by Jacobs, Anna
‘I knew he wasn’t dead. I just knew it. How soon can I see him, Beth?’
This was even harder. ‘I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to tell you – only he doesn’t want to have anything to do with us, Mum. He was quite rude about it, tried to bribe me to keep quiet.’
‘Did he have any idea he’d been kidnapped?’ Nat asked.
‘No, none. I’m pretty sure of that. I don’t think he even knew he was adopted.’
‘Then he was probably in shock, not thinking clearly.’
‘Well, that’s no excuse for saying such horrible things. I don’t intend to see him again, if I can help it. I’d not have told you at all, only he might contact you and try to bribe you.’
‘You said he’d just agreed to get a divorce,’ Nat pointed out. ‘That’s traumatic too. Poor fellow’s had the angst piled on him this week.’
Beth snorted in disgust. ‘Poor fellow! I think not. Spoilt celebrity would be a better description.’ She sneaked a glance at her mother, but Linda wasn’t weeping now, just looking sad.
Her mother intercepted her glance. ‘I’m all right, darling. I used to think I’d be hysterical with joy if I ever found Greg again, but I’m not. It’s been so long. He’ll be – what? – forty-one now. I’m a complete stranger, even if I am his birth mother, and you can never make up for the lost years. I saw him on TV with his mother and I can remember her quite clearly. She didn’t look like the sort of woman who would kidnap a child.’
‘Perhaps she didn’t do the kidnapping,’ Nat said. ‘She may be a victim too.’
Beth waited and when neither said anything, she asked, ‘So what do you want me to do about him?’
Linda drew herself up. ‘Nothing. It’s not your problem now, Beth darling. I know you’re trying to spare me, but I’ve been a lot better since I passed the menopause. I may weep, but I shan’t collapse. Nor shall I rush into anything.’
‘And she’s got me this time,’ Nat put in. ‘I’ll take good care of her, I promise.’
Linda smiled at him. ‘And I’ll take care of you, too, Nat.’
As they smiled at one another, Beth felt happiness replace the anxiety. It was wonderful to see her mother with someone as nice as Nat. ‘I had to tell you, but don’t let it spoil your life.’
For all her brave words, after her daughter left Linda began to weep again, finding comfort in Nat’s strong arms. When she’d cried herself out, she blew her nose firmly. ‘Sorry. I must look a mess.’
He moved his head back a little to study her. ‘You don’t look your best. But who cares? You’re still my Linda.’
‘And you’re a lovely man.’
‘I’m also a hungry one. What happened to that dessert you promised me?’
‘I forgot about it completely. Ice cream all right?’
He beamed at her. ‘I love ice cream. I saw you had some bananas. Let’s make an ice cream sundae.’
By the time he’d rummaged through her cupboards and insisted on his ice cream and bananas being enhanced by a tin of raspberries, some flakes of chocolate and some nuts, she had lost the urge to weep. She even managed to force most of her dessert down, because he was so very anxious to please her.
But the sadness was still there underneath, and always would be, she supposed.
How could her son not want to meet her? She wanted desperately to meet him. She didn’t know how she’d manage to do that, but she would, somehow.
Nat touched her arm gently. ‘Are you all right?’
Smiling, she laced her fingers in his. ‘I’m fine, better than I’d expected to be, actually. Thanks for being with me.’
‘Nowhere else I’d rather be.’
They went to watch television and soon she found herself in a corner of the couch, with Nat lying with his head on her lap, snoozing gently as the programme played on unwatched by either of them.
She wasn’t going to tell anyone what she intended to do, she decided. Not Beth and not Nat, either. Both would try to stop her, she was sure. And she didn’t intend to be prevented from seeing her son again, at least once.
When Pete arrived home, he found the locks had been changed and a suitcase was standing outside the door of the flat. He didn’t give Fran the satisfaction of banging on the door and pleading to be let in. With a grim smile, he went back down to the foyer, took out his mobile and rang up a man he knew.
If she wanted a confrontation, he was very much in the mood for one.
Half an hour later two men came into the foyer, each carrying a bulging leather briefcase.
Pete said goodbye to the concierge, to whom he’d been chatting, and led the way up to his flat.
‘I don’t care how you manage it, but get me inside, then do whatever’s necessary to mend the door again.’
‘I have to ask: you’re sure this is your dwelling, sir?’
‘Oh, yes. My wife and I have agreed to divorce, but as we don’t have children, there’s no need for her to keep this flat. It was mine before we married and by hell, it’ll be mine after we’re divorced.’ It had been the first thing he bought when he started making real money and he hadn’t realized how much he loved the place till Fran insisted she was going to stay in it. Well, no way was the unfaithful bitch going to take his home from him.
The second man went to look at the door and smiled at Pete. ‘No need to break anything down, sir. I am, if I may say so, quite an expert at picking locks. You should really have installed a much better one in a luxury place like this.’
‘We have a concierge on duty downstairs all the time.’
‘And there will be at least one back door, plus the entrance to the basement car park. This isn’t enough protection, sir, not nearly enough.’ He took out some tools and began to fiddle with the lock. After a short time, there were some clicking noises and it opened.
‘After she leaves, can you come and fix me up with locks that can’t be picked?’
‘Yes, sir. But you’d better make sure you get a key for this new lock before we leave, hadn’t you?’
Pete nodded. ‘Would you mind waiting out here? I think there may be a bit of arguing before she agrees to do what I want.’ He strolled into the TV room of his flat and smiled as Fran jumped to her feet with a cry of shock.
‘How the hell did you get in?’
‘Through the front door, how do you think?’
‘But I had the lock changed.’
‘Well, it’s going to be changed again. This is my flat and you’re not keeping it.’
‘I like living here.’
‘It was mine before we married.’
‘I’ll get a restraining order.’
He gave her a disgusted look. ‘You’re the one at fault here. What grounds could you possibly have for a restraining order? I’d hoped we could settle things amicably, but if you want to fight, I might remind you that I can afford to buy whatever help I need to defeat you.’
‘I’ll say you beat me up. I’ll scratch myself to prove it. You won’t win then.’
He moved back to the door and stood near it, arms folded. ‘Go ahead. Do your worst.’
She picked up the phone and dialled the concierge. When someone answered, she let out a piercing scream and banged her arm on the edge of the cupboard. ‘Send someone to Flat 3!’ She began to sob.
Pete had opened the door as soon as she started doing this and when she turned to look at him triumphantly, one hand curling up to scratch her own face, she found three men standing there, all staring at her quite calmly.
‘He started to beat me,’ she said faintly.
‘He didn’t touch you, Mrs Newbury,’ one man said. ‘I could see through the glass door that he was nowhere near you, even before he let us in.’
The phone in her hand squawked. ‘Sorry, it was a joke.’ She put it down. ‘Pete, please! Don’t do this. We can work it out.’
‘We’re way past that, Fran, as you just proved. How could I ever trust you again?’ He turned to the two men. ‘I think I’m going to
need a chaperone till she leaves. Who knows what else she’ll claim I’ve done? Would you be willing to stay with me twenty-four seven till she moves out, just in case?’
‘We’ll take shifts. It’ll cost you, though.’
‘I have plenty of money.’ He chuckled at the sour expression on Fran’s face as he added, ‘More than she has.’
‘Then we’d be happy to help you, sir.’
‘Let me show you your bedroom.’ Ignoring his wife, Pete went to open a door further down the corridor.
The nearest man shook his head. ‘I think it’d be better if I slept in your room, sir, given what she’s already tried to do.’
‘Fine. Whatever you think best.’
Fran came to stand in the doorway of the living room. ‘You’re a bastard, Pete Newbury, you know that?’
‘I don’t think so. You’re the one who was unfaithful and I can prove it.’
‘Everyone knows women throw themselves at you by the dozen.’
‘But no one knows that I do anything with them.’
‘I bet if I hire someone to look, they’ll find you’ve been unfaithful.’
‘They won’t because I haven’t. Now, I need to get some sleep. I’ve got long rehearsals tomorrow.’
‘You men always stick together!’ She glared at them and stormed off down the corridor.
‘Good thing you had witnesses, sir,’ the guard said. ‘Nasty, that could have been.’
‘Yes.’ Pete went to have a quick shower. Not until he was safely under a stream of hot water did he let his emotions out. Men weren’t supposed to cry – unless they were driven to desperation. He not only had to face the humiliation of having everyone know his wife had been unfaithful, but also the ridiculous claim that he’d been kidnapped as a child. And to top it all, Edward had resigned.
It was too much.
When he’d finished his shower, he towelled himself dry and went to sort out a makeshift bed for his guard before getting into his own. He felt relief at letting out his emotions. Now he’d settle in for a fight. No one was going to get the better of him. Not his wife, nor his damned inconvenient sister.
And they weren’t going to upset his mother, either. She was looking a bit frail these days and still missed his father greatly, he knew. He ought to go and see her more often. He would see more of her from now on.
At least things were going well with the show. The new segment was drawing a bigger audience. People loved sob stories, that was clear.
He’d have to find a way to get Edward back, though, because he needed his cousin more than ever at the moment. He’d phone him first thing in the morning and grovel, if necessary.
Eleven
The phone rang at seven o’clock in the morning, jerking Edward out of a sound sleep after a restless night. He peered at the clock and groaned, then fumbled for the phone.
‘Feeling better today?’ Pete asked.
‘What the hell do you want at this hour?’
‘Come and have breakfast with me. You can’t have meant it about quitting, but clearly something is upsetting you, so we need to fix it. I apologize if it’s my fault.’
‘What I’m going to do right now is go back to sleep. Have a nice day.’ Edward put the phone down and rolled over.
When it rang again, he ignored it. Five minutes later it started ringing once more. He sat up, unplugged it and quickly got changed for the gym.
The phone in the living room began ringing as he left his flat. Well, let it damned well ring.
He enjoyed a workout and started swimming a few laps to finish off the session. When he saw Pete come into the gym, he groaned, got a mouthful of water and spat it out but continued swimming. He wasn’t jumping out to greet him like a tame dog.
When he’d finished his laps, he got out and Pete came across to join him.
‘Breakfast now?’
‘Which word don’t you understand, I or quit?’
‘I’ll raise your salary.’
‘It’s not about money. You’ve always paid me generously – which was only right considering how hard you worked me. Look, Pete, I was thinking of quitting anyway. I want to live my own life, not yours. The way you treated Beth just brought the date forward. There was no need to be so cruel to her. You really upset her, and that upset me.’
Pete looked at him for a moment with eyes narrowed. ‘Are you still involved with her?’
‘I certainly am.’
‘Bad timing, Edward. Bad choice of woman, too. She’s only using you to get at me.’
‘She isn’t.’ He smiled at the thought of that. Beth might be too blunt sometimes but she’d not lie about something important, he was quite sure of that.
‘I’m going to pay her off, then we’ll see who’s right.’
‘She doesn’t want your money.’
Pete made a scoffing sound. ‘She’s a cleaner, for heaven’s sake. Of course she wants money – clearly more than I offered her. You don’t want to get tangled up with a greedy woman.’
Edward pressed the lift button, hoping it’d come before he punched his cousin. ‘She damned well isn’t greedy. Don’t bother coming up. I don’t want to talk to you till I’m feeling a little more charitable. I’ll come into the office soon to collect my things.’
When Pete would have followed him into the lift, he shoved his cousin away forcibly, taking him by surprise, and shut the doors on him, glaring so fiercely that Pete stepped back.
Beth went home from her mother’s house to a flat that seemed even emptier than usual. She fidgeted around, making cheese on toast and opening a can of soup because she couldn’t be bothered to cook anything else. At least she was eating something, she told herself, and forced down an apple as well.
The evening seemed interminable and the only bright spot was an email from Jo, not a long one, but a promise to bring Mikey to see her next Saturday, if that was all right.
Beth typed a quick reply and went to switch on the television. But a promo about the next Pete Newbury Show upset her, and when they kept showing the stupid promo over and over, she switched off the television and tried to read instead. Unfortunately, the book wasn’t good enough to grab her attention.
In the end she had a shower and went to bed, expecting a poor night’s sleep.
To her surprise it was morning when she next opened her eyes. She stretched luxuriously. Nothing made you feel as good as a sound night’s sleep.
Today would be better, she was sure. Tonight she was going out to dinner with Edward. Wear something special, he’d said. She only had the outfit she’d worn to the ball and it was too fancy for a visit to a restaurant, even a celebratory one.
She opened her wardrobe, but the selection of clothes revealed practical workwear, several pairs of jeans and tops, nothing glamorous. This was another time when she needed Renée’s help. Glancing at the clock she picked up the phone and rang her friend, explaining her dilemma.
‘You’re going out with a man more than once?’ Renée teased. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘He’s interesting. I can talk to him.’
Renée’s voice softened. ‘I’m glad for you. You’re usually so terse with people. And of course I’ll help you. I’ll pick you up at lunchtime. I know a great little boutique just five minutes from your office.’
Beth put the phone down, aligning its cradle carefully and staring at the surface for a moment or two. What had got into her to be buying more clothes that she’d only wear once or twice? Edward, that’s what. He was frighteningly attractive, and yet so easy to chat to that she hadn’t backed away, for once.
Did she dare risk spending more time with him? Hadn’t she vowed not to get serious about a man ever again?
Serious! She wasn’t serious about him, she just liked him.
She clapped one hand to her mouth as the realization sank in that she could very easily get serious about Edward Newbury.
What was she going to do about that? Stop it now or . . . dip her toe in the water again.<
br />
She looked down at her toes and smiled slowly, wriggling them inside her shoes.
Jo went to see a flat after work. ‘Flat’ was a misnomer, for a start. It was one room with a so-called kitchen in an alcove, and a shared bathroom that needed cleaning. A bedsitter wouldn’t work with a small child. There needed to be at least two rooms or Mikey would never get to sleep in the evenings. When she turned to leave, the landlord blocked her way.
‘Could do you a cheaper rent if you were the friendly type,’ he said with a leer that made very clear what he meant by that.
‘My girlfriend wouldn’t approve,’ she said.
His smile turned into a sneer. ‘One of those, are you? Unnatural, that is. You need a real man to sort you out, you do.’
She pushed past him quickly, suddenly a little afraid, and when he grabbed her arm, she chopped at his throat with her free hand. She’d never actually tried any of the self-defence tactics she’d learned about in a class she’d once attended, had never needed to, because the first rule of self-defence was to avoid getting into dangerous situations. Though how you could do that when you were flat hunting was more than she could work out.
Hearing him coughing and choking behind her, she ran off down the street, groaning in relief when a bus came along almost immediately.
Ghita opened the door, expecting to see Jo, astonished when she found her father standing there again. ‘Come in.’
This time he knew to leave his shoes inside the flat. He still looked round suspiciously, but the sight of the two little boys playing with plastic cars on the rug seemed to reassure him.
Tears welled in her eyes. Would he always look at her so suspiciously? How could he think she’d ever do anything immoral?
Not till they were sitting with glasses of tea and a platter of untouched biscuits before them did he come to the point.
‘Your mother and I think you should come and live at home again. She could help you with the boy until—’ He broke off with a frown.
‘Until what?’
‘Until we find you a husband. There are older men who’d be prepared to overlook what happened to you. It’s just a matter of negotiating something.’
She stared at him in horror. She didn’t want an arranged marriage and to her surprise, didn’t want to live at home again, either. It’d mean waiting on her father and brothers hand and foot, keeping her opinions to herself, and she’d grown used to airing her thoughts and discussing her feelings openly.