‘I knew it.’ Freddie shook his head. ‘What happened to our Ken next?’
‘It turns out that at least three – or possibly four, but he’s still checking – other “Noakes” have been registered since as directors of various companies. And they are all related to him. We have the ex-wife, the current wife, a brother and possibly a daughter too, but that, as I said, is to be confirmed.’
‘The usual story – he himself is barred from becoming a director but uses his family on paper, and runs the company as he would normally, but behind the scenes.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Were these other companies property development too?’
‘Out of the four he ran, one was, yes, but the other three were property rental companies.’
‘I see. Pray continue,’ said Freddie.
‘Well, listed here we have . . .’ Sebastian read from the print out. ‘“Trimco Ltd”, trading as “Westway Holiday Cottages”, “Ideal Ltd”, trading as “Hedgerow Holiday Homes”, and “Chardway Ltd”, trading as “St Tropez Blue”.’ Sebastian removed his glasses. ‘My mate’s contact at the DTI explained that unfortunately the holiday rental scam is surprisingly common. You rent an office with a couple of phone lines, produce a nice glossy website and advertise on the usual outlets. Then you cream in the deposits and six months later, when you have a nice pile of cheques laundered into a bank account on the Isle of Man, you declare the company insolvent and scarper with your winnings. Then you start again somewhere else.’
‘Leaving the poor old punters with a lost deposit and no holiday,’ finished Freddie.
‘Absolutely. My mate’s feeling is that this is only the tip of the iceberg. He’s only managed to trace these companies because Mr Noakes used relatives with the same name. But he’ll have used other mugs as well. Sam, for instance, is the sole director of Montague Property Development Ltd.’
‘Yes.’ Freddie sighed heavily. ‘Dearie me.’
‘Quite,’ said Sebastian.
‘Where does this Noakes chap live?’
‘My mate didn’t get that far, I’m afraid, but I’ll guarantee you that it’s out of the jurisdiction of British law.’
‘So, what to do?’
‘James is going to do some more digging – he has a contact in the police and is going to find out if Mr Noakes is a “person of interest” to the fraud squad. Chances are, he is, but of course, if he’s scarpered abroad, given the lack of funding in the police at the moment, he’s not a big enough fish to warrant the cost of extradition. Anyway, James said to leave it with him. He’s happy – it’s a good story for his paper.’
‘I know he’s been back in the country – Posy told me Sam had gone to meet him in Norfolk recently.’
‘Right.’
‘Shouldn’t we tell Posy? I mean, if this Noakes is going to play the same game again – advertise Admiral House “retirement apartments” and take what will be hefty deposits, then send the company into liquidation – then she should know. And what about Sam? . . . Do you think he knows?’
‘I have no idea. I presume he would have checked out his backer’s history, but . . .’
‘Perhaps he didn’t want to know.’ Freddie mirrored Sebastian’s thoughts. ‘From what Posy has told me of her son, he isn’t a businessman. And he’s obviously desperate to prove himself. To his wife and his mother. What a mess.’
‘I’m afraid it is. I think the best thing to do is to wait a while whilst James investigates further. When we have more information, we can decide what’s best to do. There’s no contracts signed yet, are there?’
‘No, although Posy’s solicitor has just sent the contract through,’ said Freddie. ‘She’s asked me to take a look at it.’
‘Good. Then get it from her and hold on to it until we know where we are.’
‘I will, although if it all falls through, it rather puts paid to me telling her about the other subject we discussed. It could be months . . . years even, before a buyer turns up for her house and I’m not sure how much longer I can continue to see her without telling her the truth. It’s burning inside me . . . Forget Noakes,’ Freddie sighed, ‘it’s me who feels like a fraud.’
‘I understand, Freddie, but let’s give James a few days to see what else he can find out. Now, I must get back.’
‘Of course.’ Freddie rose with him and they walked to the front door. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your help, Sebastian.’
‘No problem. Bye, Freddie, I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything.’
Sebastian walked away from the cottage, pondering that, if any reviewer commented that the plot of his novels couldn’t happen in reality, he might punch them.
Chapter 29
Amy stood looking out to a grey, angry sea. The clouds were scudding overhead, pushed across the sky by an angry wind, which was also attacking her hair and making it fly all over the place. Her ears were ringing and the newspaper she’d bought was flapping in her hands.
She walked towards the bus shelter, which smelt of all sorts of nefarious, unpalatable substances, and sat down on a bench to try and think.
Yesterday evening, when he’d come home, Sam had laid out the plans for the barn conversion on the kitchen table.
‘I had a meeting with my surveyor, and he’s pretty confident that the planning officer will approve the change of use. The only complaint they may receive is from Admiral House, and as I’ll own it, that’s obviously not a problem,’ he’d grinned. Then he’d waxed lyrical yet again about the architect’s plans for the vast sitting room, with its vaulted ceiling and old roof beams, the inglenook fireplace and the state-of-the-art kitchen they’d have put in.
Amy had done her best to look and sound interested and excited, but she knew she had failed miserably, which had left Sam extremely irritated.
‘I don’t understand you,’ he’d said. ‘I thought a beautiful home was what you wanted. I thought it would make you happy.’
Later that night in bed, Sam had attempted to make love to her. Just his touch made her skin crawl. He’d obviously noticed her reticence, which had angered him, and had then resulted in him pinning her to the bed, his hands holding her wrists above her, his weight on top of her making it impossible to move.
She had screamed at him to stop, and he had, swearing profusely as he’d left the bedroom and disappeared downstairs to take solace in what was left of the bottle of whisky he’d bought earlier.
Amy looked down at her wrists and saw the tender skin on the inside had now turned a vague purple from where he’d gripped them.
She pulled down the sleeves of her shirt to cover the marks and felt tears pricking again at the back of her eyes as she thought of the tender, gentle way Sebastian had made love to her.
She realised Sam had always been aggressive in bed, especially after a few drinks – what she’d mistaken for passion back then just wasn’t.
It’s not normal if he hurts you, Amy . . .
She only wished she had someone to confide in about Sam’s temper and the things he’d done to her over the years, but who could she tell? And besides, it was usually only when he’d had too much booze. But . . . this morning something had happened to really worry her. She’d been getting Sara ready for school upstairs, then she’d heard a crash from the kitchen and Sam shouting. Hurrying down, she’d arrived to find a broken butter dish on the floor and Sam shaking Jake as though he was a rag doll. She’d screamed at Sam to let go and had taken her little boy in her arms, feeling him shiver with fear at his father’s sudden outburst.
In the car on the way to school, she’d gently asked Jake if Daddy had ever done anything like that before.
‘Not like that, Mummy, though he does whack me sometimes if you’re out and I’m naughty.’
‘And me,’ Sara piped up from the back seat. ‘Daddy gets really cross.’
Amy rubbed her fingers distractedly up and down her forehead.
‘Oh God, oh God,’ she murmured to herself desolately. She cou
ld take it, but if he was starting to take out his angst on the children . . .
She realised it had nothing to do with where they lived, or in fact, how much money they did or didn’t have. She didn’t want to be with Sam anywhere. The simple truth was that she didn’t want to be with him at all. His anger was getting out of control and after this morning, Amy knew she had to do something about it.
Amy stood up from the bench and headed for work, knowing one thing for certain. For the sake of her children, they had to leave.
Later that afternoon, she looked through the rentals page in the Gazette. There were a number of furnished holiday cottages whose owners wanted winter rentals, most at a very reasonable amount per month. It wasn’t perfect, because they’d have to move on at Easter when the holiday season got into full swing, but at least it would take them from where they were now – and away from Sam.
As for Sebastian . . . yes, she loved him, but she was not leaving Sam for Sebastian, she was leaving him for the safety of all three of them.
She waited until the reception was quiet, then dialled the number she’d copied down from the paper.
‘Hello, I’m enquiring about your advert in the Gazette. Is the house still available?’
‘It is indeed,’ said a rich male voice.
‘I have two children, would that be a problem?’
‘Not for me, no, but you might find the space a bit limited.’
‘I’m really not looking for anything very big. Could you tell me a little about it?’
‘There’s a good-sized twin bedroom with an en-suite shower room, a small kitchen and bathroom, and a sitting room which has a small galleried landing above it. I’ve put a sofa bed there, but if it was going to be in more permanent use, I’m sure I could find you a proper bed.’
‘It sounds perfect,’ breathed Amy. ‘Could I pop along and see it?’
‘Of course you may. When would you like to come?’
‘Are you in this evening at about half past five?’
‘I am indeed.’ He gave her the address and she wrote it down. ‘My name is Lennox, and you are?’
‘It’s . . . Amy.’ She didn’t want to say her surname. The Montagues were famous in Southwold. ‘I look forward to seeing you later – goodbye, Mr Lennox.’
Freddie had just put down the phone to Amy when it rang again almost immediately.
‘Hello, Sebastian. What news?’
‘My mate James from the news desk has just called me. It seems the fraud squad are indeed interested in talking to Kenneth Noakes.’
‘Right.’
‘As James suspected, Noakes left the country before they could nab him. I’ve just had a call from one of the fraud squad officers. They want to know if Mr Noakes is likely to be in England any time soon.’
‘And how will we discover that?’
‘Amy will probably know. So we need to find out.’
‘And how, pray, are we meant to do that, Sebastian?’ Freddie chuckled. ‘I came to Southwold for a quiet life away from crime, not to become an undercover agent for the fraud squad!’
‘No, of course not. It’s simply a case of keeping one’s ear to the ground. If Posy mentions anything about the date of exchange to you, for example.’
‘Why on earth don’t they simply bug Sam’s mobile?’
‘The officer I spoke to says they want to try the “soft” approach first, see if they can catch Noakes unawares whilst he’s here in the UK. Even though they’ll nab him if they can, I get the feeling that Noakes is not the top of their hit list. He’s a small-time crook to them.’
‘But a major one to those he’s swindled and of course, our beloved Posy.’ Freddie grunted in irritation. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been there many times before in my career as a prosecuting barrister. The police are understaffed and underfunded; often, an obviously guilty suspect would get off on a technicality.’
‘Well, we’ll do what we can. I’ll keep in touch. Bye, Freddie.’
‘Bye, Sebastian.’
Amy arrived outside a pretty cottage which was within easy walking distance of the hotel. She thought how convenient the location would be for her. The cottage was tucked away at the end of a narrow lane, and even though she thought she knew Southwold like the back of her hand, she would never have known the property was there. Built of local stone, it was immaculate, the courtyard swept of leaves and its brass knocker freshly polished, as she tapped to alert the occupant she was outside. The door opened and a pair of bright eyes peered around it.
‘You must be Amy, I presume?’ he asked.
‘Yes, and you must be Mr Lennox.’
‘Indeed, but please call me Freddie. Now then, I have the keys right here, so what say you we take a look at the Hophouse?’
Amy nodded and followed Freddie across the cobbled courtyard to the converted building opposite. ‘Now, I did warn you on the telephone that the Hophouse was not the most spacious of residences. I think you might find it a little small for your needs,’ he said, unlocking the front door.
It took Amy approximately two minutes to walk around the little house. Freddie was right, it was small, but Amy loved it. It had obviously been carefully restored, every available inch of space imaginatively used, and because of the vaulted ceiling in the sitting room, she didn’t find it claustrophobic.
‘Is there an area of garden that comes with it?’ she asked.
Freddie shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not, but I can’t see why you shouldn’t use mine if you need to once the weather cheers up.’
‘I presume this would only be a short-term rental anyway, until the holiday season begins?’
‘I would prefer to take it on a month-by-month basis, if you were interested. See how we all rub along together. We will be living in rather close proximity, as you can see,’ he smiled.
‘Really, Freddie, I think it’s perfect for us, but please say if you would prefer a tenant without children. I’d like to say my two are as quiet as mice and never any trouble, but unfortunately they’re—’
‘Just children,’ he finished for her. ‘Personally, I’ve no problem with little ones at all. Shall we go back to my cottage and have a cup of tea?’
Amy checked her watch. ‘A very quick one, yes,’ she agreed, as she followed him outside and back across the courtyard.
‘Do you have family of your own?’ she asked as he handed her a cup of tea and they sat down in the sitting room.
‘Sadly not. As I was saying to a friend of mine the other night, I have no one to think of but myself.’
‘So, Freddie, when could I move in and what kind of deposit will you require?’ Amy asked.
‘I believe the usual terms are a month in advance. And you can move in whenever you wish.’
‘Would the day after tomorrow be too soon? If I paid you the first month’s rent and the deposit first, of course.’
Freddie saw the desperation in her eyes. ‘That would be acceptable, yes. How about you just pay me for the week in advance? Call it a trial run to see how we all get on? We could consider it a holiday let, if you will.’
‘Really?’ Amy’s eyes shone with tears. ‘That’s so kind of you, Freddie.’
‘Do excuse me for prying, but I presume the children’s father will not be moving in with you?’
‘No. We’re, well, we’re separating, actually, but I work at The Feathers Hotel as a receptionist, so I can obviously provide references for you from there.’
Finally, the penny dropped. ‘Amy, are you by any chance related to Posy Montague?’ Freddie asked her.
‘Er, yes. I’m her daughter-in-law.’
‘I thought so,’ he nodded. ‘You’re Amy Montague, married to her son, Sam. You have two children, and you work like a Trojan as a hotel receptionist to keep the family body and soul together. Posy’s always saying what a miracle you are.’
‘And you must be Freddie, Posy’s friend,’ said Amy slowly, everything falling into place. ‘Oh dear.’ She looked up at him in panic.
‘How embarrassing. The thing is, Freddie, that absolutely no one knows I’m leaving Sam. Not him or Posy.’
‘My dear, before you even say it, let me promise you that not a word shall pass my lips.’
Amy stood up, feeling flustered and comforted at the same time. Freddie seemed such a nice man – it took all she had not to burst into tears on his shoulder and tell him everything. ‘Can I pop round tomorrow with the first week’s rent?’
‘There’s no hurry, Amy, my dear. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind at the moment.’
‘And Freddie?’ Amy turned to him at the front door, her eyes begging him for secrecy.
He put his finger to his lips. ‘Mum’s the word, I promise.’
‘I . . .’ Amy paused on the doorstep. ‘Do you know if Posy is home at the moment?’
‘She isn’t, no. She’s working late at the gallery. There’s a private viewing tonight, though if you need to see her, I’m sure she could spare you ten minutes.’
‘I . . . no, it’s fine. Goodbye, Freddie.’
Freddie closed the door behind him and went into the conservatory to pour himself a large whisky.
‘What to do?’ he muttered to himself, feeling the threads of the Montague family once again tightening around him. He’d seen those bruises on Amy’s wrist as she’d lifted her arm to drink her tea. Yet how could he ever tell Posy her son was obviously a violent brute? The fact that he was offering her daughter-in-law sanctuary from Sam might well be seen by her as a betrayal.
‘Darling Posy,’ Freddie whispered to the clear night sky above the conservatory. ‘Are we destined never to be together?’
On the way home with the children, knowing Posy was at the gallery, Amy drove to Admiral House. She needed to see Sebastian, feel the security of his arms around her for a few minutes as she told him about her momentous decision. Parking in front of the house, she turned and saw Sara was asleep in her car seat.
‘Jake, I’ve just got to go in and see Granny for a few seconds. Will you wait here? I promise I won’t be long.’
The Butterfly Room Page 35