by Mark Bailey
‘Sorry, I lied.’
‘Good, because I lied too about getting back this morning. I got back Thursday night.’
‘I know, Milly; you were at Bill’s with D.S. Greg Stopford who was wearing a yellow cardigan and shiny black shoes.’ They both laughed.
‘It’s D.I. Stopford now. Bloody hell, you can’t get away with anything around here.’
‘The walls have eyes and ears, you know, Milly,’ said Rosie as they walked through the front door of Watford Therapy.
The meeting went for an hour, and Theo laid everything on the table. There was no greeting, no friendly hello, no — ‘it’s good to have you back Milly, how did it all go?’ — just business as usual. If the proposal worked out, they would align resources with a similar business in Brooklyn. Each branch would be branded according to its location. There would be Watford Therapy, Twickenham Therapy — for the business called Watford Therapy in Twickenham — and Brooklyn Therapy. Since the asset base was larger in the U.K. than the U.S., there would be a cash adjustment back to Theo, which he would reinvest in the business to assist cash flow. The proposal had progressed past its infancy. Theo had canvassed taking a larger share of the business, but the U.S. business partner insisted on an equal business share.
Touché, thought Milly. She couldn’t really see how any type of partnership working with a practicing narcissist could possibly work. Then came Milly’s offer.
‘Alright, Milly, basically, the offer will be to manage either Watford, Twickenham or Brooklyn.’
‘What do you mean “manage”, Theo?’
‘I’m keeping in mind your current position in relation to your employment contract stipulating time spent counseling,’ replied Theo. ‘I’d rather you oversee all of them, but then you won’t get your required hours counseling in each week.’
‘Where are you going to be, Theo?’
‘Wherever you’re not,’ answered Theo. Milly concealed a smile, but Rosie didn’t. ‘So, Milly, everything will change for you or nothing will at all, except whatever decision you make, sadly, you will see less of me.’
‘That’s a cross I’ll just have to bear, Theo,’ replied Milly. She looked at Rosie as Rosie looked back at her. Then they both looked at Theo, and they all laughed. ‘How long do I have to decide?’
‘A week or so. We think we may have found another doctor of psychology who comes highly recommended. Then, depending on Rosie, we might need to find another H.R. slash business manager. I am happy for you to fly to Brooklyn if you wish and have a look around. It might suit, but it might not.’
‘What’s the go with Brooklyn currently?’
‘The owner’s a bit like me: older but still ambitious. If you decide to work in the U.S., then she will help you … like our arrangement currently … and I’ll stay here. I just need someone to fill your position first, Milly. There is huge capacity for expansion with our type of business in the States.’
‘I see. Fair enough, Theo, I shall let you know soon.’
‘As soon as you can or sooner would be good, Milly,’ said Theo as he thanked both girls and they all walked out the front door to the car park. At his car door, Theo turned to add, ‘By the way, you will both be given shares in the new entity as an incentive, whatever its structure, and you can buy more shares too, Milly, if you choose to.’
I wonder if he knows about my rich uncle, speculated Milly. Wait until tomorrow, she thought, as she anticipated Sunday’s newspaper in Australia.
Rosie offered to drop Milly back to Saint Albans Road, but Milly decided to walk. She had a lot to think about.
‘What side of the fence are you sitting on currently, Rosie?’
‘Right on top of it,’ answered Rosie.
‘That’s fifty-fifty then?’
‘Correct, Milly, see you in the morning,’ said Rosie as she drove out of the Watford Therapy car park for home.
When Milly returned to her unit, she switched on her computer and found she had five new friends on Facebook. Dannii, Rosie, Simone, Stopford, and Nari had accepted her friend request. There was nothing from Naomi, though — she had sent her a friend request too, so she checked Naomi’s Facebook page, but couldn’t find it. She turned her computer off and turned it back on late that evening. When she turned it on again, there were more friend requests from friends of the new friends she had; Naomi had also accepted her as a friend. Then she looked at Nari’s page and her timeline where she described her employment status as studying ancient history. Poor little bugger thought Milly, I will help her if I can.
Chapter 21.
Milly woke early on Sunday morning. It would be mid-afternoon in Western Australia, so the Sunday Times was online and circulating. Milly had subscribed to the West Australian newspaper before flying back to the U.K. and the Sunday Times was included in the subscription.
She pictured the young Sunday morning latte sippers in the city coffee shops with their coiffed hair, tight pants, and pointed shoes reading the tabloid news on their iPhones as they made the Sunday morning pilgrimage home after their Saturday night out. They didn’t normally read the news on Sunday, but they had waited for this story. It had been news all week — Dr. McTaggart, a mental health psychologist, had slept with Matthew Boyd Jr., his mother, and his father, for drugs.
‘I’ve used some of their gear,’ would be one text. Everyone who mattered knew the Boyds and drugs were connected.
‘That’s old news,’ would be another.
‘She’s got nice tits,’ still another.
These texts, and others similar, would fly around in cyberspace between other texts on who went home with whom last night, and who got caught with ecstasy tablets at last night’s rave night dance party.
There would be older, more sensible connoisseurs of news, who only read the Sunday Times because it came with their subscription to the West Australian. They wouldn’t like it. Anyone who reads tabloids deserves to be lied to. They had responsible jobs and young families, so they stayed in Saturday nights now, just reading from their tablet and laptops at their Sunday morning coffee ritual. Then inside the coffee shops, in corners where they lingered for longer or outside with their Pugs and Maltese crosses with their tousled hair and matching ribbons, were the transition-to-retirement folk and retirees, who still liked the feel of a newspaper in their hand and loved gossip. They would all get an eyeful of Milly and her résumé, reporting news of her knickers, full of D.N.A., in a laundry basket and a meeting in room number sixteen in the Travelodge Motel in the Perth C.B.D., just up from the Swan River.
‘They didn’t miss much,’ said Milly out loud to herself.
It was all there, taking up most of the first three pages with another photo of Milly as she walked through Stirling Gardens, headlights on high, before doing up her all-season jacquard fringe coat. She was stunned by the detail. It could not have been clearer if she had provided the information herself. And then came Simone’s coup de grace: the $25 million the late James Anderson had allegedly left Milly in his will.
The tale unraveled; it didn’t hold back. It detailed fact with no opinion; they could report it now the court case was finished. There was no doubting Simone’s complicity, but Milly wondered about the Boyds. Simone would repeat her claim to Matt Boyd Jr. that she was not involved in the feature — it would all be down to Cameron Chadwick. She pondered the story making news here in the U.K. papers. The job in Brooklyn, U.S.A is looking more attractive by the hour, thought Milly.
Her phone rang. It was Rosie. ‘Any thoughts on yesterday, Milly?’ asked Rosie as she stared at the salacious revelations she’d just read on her computer screen about her best friend. She’d only had to google ‘Dr. Milly McTaggart’ to find the details on an Australian news site.
‘Yes, I’m considering it,’ answered Milly as she looked at the Sunday Times on her computer. ‘Where are you sitting, Rosie?’
‘Fifty-five, forty-five. Stuart and I have been discussing it this morning.’
‘What side of
the fence?’
‘The Brooklyn side,’ answered Rosie.
Ten minutes later, Milly’s phone rang again. It was Dannii.
‘I guess you’ve read it?’
‘I have,’ answered Milly.
‘They didn’t miss ya.’
‘No, Simone didn’t, did she?’
‘I’m going to come onto her,’ said Dannii.
‘No, don’t you dare; let’s stick to our plan.’
They talked for another five minutes.
Then Nari called Milly. ‘Want to meet for a coffee?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘I’m working this afternoon, up your way. I’ll come to your place again, around 4:00.’
‘Perfect,’ replied Milly. ‘I’ll see you this afternoon then.’
Nari knocked on Milly’s door at 4:10 p.m. They sat at the dining table again, and Milly started the conversation by referring to the Sunday Times as she clicked on the link on her computer and pushed the laptop across the table to her. Milly knew it wouldn’t bother Nari; she did that kind of thing most days probably. Nari couldn’t quite hide her surprise; her face told the story.
‘It’s very interesting, Milly.’
Milly made two coffees; both black with one sugar. Nari looked at her, smiling. ‘So, what do you plan to do with the twenty-five million then?’
‘That part’s not true. My uncle left me money, but it was nowhere near twenty-five million dollars.’
‘You and I should start a business together.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I don’t know. Something to do with sex.’
‘No thanks. Haven’t you had enough of that in your short life?’
‘Probably, but there’s good money in it, and I’ll never get to teach. I could live off that Kerford guy from the South Croydon Inn and his friends.’
‘Sorry?’
‘He’s into things, Milly. He made me an offer … sort of.’
Milly thought she knew where the conversation was headed but didn’t want to push too hard for an explanation.
‘An offer … sort of? Sounds like something illegal?’
‘I don’t doubt it for a minute.’ Then there was silence, it was uncomfortable — for Milly at least, but it persisted. Nari wasn’t forthcoming; she was keeping something in like she needed something to tell Milly later. Was she worried about their friendship? Did she think Milly would discard her when she had all her information? Milly looked at her watch.
‘It’s 5:00 p.m. Do you want to head into Watford for a drink on your way home? I need to be back here around 6:30. I’ve got a big day tomorrow. I’ve been away from work for nearly a month now.’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’ Then she looked at Milly again. ‘I’ll tell you about his offer.’
Each drove their cars to the Essex Arms and sat at the bar. The first thing the bar staff did was ask Nari for proof of her age. They got some funny stares. Milly believed other customers thought she was a well-paid nanny looking after a young Asian girl from a rich Asian family. What were they doing sitting at the bar in a pub? So they moved to a corner table, away from customers and their chatter. Milly asked Nari about her life, as she sipped on her house white and Nari drank mineral water.
‘I’m first-generation English-Korean. My parents emigrated to the U.K. from South Korea; my father has a brother living here. I love my parents. They are wonderful and want the best for me, but they have no money.’
‘Do they know what you do?’
‘No way, Milly! They can never know. It would break their hearts. They don’t know about my conviction either. They just think I am studying at university, that I work part-time, and I’m getting some welfare assistance from the government.’
‘How did you get into this line of work then?’
‘It was easy, looking like I do. It’s addictive work, working for yourself; and when things go well, the money is great. I can make myself look older if I want to. I don’t always get asked for I.D. in pubs, you know. It’s my size … or lack of it … as much as anything that makes me look young. I have a fetish audience and clientele, so I don’t have to advertise. A lot of my customers are repeats, so that mitigates some of the danger. There’s just the odd one like Donald Crawford.’
‘You mean Kerford don’t you?’
‘No, he calls himself Crawford when I’m about. He did call himself David Crawford, but he got that pissed he started correcting me back to Donald, so Donald Crawford it is. They all give a false name, but I don’t know why they bother. I have his phone number.’
Milly steered the conversation slightly away from Kerford; she didn’t want Nari thinking it was an information quest.
‘What about security then?’ she asked, sounding concerned for Nari’s safety.
‘Do you want his contact details? I’ll send you a share contact,’ said Nari as she picked up her phone, ignoring Milly’s question.
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Milly as she looked at her phone, checking the screen was face down. Her phone didn’t make a noise, it was on silent, but she could see light flashing around its sides as it received Kerford’s contact.
‘Why do you place your phone on its screen, Milly?’
‘It’s either that or leave it in the car. I hate being interrupted by phone calls during conversation; it’s very rude; even a flashing phone. When we have finished our conversation, I’ll turn it back over and turn the ringer back on.’
‘I see,’ said Nari. ‘Anyway, where were we … that’s right, security. Well, security is fine if you can afford it, but it means you’ll be lying on your back for longer, working to pay protection money to some thug who couldn’t care less if you live or die. Sometimes we get guys with deep voices to answer the phone, so clients think we have security. They’re usually the boyfriends of colleagues. If I’m on a call out to a woman, I don’t worry about it. If I feel uncomfortable, I simply walk away.’
‘You service men and women then?’
‘I do, Milly.’
‘Which do you prefer?’
‘I’m straight, but dance with both sides when I need to. In my line of work, it’s mainly guys I see. What about you? I assumed by the Times story you’re into men and women?’
‘Yes, Nari, it’s not so much about the wedding tackle for me, more the person, although having said that, I probably swing towards women more … slightly.’
‘Wedding tackle?’
‘Like fishing tackle, only you’re going to bed, not fishing.’
‘That’s hilarious, Milly,’ said Nari laughing and Milly laughed too. ‘So, getting back to Crawford, there is something else. He called me, out of the blue … to feel me out; to ask if I wanted some work and there was work for others like me. He said I could earn huge money, that there were things … he spoke like you would if you were trying to ask or discuss something illegal and there were others listening, so he was careful what he said.’
‘Like someone was tapping your phone?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He said it would portray the seedier side of family life with some older actors in it, and younger ones too.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I answered yes, out of curiosity, just to keep the conversation going. I said there were a lot like me about.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Well, I don’t know how significant it is … or isn’t … but the night he rang me, he called using the number I shared with you.’
‘Right,’ answered Milly. Her brain was working overtime now, thinking, contemplating and concluding. ‘So it seems he’s careful what he says but calls you on his phone, which can be traced?’
‘So it would seem. He’d obviously been drinking the night he called me,’ added Nari.
‘Anything else?’ asked Milly.
‘Not much else from him, but at the end of the phone call, he put it right on me. He wanted to know what days and nights I was available over the following couple of weeks.’
‘W
hat did you say?’
‘I said I needed to think about it; then he started getting agitated and nasty … so I told him to piss off and hung up.’
Milly sat deep in thought. ‘Interesting,’ she said.
‘I suppose it means they are working in with each other,’ said Nari. ‘My guess is he’s into something, something rotten, and he qualified it by saying that if I brought along some younger looking ones like me, it would be legal for a change.’
It was time to go, so Nari visited the ladies room, and Milly turned her phone over and turned the ringer back on. She noticed there was a message on WhatsApp from Dannii and was about to read it when Nari returned and they said their goodbyes.
‘By the way, as I said, I did get some money from my uncle, but not the amount they claimed in the news story about me. It was substantial, though, so if you’re ever short, don’t hesitate to ask for some help.’
‘I am very short, Milly, haven’t you noticed?’
‘You know what I mean,’ answered Milly, grinning. There’s that sense of humor again, she thought.
‘I know. You are very kind; you hardly know me.’
‘No worries, and I’ll have a talk to one of my colleagues about that drugs charge too,’ said Milly, thinking of Stopford.
‘Thank you, Milly; I’ll talk to you during the week.’
As she walked to her car, Milly read the phone message from Danni: Simone and Cameron Chadwick have split up.
Good, she thought as she got into her car, it means Simone is finding that pole even greasier. I bet she blames the break with Chadwick on the scandal in the papers.
Milly didn’t message Dannii back because it was late in Australia. She would message her tomorrow, she decided. But before she drove out of the car park, she changed her mind. She stopped the car and replied to Dannii’s message. She gave her thoughts for what they were worth and added at the end ‘… So, was the split all about the Sunday Times, then?’
Chapter 22.
Milly didn’t speak to Rosie until lunchtime Monday when they drove into Watford for coffee and a sandwich. Theo briefed Milly on her clients — their progress and, for some, their regression and likely prognosis. He was gentle; she was mostly right in her diagnosis, she just needed guidance. He would direct her now on his path, built on his rock of academic achievement and distinction, borne through years of experience, and never listening to anyone else including his peers with their scientific research and opinions. That’s funny, Theo, thought Milly, as they broke for lunch, none were regressing when I last counseled them.