Evette had her head cocked to one side and was nodding calmly, a look of concern and non-judgment on her face; Star surmised this was her professional expression and she was grateful for it.
“Okay, Patrick.” Evette’s voice was smooth like the sea on a calm day. “There’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s take one thing at a time and then we can see how best to help you. Why don’t you start by telling us what happened with Joe?”
Patrick nodded, clearly soothed by Evette’s calm demeanor. He took a deep breath and began.
“You know we’re going to lose the house, right?”
“Did your mum tell you that?” asked Star.
“No.” Patrick looked down at his hands. He was picking at his nails, which were already bitten down to the quick. “I found the eviction letters. I was angry and confronted Mum about it.”
Star whistled out a breath at the ceiling. “Your mum was trying to protect you and Verity; you do understand that, don’t you?” She had a horrible feeling that Patrick would not have taken Maggie’s deception in the way it was intended.
He squirmed on the chair. “I do. Now. I didn’t at first. I don’t need to be treated like a kid.”
“Perhaps you should stop behaving like one, then,” said Simone.
Patrick looked up at his aunts, and for a moment Star wondered if he might take offense, but he only nodded and went back to his stubby fingernails.
“That’s pretty much what Ma said too,” he said.
“What happened when you confronted your mum about the letters?” Evette asked, her voice soft.
Patrick avoided eye contact. “I didn’t handle it as well as I could,” he replied.
“That would explain why Maggie was a no-show last night,” said Simone, looking at Star.
“We argued and I blurted out what I’d found out about Joe.”
“Wait, what you’d found out about Joe?” Simone asked, puzzled.
Patrick sighed. “Our landlord is Joe’s uncle. Joe works for him. Or he did until a few months ago.”
“What does that mean?” asked Star.
“I thought he was being paid to infiltrate the household, like an undercover operative or something.”
“Have you been watching James Bond?” asked Star. She was having trouble picturing Joe as a spy. “And you found all this out how?”
“There’s a photo of him on the landlord’s website. ‘Our family helping your family to find your perfect home,’ or some such bollocks.”
“Shit!” said Simone.
“My intuition knew something was wrong,” Star said.
“So Joe was a spy?” asked Duncan.
“No, but I didn’t know that then.”
“What then?” asked Simone.
“I told her Joe was using her to get her out of the building. We had a row. A big one. Joe was there. Then he and Mum had a row.”
“Patrick!” Star exclaimed. His head snapped up, his eyes pleading. Evette held up her hand for quiet.
Betty stepped forward. “What did you say? What’s that about an eviction notice?”
Simone turned with what was clearly going to be a “Not now, Betty” sentence, but Star stopped her, with a gentle hand on her arm.
“Maggie’s being evicted. She’s got until January thirty-first to vacate the building and then it’s being turned into a boutique hotel,” she said.
Betty’s eyes took on a squinty look as she absorbed this news. All eyes focused back on Patrick, who was wringing his hands nervously.
“And what’s the situation with your mum now, Patrick?” Evette asked.
He took a shaky breath. “Mum threw Joe out. Now she won’t stop crying. I couldn’t get her to come out of her room this morning.”
“You did the right thing coming here,” soothed Evette.
“After the horse had already bolted,” muttered Simone. “I’ll go over there and check on her.” She shot a daggered look at Patrick, which made him shrink into his chair. In that moment he looked much younger than his twenty years, despite the beard and bravado. He looked like his mum around the eyes, and Star found herself torn between wanting to coddle him and wanting to throttle him.
“It’s worse than that,” said Patrick quietly.
“How can it be worse?” Star asked exasperatedly.
“Joe was on our side. I mean, he was kind of a double agent but in our favor.”
“How?” asked Simone.
“I went over to the Rowan Tree Inn, just now. I wanted to talk to Troy.”
“Troy?” asked Star, surprised.
“I wanted to talk to a bloke, okay? Sometimes I just need to talk man-to-man with someone. I spotted Gilbert in there having a full English breakfast with some big blokes in suits. I couldn’t believe he was here, in Rowan Thorp. He was moaning about his ‘good-for-nothing nephew’ who was making life hard for him. Trying to block his plans for the hotel and get him to let us stay. He’s come down to have it out with Joe, face-to-face.”
“Christ on a bike!” exclaimed Simone.
“I don’t think there’s much love lost between them,” Patrick went on.
“If I might be allowed to interpose,” Betty began, in a tone that implied she was going to whether she was allowed or not, “I think you’ll find this Gilbert fella doesn’t have the right to turn the building into a boutique hotel.”
“That’s not really our main concern at the moment, Betty,” Simone said a little snappishly.
“I beg to differ,” Betty challenged.
Simone huffed out a breath. “Whether he turns the place into a hotel or a bloody casino doesn’t change the fact that he owns the property and is evicting our sister. I’ve a good mind to go over there myself and give him a rollicking.”
“He owns the leasehold,” Betty replied simply.
“What difference does that make?” Simone’s voice was rising, but Evette motioned at her to be quiet.
“Go on, Betty,” Evette urged.
“Gilbert owns the lease but not the freehold. The freehold is owned by the North estate.”
There was a stunned silence, which felt as though it might stretch on indefinitely. Finally, Star asked, “How do you know this, Betty?”
Betty sniffed and jutted out her chin. “I am a member of the Rowan Thorp chapter of the Women’s Institute, it’s my business to know. And if you North girls hadn’t been so flippin’ secretive about the eviction, I could have stepped in before any of this nonsense.” She cast a reproachful look at Star and Simone, who quelled beneath her gaze. “For heaven’s sake! I’ve known you all since you were babes in arms. Why in god’s name didn’t any of you come to me?”
“Sorry, Betty,” said Star, rubbing the toe of her boot along the flagstone floor.
“Yes, sorry, Betty,” added Simone in a tone so meek that Evette did a double take.
“Well then.” Betty smoothed down her apron. “I’ll call an emergency meeting of the WI and let’s see if we can sort this out. Gilbert and his cronies are still in the pub, you say?” Patrick nodded. “We need to keep them there. You, young man, Duncan. Get yourself over there and tell Troy what’s going on. Tell him it’s imperative that Gilbert doesn’t leave.”