Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels (20 page)

He had been surprised at how easy it was to talk to her.  They’d chatted about all and sundry: school, grades, all the usual stuff to start with, then she’d told him about her friends, how immature she thought they could be in their attitude to boys.  The ones who were already in serious relationships, and how stupid she thought it was to start something physical with someone, when you didn’t even know if they were ‘The One’.  That had really surprised him; they had always brought the girls up to respect their own bodies – or at least Evie had told him she often talked to the girls along those lines – but there was no accounting for what teen hormones might lead them to do in the heat of the moment.  Again he had been surprised just how easily she told him all this, as in the past such discussions had been solely Evie’s preserve, and he felt very privileged that she should open up to him.  She was growing up, his little girl.  What a wonderful young woman she was turning into, and how lovely it was that she felt she could talk to him like this.  It was a new development in their relationship.

They fell into companionable silence, Immy curled up beside her father.  Then out of the blue she said: ‘Dad, why did you do it?’  He didn’t need to ask what she meant. 

‘Actually, Immy, I don’t really know.  I suppose it was some kind of mid-life crisis.  But it was the most stupid, the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.  If I could go back and do last year all over again, then I would, and boy, would I do it differently.  I was
so
stupid, Immy.  And I’m so sorry I hurt you so much.’

‘I forgive you, Dad.’  Tears sprang to his eyes.  He couldn’t have hoped for his daughter to say anything better. 

‘Oh Immy, I do love you,’ he said, as she threw her arms around his neck.

‘So, Dad, is it OK if I go into town tonight?’ she asked, pulling back from him a little.

‘Don’t push it, love,’ he replied, and the pair of them collapsed into giggles. 

Suddenly Imogen felt she didn’t really want to go out anymore.

James was washing up from lunch; no one else was in the kitchen.  Grace thought it was as good a time as any to nab him for a chat.  Things had been festering in her mind now for a couple of days; she just didn’t quite know how to broach it with him.

‘Is everything OK, James?’ she asked.  It was a two-headed question.  She knew James had spoken to his contact at the hospital, and she and Tom were desperate to know if he’d found out anything, but at the same time didn’t like to keep nagging, especially as James was doing them a favour by asking people to divulge information they probably shouldn’t.  Secondly, Grace felt she ought somehow to let James know that, not only had she overheard his conversation the other morning, but that she had also seen him – and now she was convinced that it
was
him – unloading something from the back of that van in the depths of the night.  She had tried to stay awake the night after she heard him on the phone, hoping she would see what was going on, but had failed miserably, which probably had something to do with the late night and large amounts of alcohol of the previous evening.

‘Course.  Why?  Oh, that.  I haven’t heard anything yet, Grace, sorry,’ James replied, answering one part of her question at least.  She didn’t really expect that he would have had news from his friend at the hospital and not told them. 

She thought James sounded slightly on the defensive; quite clearly something was going on that he wasn’t prepared to reveal.  She needed to know more.  She was worried about Evie, and what it would do to her, especially as she now seemed to be finding faith in her husband once more.

‘Well, I thought I saw you the other night,’ she began.  ‘Last week.  Heck, this is awkward.  I thought I saw you in the night, unpacking something from a van, and then, well, you were on the phone the other morning talking about ‘making the drop’ and…  James, you’re not mixed up in something funny are you?’

‘Oh, Grace.’ James laughed, slightly nervously.  ‘Of course I’m not.’  Should she believe him?  James was a great salesman and could talk the talk and put on a good act when it suited him.  ‘There’s nothing you need to worry about.  Can you just bear with me for a few days?  And don’t worry about me, really.’  He looked her in the eye and rubbed her arm, in an attempt to placate her.

‘Now you have got me worried.  What’s happening in a few days?’

‘Just wait and see, all will be revealed.  But for now, my lovely, not a word of this to Evie, OK?  I can’t have her thinking something’s going on, when it’s not.’

Grace really wanted to believe him that it was nothing untoward, but reading between the lines, who wouldn’t interpret something bad from what he’d just said?  Well, he hadn’t said anything really, had he?  He’d succeeded in totally evading all questions and actually made her more concerned than she was before.  Oh, God, what was she supposed to do?  She knew she’d have to confide in Tom about this, or she’d burst.

‘Yeah, he said he wasn’t up to anything and told me not to worry.  But he’s clearly doing something he shouldn’t, Tom, behind Evie’s back, too.  I just hope to God it’s not like before.  Do you think you should have a word with him?’  Tom was by the pool, with his nose in a book whilst the twins splashed in the water.  Evie and James had just gone out to get some shopping and Ana and Immy were holed up in front of the TV, having a break from the sun.

‘Tricky, isn’t it?’ Tom replied.  ‘I wouldn’t want him to think we suspected him of something, but, well, it does look odd, doesn’t it?  And then there was that bloke.  The one who kissed Evie.  A bit coincidental him popping up in the restaurant the other night, and knowing Pascal too, isn’t it?  And, I haven’t told you this, but I caught James talking to him in the bar in town last week.  James said he was just some tourist, asking for directions, but they were chatting away, Grace, like they had something more serious to discuss.  When I came back to the table, this guy made a quick exit and James wouldn’t look me in the eye afterwards.  Something’s going on, but you’re right, we don’t want to go barging in there and accusing him of something, when it might all be totally innocent.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’  She rounded on her husband.  ‘God, Tom, you knew I was worried, and there I was, thinking I was imagining it all.  He is up to something, isn’t he?’

‘Calm down, love.  No point having a go at me about it, is there?  I hadn’t worked out who he was when I saw him at the bar, and then when he turned up at the restaurant it all fell into place.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be snappy.  But I’m worried about them.  They’re our friends, Tom, and they just seemed to be getting everything sorted again.  Only now I’m not so sure.  So, what do we do?’

‘Well, I suppose we can do one of two things.  Either we confront him and make him tell us what’s going on, or we take his word that ‘all will be revealed’, like he says.’ Grace wasn’t sure her nerves would cope with having to wait.

Tom chose his moment later that evening to ask James about the man at the bar.

‘So, that guy at the bar the other day, the one asking you for directions, do you remember?  Bit of a strange coincidence going on here, mate, isn’t there?  I mean, he turns up at the restaurant – and seems to be a friend of Pascal’s – and then Grace, and quite clearly your wife, recognise him as the man who kissed her at the service station.  Bit odd, isn’t it, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah, funny sometimes, just what a small world it is, isn’t it?  Nothing to worry about, old pal, I’m sure it’s nothing more than a coincidence.  You and Grace need to stop imagining I’m up to something, when I’m not.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  But it’s a nice thing, and you have to trust me.  It’s something you’re all going to be pleased about, only I can’t say what yet.’

James smiled at the perplexed expression on his friend’s face. 

‘Seriously, Tom, don’t worry. I can’t tell you any more.  Simple as that.  You’ll just have to wait and see.  And try and trust me a little more, won’t you?  Last year was a bad time, I’m not exactly going to go and get myself into a mess like that again, now, am I?’

‘Yeah, course mate, sorry, it’s just that, well, Grace thought she saw you and then she overheard this conversation and…  But obviously she’s putting two and two together and making five.  Sorry, James, we won’t say any more.  Sounds like we will have to leave you alone and let you do what you need to do, and yes, I do trust you.  But you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?’

‘Yep, quite understand.  But honestly, you’re best not knowing.’

That wasn’t exactly the best thing to say to make Tom feel trusting of his friend, but he knew he needed to let it drop.  Oh God, what was going on?  He was no closer to making his mind up one way or the other about James.  But it looked like he and Grace
were
just going to have to go with the flow for the last couple of days of the holiday, and hope for the best.

‘God, it’s a mess, Evie, isn’t it?’  There were still a couple of paparazzi camped outside Evie’s house, but Grace had managed to dodge past them and get to the front door unchallenged.  The mess she was referring to was the large article in that day’s Sun, amongst others, which lay on the counter in front of her friend.  The ‘Red Tops’ seemed to be having a field day with the story, most of which, typically of the tabloid press, was exaggerated, but always with an element of ambiguity so as to avoid claims of libel.

‘Society Millionairess in Money Laundering Scandal,’ read the headline.  ‘Businesswoman Naomi Bransford, daughter of John Bransford, the disgraced former minister, claims her newly-signed Financial Advisor, James Brookes, owner of Financial Futures, a Worcestershire based business, invited her to stash her cash in an offshore ‘shell’ company, akin to that used by the comedian, Jimmy Carr.

‘‘I saw right through what he was trying to do,’ claims Ms Bransford.  ‘Quite clearly he was trying to get me to do something illegal, but I’m an honest businesswoman, I pay my taxes, just like the next woman.’  Brookes was seen at Annabel’s with Ms Bransford only last week.  Brookes, who is married with two teenage daughters, denies that he had a relationship with Bransford and claims that their association is purely professional.’ 

Naomi was never one to shirk a photo opportunity, always making sure she was centre stage whenever there was a camera snapping.  True to form, the photo accompanying the article showed her leaving Annabel’s, in the forefront of the picture, and if you looked very closely, James could just about be seen towards the back of the photo, in the shadows behind her.  The photo caption of course played this up
–
‘Brookes and Bransford leaving Annabel’s together last week.’  Hardly together, Grace thought, hating the press who took a story and twisted it until they got what they wanted.  Despite what James had put Evie through on a personal level, she really wanted to believe that he wasn’t also a crooked businessman on top of it all.  She just couldn’t get her head round that.  He wouldn’t be silly enough to risk his whole livelihood in the name of a dodgy deal, would he?

‘So where is he now?’ Grace asked.

‘Staying in a hotel in town, keeping a low profile.  I went to see him this morning.  That lot out there, those idiots, they didn’t follow me, thank God.’

‘So what did he have to say for himself?  What’s all this about money laundering?  That can’t be true, can it?  Surely he’s got too much sense to do something like that?’

‘Well, he says
she
was the one looking for a tax loophole of some sort.  He thinks she might have thought that a provincial adviser would be more lax about taking short cuts, instead of one of these big, high profile companies in London.  I did think James was an odd choice for her to use, when she lives down there.  But James is a brilliant adviser, but he’s never done anything that’s not strictly above board, well, not as far as I know, and you can’t help doubting, when something like this comes up, can you?  I just have to go on what I know about him, and I know that he didn’t condone any of that stuff with the celebrities recently, it’s not his sort of thing.  He’s great at finding good legal ways to save his clients money, but he’d never encourage them to actively
dodge
their liabilities.  It’s just not him. 

‘Apparently she was badgering him to set up some kind of scheme, around the time they had the… affair.  It’s clearly why she seduced him.  Get him wrapped round her little finger first, to the point where he’d do anything for her, turn a blind eye to the law, even.  But when he told her he’d made a mistake and that their… fling… was over, then she turned on him.  She’s the one behind all these articles.  She’s gone to the press with this story
–
and let’s face it, isn’t there always some story or another hanging around her?  They’d happily jump on anything she’s involved with as it sells papers.  She’s trying to stitch him up out of spite because he’s refusing to be her little plaything.  That woman is toxic, she just rides roughshod over everyone, their families, their livelihoods, everything.  As long as she gets what she wants, that’s all that seems to matter.  I wish we’d never set eyes on her, really I do.  We were doing fine before all this. OK, so business wasn’t exactly booming through the recession, but we were doing alright, we were managing, we hadn’t had to let anyone go.  We’d have been fine without her.  And now all we’ve got is this bad publicity.  It could ruin us.’

Evie sat back in her chair, exhausted.  Poor thing, Grace thought.  She wished there was something she could do, but at the moment things seemed to be getting worse, not better.  With the affair now firmly in the past, and James wanting to move on
–
with his wife and family by his side
–
she thought things would start to improve for them.  But now this.  And Naomi’s affinities with the press meant that every move James made was now going to be splashed across the papers. 

‘God, Evie, it’s a nightmare.  And that lot out there all the time, too.  How are the girls coping?  Would they like to come and stay with us for a few days?  You too, if you’d like to?  You’d be very welcome.’

‘That’s really kind, thank you, but I reckon they’ll just follow us, don’t you?  We’d just be moving our problems onto your doorstep, and you don’t need that.  The girls are fine, they’ve decided to board for the last few days of term and keep out of the way.  I just hope to goodness no one says anything to them at school, you know how bitchy girls can get.  They don’t need some bright spark asking what their dad has been up to.  We’ve been honest about them with the details, or at least as much as we can bring ourselves to tell them, so that they are prepared, if anyone says anything.  They shouldn’t have to go through something like this, though.  I can’t begin to tell you how awful it was having to go over it all with them.  It was bad enough having to tell them about the affair, and then all this, too.  James will be lucky if either of them ever speak to him again, I reckon.  Especially if they get hassle from their friends over it, too.  For teenage girls, the worst thing is what other people think of you.’

‘Oh God, Evie, I’m so sorry.  Well, the offer to come to us stands, for as long as you need it.  Whenever you want.’

‘Thank you.  That’s really kind.  It’s good to know you’re just around the corner if I need you.  Hopefully in a few days it’ll all blow over and they’ll move onto the next big story.  This isn’t such a big story in the great scheme of things.  We just need lots of medals in Glasgow and some photos of Prince George’s first birthday, and then they’ll have something new to write about, won’t they?  Honestly, Grace, the press in this country, they’re a bloody disgrace.’

‘So what’s James going to do now?  Is he coming back here?’ Grace asked.

‘Well, I want him to.  More for solidarity than anything.  I’m not deciding yet what I’m doing about ‘us’ but I think it looks better if we present a united front, certainly on the business side of things.  And it would be better for the girls, too.  He can’t go to work, business is suspended whilst the Financial Conduct Authority investigates, so we’ve got all that to get through before we know what’s going on.  We can’t even take any money out of the business, and James isn’t allowed anywhere near the office.  Maybe they think he might hide something, delete some files or whatever.  But there isn’t anything for them to find, and it’s crazy, but we’ve just got to stick it out until they are satisfied there’s nothing untoward.  While he’s at home at least he can get in touch with all our existing clients and reassure them there’s nothing to worry about.  And then we’ll just have to hope they stay on board.  Most of them he’s known for years, so fingers crossed they will.  If they pull out, then we’re stuffed, basically.  I just hope they all realise it’s total fabrication.’

‘Oh, Evie, that’s awful.  It won’t come to that, I’m sure.’  But she couldn’t help being worried about her friend.  First her husband’s infidelity, then an attack on their business, it was too much, she shouldn’t have to cope with it all.  Not on her own; Grace would make sure she was always there whenever she was needed.

‘It’s odd, isn’t it, that she should do all this, create so much trouble?  What on earth is she trying to achieve?’ Evie said. 

‘God only knows.  And then there’s her own husband, I mean, where does he feature in it all?’ said Grace.  ‘If I were him, I think I’d just make a run for the hills before she made an even bigger fool out of me.  I wouldn’t be hanging about to see what she did next.’

‘She’s crazy.  Self-obsessed.  One of these people who thinks any kind of publicity is good publicity.  Doesn’t care who she treads on to get what she wants.  Oh, Grace, when is this ever going to end?’

Grace was adamant that Sophie wasn’t going to be allowed to ruin the rest of this holiday for them, and as for the rest of their lives, well, let the woman try, and she would see just what she was up against with Grace. 

Sophie could take a hike, as far as Grace was concerned, sling her hook, take a running jump, fall off a cliff.  It was fighting talk, but Grace had seen how the whole thing had affected Tom over the past few days and so she had decided to take matters into her own hands and do a little detective work herself.  All this sitting around waiting for news to arrive from James’ friend at the hospital was killing her.  There was nothing worse than inactivity for making your mind play tricks on you and imagine the worst.  Action was what was required, or she failed to see how the rest of the holiday could possibly be enjoyed. 

They were supposed to be having a relaxing break, and it had worked for the first week, without a cloud on the horizon, in both real and metaphorical senses.  Now it all seemed a dim and distant memory, as they found themselves in the midst of a potential paternity scandal, as well as worrying about just what it was that James was mixed up in.  Grace’s concern for Evie was mounting again, especially as Evie seemed to think her marriage was getting back on track.  She just hoped her friend wasn’t being made a fool of a second time round.

It hadn’t been difficult getting hold of the phone numbers; Tom never used a security code on his mobile, so she waited till he was in the shower and looked up Sophie’s numbers as his phone lay unattended on their bed.  She scribbled down Sophie’s mobile and office numbers, hoping the latter hadn’t changed in the past six years.

‘Yes, hello, is this Miss Simmonds?’  If luck was on her side, then Sophie still used her maiden name at work.  It seemed she did. 

‘No, I’m sorry, but Miss Simmonds is out of the office at the moment.  Can I help at all?’ replied the young-sounding female voice.

‘Are you her assistant?’ Grace said.  ‘I do actually need to speak to Miss Simmonds.  Can you give me an idea of when she’ll be back?’  She had bargained on Sophie not being there, and not having to speak to her on the phone.  After all, if her son was sick, she would be off work and at his bedside, wouldn’t she?

‘Oh, she’s just popped out for lunch, she should be back by two,’ replied the voice.  So, not off work then.  First surprise.

‘That’s great, thank you,’ said Grace.  Then, pushing her luck a little further: ‘I suppose she’s missed rather a lot of time lately, what with one thing and another?’

The girl sounded surprised.  ‘Um, er, no, not as far as I know.  Sorry, madam, what did you say your name was?  Would you like to leave a message for Sophie?’  She was starting to sound a little insistent.

‘Oh, no, it’s OK, thank you, I’ll call back another time.’  She hung up quickly before the girl could grill her any further.

Grace sat down on the bed and smiled to herself.  Phew, she’d survived the first call.  She wondered how private investigators coped with all the adrenalin pumping through their veins; her heart was pounding and her hands were still shaking.  Pretending to be someone you weren’t was hard work.  She hadn’t scripted the call, it had been impossible to, as she had no idea who would answer the phone, or even if Sophie would.  But she hadn’t, and that poor girl had unwittingly helped reinforce the idea in Grace’s head that Sophie was lying.  Surely with a child that sick, you would be by their side, wouldn’t you?  Not still at work – and quite clearly in work most of the time, if not all of it.  Sophie
was
lying, Grace was quite sure of it now.  She wouldn’t mind betting there wasn’t even a son at all, let alone a sick one.  All that, from just one tiny phone call. 
Just call me Miss Marple,
she thought to herself.

Feeling full of bravado, she fancied her chances at another call.  Tom was safely ensconced by the pool with Lily and Jack, and wouldn’t be coming in to surprise her any time soon.  There was no doubt he wouldn’t approve.  The coast was clear, so she took a deep breath and dialled Sophie’s mobile number.

‘Hello?’ Sophie answered the call, even though Grace had made doubly sure her number was withheld.  Grace’s heart was pounding again.  She hoped it wasn’t audible on the other end of the line.

‘Hello, Madam,’ Grace began, sounding braver than she actually felt.  ‘This is Polly Porter, calling from the Medical Care Company.’  She found herself adopting a posher than normal voice, in an attempt to disguise her own, not that Sophie would have known her voice, anyway.  It was the sort of voice this Polly Porter (where on earth did that name spring from?) would have been proud of.  Lovely round vowels, and well-articulated consonants.  Polly couldn’t possibly speak with Grace’s slightly strange mix of Estuary and Midlands accents.  Oh no, she’d been to finishing school, our Polly had.