The Divorce Club (32 page)

"Fine." She sits up straight and clears her
throat. "Patrick McDonaghue is my employer's husband. He chatted up
my friend here—" she points at me "—while we were on a drunken
night out with her boyfriend."

Huh? "My—"

"Jamie," Mindy continues, interrupting me,
"who's also a client of Mister Andrews'. Anyway, Patrick tried to
hook up with Sarah, but she brushed him off."

The officer starts drumming her fingers on
the table. "Can we get to the blackmail part here, please? We
haven't got all day."

Mindy takes a deep breath, her lips curl into
a pout. "Fine, whatever. The truth is, my employer has been
accusing Patrick of cheating for a while, so I assume she's the one
blackmailing him. He must've thought Sarah set him up. What a load
of rubbish, huh?" She laughs. I join in, but it sounds fake in my
ears.

"It does sound a bit far-fetched, but I'll
the boyfriend to provide an alibi and confirm your story," the
officer says.

Keith plants his hands in front of her,
staring her down again. "James Bowers, the
boyfriend
, is a
successful business executive with a prestigious firm in Central
London. I'm more than happy to call him over, but given his busy
schedule he won't be so happy to hear from me—or you, for that
matter." Keith starts scribbling on a sheet of paper and pushes it
across the table toward her. "Go on, ask him whether he accompanied
Miss Davis to a club last night, and then stop wasting my clients'
time. You know without proof this accusation will go nowhere and
you can't keep her here."

The officer takes out her phone and dials
reluctantly, her eyes darting about like those of a scared kitten.
She talks into the receiver quickly. I hold my breath, listening to
her asking Jamie several questions. There's silence for a short
moment, then she apologizes for the inconvenience and hangs up.

"I'll still need to get his story in
writing." She turns back to face me. "We'll have to call you back
in."

"No." Keith shakes his head. "You call
me
and I'll inform my client. In the meantime, have a good
one." He grabs me by my elbow and drags me out of the building. As
soon as we're outside he whispers, "Now, I need you to tell me the
truth. What did you do to make the rich snob so pissed off at you?
And don't say nothing because no rich guy would go to such trouble,
risking media exposure, for nothing."

So I underestimated him. Keith Andrews is a
good lawyer who knows human nature better than I do.

"Let's grab a cup of coffee. I'll explain on
the way." Mindy pulls him aside, calling over her shoulder, "Go get
some sleep, Sarah. We'll call you tomorrow. And sorry about this
mess. I promise I'll fix it."

I nod and look around for a cab, eager to
return to the privacy of my bed. It's not every day a girl gets
cheated, lied to and accused of blackmail, all in a matter of
hours. A black cab stops in front of me. I open the door when I
remember something. This is my chance, so I signal the driver to
hold on and turn around. "Mister Andrews! Keith?"

"Yes?" There's a questioning look on his
face, but by no means unfriendly.

I take a deep, steadying breath. "At the
hospital, you said Jamie sent you. Was it true?"

He nods. "He asked me to offer you
money."

"Right." My shoulders slump. When Jamie
stated he didn't send Keith, I guess it was all lies.

Keith inches closer. Hesitation crosses his
pale face as though he's struggling whether to reveal more. "Your
business isn't going very well. He said you'd never take the money
if I didn't make it sound like a legal matter."

"He didn't want to buy my silence? He thought
I needed the money?" With Chloe out of the picture, now it all
makes sense. I feel like laughing and crying at the same time.
Sure, a lie's a lie, but considering the circumstances I might've
done the same for my friends. "This has got to be the worst plan
ever."

Keith winks, the slightest hint of a smile
crossing his features. "I told him so, but he wouldn't listen."

For some reason, I hope Jamie's there when I
get home, but he isn't. My heart drops as I open the door and find
Greg in the hall, staring at me accusingly.

I groan. "Go away."

"How could you drag our daughter's happiness
into that business of yours?" He takes a menacing step forward,
poking a finger into my chest. "Taking your
clients
on
business trips with your daughter sleeping nearby is bad enough.
But meeting guys in a bar, what sort of mother would do that? I
don't know who you are any more."

Huh? I shake my head, all happiness from
finding out Jamie meant well with some of his lies evaporating into
thin air.

"I called the police and they told me
everything," Greg yells. "What were you thinking?"

"No. They told you what they think happened
because some moron, like you, couldn't keep it in his pants." I
narrow my eyes, scanning him up and down so he feels my disdain.
"You should be the last person to judge me, Greg, but I won't go
into detail here because I'm sick of playing the blame game."

He scoffs.

I continue, "I knew about you and your
mistress long before you told me. Yet, I remained quiet for Sam's
sake. The only reason why I'd like to keep you in my life is that
she needs a father, even if it's a crappy one like you." I pause
for effect. He doesn't seem too affected by what I have to say
though. "You don't seem to realize that's a privilege. Please leave
now."

"Sarah." He grabs my arm. "If I leave now,
I'll never come back."

Yanking my arm free, I open my mouth to speak
when I realize Sam's standing in the doorway, staring at us. No
child should witness a scene thick with so much acrimony and
hostility. For Sam's sake, I curl my lips into a smile. "Why don't
you stay for dinner?"

Greg follows my line of vision. The sudden
grin on his face looks probably just as fake as mine. "But only if
you promise to behave. I think this is yours." He reaches into his
pocket and retrieves what looks like a check. I stare at the
amount. It doesn't cover the past few months, but it's a start.

As he walks past I whisper, "Nothing's
changed between us. I'd still kick you out if I could."

He smiles and grabs Sam in a hug, lifting her
off the ground and spinning her in an awkward circle. I laugh with
her because I know if I don't, I might just burst into tears.

"Mum?" Sam turns to face me, her eyes shining
with seriousness. That instant, I realize my baby's slowly turning
into a woman.

"Yes, sweetie?"

She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.
"You should call Jamie. What he did wasn't so bad, you know?"

"He lied," I whisper, my chest
constricting.

"He wanted to tell you in France." She winks.
"It's not his fault you didn't listen."

My jaw drops. "You knew?" How come he
confided in my daughter, but not in me?

She nods. "He made me promise I wouldn't tell
you before he got a chance."

I don't know what to say except that I should
be angry with her for keeping his secret, but I can't.

"You can date him. I won't be angry," Sam
continues.

Pulling her close, I wrap my arms around her
and cuddle her head against my chest as I whisper, "Thank you."

She shrugs and pulls away, a soft smile
playing on her lips. She may slowly be turning into a woman, but to
me she still looks like a little angel and I hope that won't change
any time soon.

I want to call Jamie so badly that it hurts,
so I prepare dinner and decide to skip it, heading for the privacy
of my bedroom. My fingers hover over the receiver as my mind comes
up with countless excuses why making a move isn't such a good idea
after all. Granted, I might've overreacted a little and it
is
my fault we aren't on speaking terms, but I can't bring
myself to initiate contact. What am I supposed to say? That I
turned into a bitter, man-hating witch and that he was right all
this time? I know I have become wary of anything male coming my
way, and yet I can't seem able to admit it just yet.

Sighing, I switch on the computer and start
working on the next meeting's lessons. I've barely managed to put
down a few words and my mind's drifting away already.

***

The next morning, Keith Andrews calls to
inform me Patrick McDonaghue has dropped all charges because of a
'misunderstanding'. Keith doesn't fail to mention that Jamie's firm
is a business partner of McDonaghue's. I hang up the phone with
mixed feelings. Am I supposed to send chocolates and a thank-you
note now? I decide to leave a message for Mel and then go about the
household chores: doing the laundry, cleaning after Sam and Greg,
and finally preparing lunch and dinner so I won't have to do it
before I leave for the club. Frankly, it's all turned up like it
was before with the exception of a job. I can't say I'm happy.

For the first time since opening the club,
I'm late. As I pull the car in the parking space, the lights are
already switched on. Mel must've opened shop for me tonight. Then I
realize I gave Shannon a key since she's my new employee, which
leaves me with exactly two clients: Lucy and Mindy. After the
McDonaghue disaster who knows how things stand with the latter.

"Sorry I couldn't get here faster. The
traffic was crowded." I hang up my coat and peer in.

"Don't worry," Shannon says, handing me a cup
of coffee. "I hope you don't mind I didn't wait for you."

"Not at all." I smile and grab my coffee,
warming up my freezing hands.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Mindy asks.
I nod and lead her to the kitchen, dread settling in the pit of my
stomach because I sense what she has to say.

Smiling, she takes a breath. "I didn't get
the chance to tell you I'm sorry for what happened."

I nod even though I'd like to point out that
she could've squeezed in an apology after we left the police
station. A phone call wouldn't have hurt either. "The guy dropped
the charges. Jamie sorted it all out." Even saying his name is
painful.

"That stunt yesterday got me thinking.
Remember what you said at
McDonald's
?" Mindy's gaze meets
mine. I try to look as though I know what she's talking about. She
laughs uncomfortably. "You said this situation isn't healthy for
me, and you were right."

"She fired you. I'm so sorry." I grab her
hands because I feel awful. Without a proper reference Mindy might
not find the kind of job she wants.

"No." She shakes her head. "I quit."

My jaw drops. "Why would you do such a thing?
I thought you needed the experience."

Mindy shrugs. "I'm way too good for that old
witch. I found out she's just as cheating and manipulative as
Patrick. She wanted to have pictures of him because he has some of
her and her lovers, and she feared he'd go public if she didn't
agree to his divorce terms."

"She dragged you into her dirty laundry
without telling you the truth. That's mean."

"Anyway, I've ripped the pictures to shreds
and then told her to look for someone else to help her with her
schemes," Mindy says. "If it wasn't for you to open my eyes, I
wouldn't have realized my job duties had nothing to do with those
of a real personal assistant."

"What are you doing to do now?"

Mindy smiles. For a moment her eyes light up.
"I'll follow your example and set up my own agency."

"Good for you." I don't want to point out
that my own agency might close soon if I don't find new
clients.

For a moment, we just smile at each other.
Mindy seems to be mentally preparing for breaking the big news. I
feel bad for myself, but I feel even worse for her. She might've
tried to manipulate me into doing some stupid things, yet holding a
grudge against a friend's the last thing on my mind.

"I guess you won't need my services any more,
huh?" I nudge. She nods as though a heavy burden has just been
lifted off her shoulders. I wink. "Come on. You've got to say
goodbye to the others. I bet they'll miss you."

We've barely reached the living room when the
doorbell rings. I hurry to open, stunned to see a middle-aged guy
clad in a cheap business suit.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

"I'm Prishan Patel from your local council.
You were reported for running a counseling business for which you
don't have a license."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I'm sure I
didn't forget to get a license. Or did I? "If you could just wait a
minute."

Slamming the door in his face, I run back to
the meeting room to call Mel. She was in charge of posting the
license application form. My fingers drum against the smooth
surface of my desk as I wait for her to pick up.

"Hey, it's me," I say. "Listen, I've just
heard the wildest story about the club not having a license." I
laugh because the insinuation is ridiculous. There must be a
misunderstanding, and in a minute it'll all be sorted out.

"Oh?" Mel's tone is high-pitched. My heart's
fluttering in my chest. "Wasn't it that brown envelope you asked me
to post a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, the one with the hundreds of forms,
references and all the certified copies of my diplomas." I start
rubbing my temples. First I'm losing my clients and now I realize I
can't even have any because anything related to counseling and
psychology is a highly regulated business that involves proving one
is qualified to do this kind of job.

Silence, then, "What would you say if I told
you I left it on my desk?"

"For weeks? Mel!"

"It wasn't forgetting as much as dropping it
off and then losing it." Her voice trails off. I wish she were here
so I could strangle her.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to
get all that stuff together?" The room's fallen silent and
everyone's looking at me. The doorbell rings again. Who could blame
the guy for doing his job? I wish Mel could've taken hers just as
seriously.