by this opulence. She had spent a few days on Olivia’s parents’ yacht and returned boasting about Olivia’s toys. Speedboats, water skiing, parascending, and kitesurfing, to name a few. These hobbies sounded dangerous to Lucy and frightening now to Lydia after the car incident.

Sylvia listened and nodded.

But Lydia had never been happy since then. She had just missed death, and the man who did it was still out there by the grace of their mother doing the right thing.

Itching to ask how their mother was, Sylvia had refused the invitation to join Guy and Lucy for dinner. Special times should be shared with each other. But then later that night, at around ten o’clock there was a knock on her door. It was Lucy.

‘Can I talk to you?’ Lucy’s blue eyes showed she had been crying, and she also looked afraid.

‘Yes, come in,’ worried now by Lucy’s arrival. It was so out of character. Hadn’t this family been through enough?

Hurrying in as if she were being chased, Lucy sat down quickly and huddled into one of the armchairs.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said without waiting for Sylvia to sit down.

‘Do about what?’ Sylvia frowned, giving Lucy her attention. She knew instantly this had nothing to do with her young man, but everything to do with Lydia.

A minute passed, and then two. There was a fight going on in Lucy’s head.

‘It was difficult for Lydia, more I think than for me,’ Lucy glanced to see if Sylvia was listening to her. ‘Mum was right in her assumptions that we were privileged. We didn’t have to worry about money. It’s all very well holding principles and believing you are on the moral high ground. But when the money stops coming in—it was the only way that mum could get back at us—’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Sylvia put her fingers to her lips to prevent her from asking that question, how is your mother?

‘You’ve been very good to us,’ Lucy touched Sylvia’s arm in reassurance. ‘Giving us somewhere to stay when we needed it, and the money.’

‘I’m your grandmother. It’s my privilege.’

‘Now Lydia thinks she is rolling in money with her new friend. Quite honestly, I don’t like her. I think she’s unbalanced.’ She looked over at her grandmother’s clock. ‘I believe with the wrong type of personality; money can be unbalancing.’

‘I’m sure it can.’ Sylvia looked down at her lap. There were many things she was sorry for in her life. Sometimes there is something very destructive in oneself, that desire to destroy, and the first person who came to her mind was her dear Douglas. What a good man he was, and how she had taken him for granted.

‘Lydia is taking drugs; I’m sure of it.’

‘Drugs?’ none of her family had ever taken recreational drugs.

‘Yes, and I believe it’s Olivia who is giving them to her.’ Lucy couldn’t look at her grandmother.

‘Do you still share the flat with Lydia?’

‘Lydia still gives her share of the money for the rent, but she is never there. She attends classes, these are things she never misses, but she never comes home. I fear for her, Grandma. I don’t know who else to talk to about this—and you know I can’t talk to mum.’

‘Have you tried talking to Lydia?’

‘I never get the opportunity. I tried after class, but she looked high. So, I asked her if she was taking something? And she just laughed at me. She thinks it’s a joke. She’s lost weight, and she’s looking dreadful. I don’t want to lose her.’

‘You won’t lose her,’ but even as she said this, Sylvia knew this wasn’t true. Lydia had stopped visiting her six months ago, but she never knew why except that young people grow away wanting to get on with their lives.

‘I don’t know what to do.’ Lucy hugged herself. This was the only form of comfort she had.

She was such a lovely looking girl; the twins were the best thing that had come out of the marriage between Barbara and Adley.

‘She came out of nowhere with all her money, making a beeline for Lydia. And Lydia thinks she’s wonderful. When I told Lydia she had better go cautiously with her, she told me to mind my own business.’ Lucy looked hurt. ‘She had never spoken to me like that before. Of course, we have had our differences, but nothing like this. It hurts immensely. I don’t know how to talk to her anymore, and I miss her.’

‘I don’t know if my having a word with her will do any good?’ suggested Sylvia.

‘With Lydia the way she is, you will only do more harm.’ Lucy looked lost.

‘Do you want to stay here for the night? You are very welcome. You know it’s getting rather late.’ Sylvia’s eyes were still on her granddaughter’s face. Is this the time when you let go of them and allow them to find their own way?

‘I don’t know. I’m worried about Lydia. If she should come home, I want to be there for her.’

‘Do you want me to come home with you?’ she hated to see Lucy so upset.

Looking at her wristwatch, Lucy smiled. ‘It’s late, and I appreciate you being there for me and listening. I had better make my way home.’

‘Lucy, take a cab,’ Sylvia rose as Lucy had done. ‘I’ll pay for it. At least I’ll know you’ll get home safely.’

‘I am twenty-one, Grandma. I like to think of myself as a responsible person, able to take care of myself. I will be fine now mum isn’t practising anymore, so I am not in any danger.’ When Lucy smiled, her eyes brightened. She was, without doubt, a lovely person and someone to be proud of.

‘Yes, it was certainly strange your mother giving up practising law. I thought it was her life; it was what Adley kept telling me. Have you ever thought about asking your mother for help?’ asked Sylvia tentatively.

‘Sometimes in desperation, but no.’ Lucy’s lovely face was quickly drained of kindness. ‘There would have been a time when Lydia might have listened to her, but even with mum’s intervention. No one can get to Lydia. Do you know what? I think if Olivia told her to jump off a bridge, Lydia would oblige.’ She looked so sad, so forlorn. ‘But no, I don’t think she would, not even for Olivia.’ She looked down. ‘I think Lydia is hooked on drugs, and her personality has changed so much.’ And then she shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t know. But Grandma, I must go just in case Lydia comes home.’

‘You will let me know how Lydia is, won’t you?’

‘Yes,’ smiled Lucy, moving across to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. ‘If anything, it has helped by just talking to you. I feel a lot better now, having got it off my chest.’

Sylvia went with Lucy to the door. The sun had not long gone down, and it was still quite warm outside.

‘Have you taken your exams yet?’ asked Sylvia when Lucy was outside in the neon-lit darkness.

‘In another three weeks, so everyone is getting nervous.’

‘I meant to ask you if you still intend to become a barrister?’

‘Yes, it’s what I am cut out to do. My parents were barristers, so I suppose it’s in the blood. Besides, I don’t know what else to do.’

‘And Lydia, do you know if she is going into law?’ Sylvia was still worried.

‘Oh, most definitely. She has always wanted to be a lawyer, always wanted to be like mum. We used to think mum was the most beautiful woman in the world,’ Lucy smiled lamely. ‘But beautiful people are those who are also beautiful inside and not just by appearance.’ Lucy moved off down the path to the black wrought-iron gate. She didn’t want to be pulled into talking about her mother.

‘Take care of yourself, Lucy.’ Sylvia watched as Lucy hurried along the pavement. Her recently cut blonde hair made her look more grown-up, and it affected her attitude. She was not a child anymore; she wanted to be taken seriously.

Closing the door quietly and thoughtfully, Sylvia looked to the staircase. The ghost of her son was waiting at the top.

‘Adley, you should have been here for your daughters. Leaving them with Barbara was not a good idea. You should have been there to advise them. Oh, Adley.’ Sylvia shook her head. How she missed her son and Douglas. Dear old Douglas.

‘Not so much of the old,’ Douglas’s voice filled her mind.

Sylvia smiled. ‘We are old Douglas; well tonight has made me feel old. You always said Lydia took after her mother too much. I don’t know if she does, but she certainly is fighting for her life.’

Perhaps she will have a nightcap tonight? And why not? She didn’t have to be old, even if she was.

Odd, because only the other week, she had bumped into Barbara. A friend had invited her for tea at the Ritz. Such a pleasant surprise coming as a birthday treat. The friend had booked up for the reservation nearly five months ago. One of those things to do, which had been on Sylvia’s checklist. Her hair was done especially for the event, and although it wasn’t formal, she still bought herself a new dress. A light blue dress with a pair of new and rather expensive shoes.

They took a cab to the Ritz, giggling and laughing about the autographs they would have to sign. The tea was delicious, and with the music, well, it was all just a wonderful experience. Thank God for good friends.

‘We will have to do this at least once a year,’ said Janet as she went to the powder room.

‘Yes, of course,’ laughed Sylvia, looking at the scones. Should she have another one? Why not? With an eye on the scone, she looked up to find a pair of sharp blue eyes fixed on her.

My goodness, it was Barbara.

A little nod. Like enemies on the battlefront, they acknowledged each other with the approval of warriors. Yes, I’m still here. And so am I. Well done for surviving. See you again at the front.

The scone was left untouched as Sylvia became conscious of herself. Forgotten at that moment was the happy afternoon. It could never be recaptured when a spiteful reminder steps in.

‘Why don’t we make a date for November?’ Janet had returned and was settling herself down.

‘Yes, that would be nice, but this time, it’s my turn to pay.’ Oh dear, Barbara was listening to her. What on earth was she doing here?

‘No, if we are going to make this a little ritual,’ began Janet. ‘I suggest we go halves. This afternoon has been elegant. I feel like I have dropped back into the twenties between the wars, especially with the music playing in the background. Sylvia, are you all right? Is it the threat of paying?’ Janet laughed.

‘Yes, I’m fine. A ghost from the past has just turned up.’

Janet looked and noticed Barbara. As a good friend of Douglas and Sylvia, she knew something about their history.

‘I see. Do you want a word with her? She looks like she wants to talk to you. I think it might be an idea.’

‘I think I’d better. Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not. I tell you what, I’ll leave now, and you can go over and chat with her. I’ll ring you tonight to find out how things went.’

‘Janet, you are such a great friend.’

‘That’s what friends are for.’ she bent down and gave Sylvia a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Talk to you this evening.’ Janet weaved her way around the tables and out.

Barbara had been leaning her chin on her linked fingers, waiting for Sylvia’s friend to leave. An enigmatic smile was coasting her lips, suggesting that Sylvia should come to her table. The last time they had met was almost two years ago, almost to the very day.

‘I’ll order us some more tea,’ said Barbara when Sylvia took hold of the chair opposite her. ‘Shall I order some more sandwiches and or cakes?’

‘None for me. But please don’t let me stop you.’

‘Oh, Sylvia. You should know me by now that I never indulge in unnecessary food?’ Barbara pulled a face. ‘Haven’t we known each other for long enough?’ Barbara looked up. ‘Some more tea, please,’ she said to the waiter.

Sylvia felt awkward and very uncomfortable, yet curiosity compelled her to find out what her enemy had been up to. Barbara was still smiling, but Barbara’s smile could mean anything. But it usually meant danger.

‘We have a common interest,’ Barbara had taken her study of Sylvia. ‘I would say we are both interested in the girls, wouldn’t you, Sylvia?’

Was this information gathering? Sylvia resisted sharing anything with Barbara.

With merriment, Barbara’s eyes brightened when she realised Sylvia wasn’t going to share. ‘Oh, I see,’ and now she was grinning. ‘I will tell you what I know about them, and then you can consider what you will tell me. Soon, they will be graduating. I have been asked by Lucy to attend, have you?’

A question which was intrusive and unkind.

‘Oh dear, I see you haven’t. What a shame. I thought you would have been the first one they asked, bearing in mind how good you have been to them, and you’re always on their side. But I guess that’s children for you. When it comes to it, they will always turn to their mother, no matter what their parent has done.’

‘What do you want, Barbara?’

A question which needs thinking about. And in that instance, that smug smile had been wiped off her face.

‘No matter what has passed under the bridge, I know I can still talk to you. You will be honest with me, and at this point, it’s something I need.’ Barbara stopped to consider her life. ‘I stopped practising law—though you know that, don’t you, Sylvia?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Sylvia’s reply came with puzzlement.

‘Ah, then you don’t know why. Very well, I shall tell you why. It was because of the girls that I quit practising.’ A quick glance at Sylvia to see how she was receiving this. ‘Oh, I know how I come across. I don’t have that pleasing manner because I can’t pretend to be what I’m not. And so, I’m seen as cold-blooded and perhaps even calculating, but I am not. Logically, that’s how I deal with things by trying to make what appears to be wrong, right. I am just not very good at putting my feelings across. But I can’t be punished for that, or can I?’

Listening was the best way to attend to Barbara. First listen and then act; Barbara’s ideas about the truth were always different and often dangerous. There was one thing which always puzzled Sylvia, and that was why did Barbara give up her career? But as for her daughters; they had never been significant to her until now. Was it possible she could live her career through her daughters? Was this why she needed possession of them now?

Barbara smiled with that stylish pathos of sadness. ‘It was a shock, and I don’t blame my daughters for keeping me out of their lives. I say bravo to them; it has taken courage for them to go without my money when it always insulated them so well.’

‘Get to the point, Barbara.’ she always had to dress her actions up. She always had to be the big star in front of that hidden camera.

‘Yes, you’re right. I do tend to go on, but maybe it’s something to do with being on my own for too long. It’s not easy, is it, Sylvia?’

Her smile was charming and beguiling that she nearly won Sylvia over at that moment. How dangerous Barbara could be.

‘I have found that I have been thinking about the girls a great deal just lately. And it may surprise you to know that I am very proud of them. Oh, by the way, my brother’s dead.’

‘Barbara, I’m so sorry,’ Sylvia was genuinely startled.

‘Yes, he died just like that, two months ago,’ and then she laughed. ‘You cannot blame me for my brother’s death. I was nowhere near him. He was in Germany when it happened. But we never got on, so it’s no big loss. But yes, back to the question of why I gave up practising law. It was the Catherine Mitchell case. I could not allow my daughters’ lives to be put at risk because of my love for the law. Thus, voluntarily, I gave it up.’

Frowning, difficult to believe that Barbara would make this sacrifice even for her daughters.

‘Loneliness, Sylvia—oh yes, friends, I have plenty, but not real friends. And as for my family, I don’t have any time for them.’ She looked down. ‘I never realised how loneliness could break the human spirit.’ She looked up with that gentle smile of mockery. ‘You must know what I am talking about?’

‘Yes, I am afraid I do. But I don’t know what to say to you anymore.’

‘You still blame me for Adley’s death? Well, I suppose someone must be blamed?’ her eyes dreamed in consideration. ‘But I never married after him—’

‘Oh, Barbara, you can never say you really loved him.’ Sylvia couldn’t help the sarcasm.

‘You’re right. I didn’t love him in the beginning. He promised me the impossible, happiness. But actual love, I believe, happens over the years. Love is an extraordinary thing.’ Gently to herself, Barbara smiled. ‘It is gentleness, kindness, and it is to do with understanding. And the most wonderful aspect about it is, it makes you feel beautiful for having loved.’

This was something Sylvia had never thought about, the meaning of love. Her relationship with Douglas was based on warmth and security; they simply loved each other.

‘Did you love Douglas when you first married? Love. What do young people know about love? It’s when you live with someone, day after day, listening and watching them. This is when the sharing of lives happens by finding and learning different things about each other. So, this makes them happy, and this makes them sad. And this is something we like to do together. It’s all those little things which make up love.’ Barbara stopped to consider Sylvia again. ‘Can I never win you over? Can I never become your friend? Will you never forgive me for what happened in the past? It wasn’t my fault.’ Each word was stamped out and framed in anger and frustration. ‘But if you want to blame me, blame me for my youth, my innocence as to know what was going on with Adley, but I cannot be blamed for living my life.’

Uncomfortable with Barbara’s outburst of raw emotions, Sylvia felt suddenly out of her depth. She had always been justified in her ideas about Barbara, but this was a different person Barbara presented before her.

‘Come on, Sylvia, let’s forget about the past. Put the old ghosts and resentments away. Do you really dislike me to that extent?’ now came the time for Sylvia’s answer, but she might wait forever. And so, good-humouredly, she smiled. ‘Let’s be friends for the girls’ sake.’

The cup and saucer were sitting on the white tablecloth. A reality that would forever be a fact. But an hour from now, the cup would disappear, and the one which would sit here tomorrow would not be the same cup and saucer, but it would hold the same fact. Sylvia was staring at her cup and saucer. Over nineteen years of anger and in these five minutes, the past tension had been spent. Is there a time limit to blame, anger, and hatred? Hanging on to it made her feel old and certainly made her unhappy. Tiredness from the fighting and continuous bitterness. What was the point? But even if Barbara had a part in Adley’s suicide, then some responsibility must be his. Something to admit to oneself that in the end, Adley had chosen to kill himself.

2

It was true that she didn’t have any commitments other than the Ritz. This was a fact. But her entire world changed when Barbara told her she came to love Adley when she saw something different. Doubt creeps in about everything. Sylvia had always been convinced that her poor son Adley had been the one to sacrifice his love, life, and everything for Barbara. It was so difficult to believe Barbara was a good and loving person. But here Barbara was telling her what was true and what wasn’t. How could she have got it so wrong?

You know Sylvia, you haven’t; this was Barbara’s side of the story.

‘What about a drink?’ invited Barbara. She had been watching Sylvia. ‘I haven’t been to a proper pub in years. There’s the Clarence nearby,’ she laughed. ‘Of course, when I mean I haven’t been to a pub, sometimes I have to because of business.’ When Barbara smiled, her eyes twinkled with that naughty look of wickedness. ‘Let’s have a couple of drinks together. I feel like a long drink. I wouldn’t mind a pint. Something dark and strong. How about you, Sylvia?’

Incredulous. And again, how did she get it so wrong? Could it be her state of mind? Was loneliness preparing her to accept Barbara, warts as well? Like an alien walking in her own body, everything she felt towards Barbara had been challenged. How on earth did she get it so wrong?

Barbara hailed a black cab to take them to the pub. And still in a dream, Sylvia watched the London life from the cab window. Bits and pieces of people went by; little bits of life recorded by the eye but now never understood. Was she losing it? She turned to Barbara, not understanding who this attractive woman was who sat beside her. Do we change our thoughts about life when we get older? Do we become kinder?

When the cab arrived already people stood chatter outside the pub. They were an advertisement for a good night out by creating a friendly atmosphere. Uncertain, Sylvia stepped out of the car, but not before she saw Barbara hand the driver a fifty-pound note and told him to keep the change. Now, why did Barbara do that? But why then did Barbara grab hold of her arm as if they had been friends for years? This display of friendship was almost embarrassing. Sylvia wanted to shake her off, but she was too polite to do so.

‘You know, I have never seen you drunk, Sylvia. Find a seat, and I’ll get the drinks. What would you like?’

‘A sherry. Perhaps something sweet like Amontillado if they have it.’ Pubs were not Sylvia’s scene.

But Barbara had roared with laughter, which surprised Sylvia.

‘Adley always used to go on about your polite drinking. Sherry at Christmas, always sherry. His dad always liked a good old pint. Sorry, Sylvia, I thought Adley had been joking. I got a picture of you with your pinkie up in the air, squeezing your nose as you drink. Have a proper drink, Sylvia. Have a pint.’

No, she hadn’t wanted a pint, but it was difficult to refuse Barbara. Sitting down and waiting at the table, Barbara returned with two pints.

‘I asked for it to be in nice glasses,’ said Barbara while she made herself comfortable.

Was Barbara teasing her?

The beer wasn’t too bad, but the idea of drinking it choked her femininity, which was something hard to let go of. And yet, the atmosphere was warm and friendly. The hum of people chatting, coming together to share good feelings, was so pleasing that she found herself grateful for taking up Barbara’s invitation.

‘Isn’t this fun?’ said Barbara.

Sylvia acknowledged. But she wasn’t going to make a habit of it. This was one day in a lifetime when she would find out something about this mystery woman.

‘Giving up law was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Of course, with everything, there are regrets. It was my life, and the only thing I had ever wanted was to have a career in law and be successful. But when that decision came along for me to choose, there was no choice—I had to give it up. It was either the girls or my career, and I chose the girls. I hope it was for the best.’ She shrugged. But what was the point of regret? ‘But there was a fun part to it, and that was adapting and changing and making the best of these changes.’

Had loneliness really moved in with Barbara, Sylvia sipped and put down her glass.

When Barbara was chatty and friendly, she made you feel good. As if you were the most interesting person in her life. But then that was Barbara, making friends but never keeping them.

‘And so, I gave up law. It was a shock for everyone when I told them I would no longer be practising.’ she held up her hand as if there was an invisible document in her clasp. ‘I said to one of the partners. I’ve had my day in the courtroom, so I’m quitting the game. You should have seen his face. He said to me, but you can’t. You are one of the best barristers in the UK; you’ve only just started your career. He begged me to stay.’ She laughed. ‘He said he would pay me double, treble, even.