‘Found what you’re looking for?’ Juliette hung her coat on the stand.
Victoria acted distracted. ‘Hmm? Oh. Yes. Tidying my files. Housekeeping. I’ll transfer my personal stuff. There’s no need to keep it here anymore.’ She reached for her bag and pulled out a USB stick. She needed to copy across Tommy’s information anyway.
Juliette hovered by the corner of the desk. Her downturned mouth matched her wilted posture. ‘You’re wiping out any trace of you being here.’
It wasn’t something Victoria had thought of before then, but having used it as her excuse, she realised she was now committed to doing it. It was another job to add to the never-ending list. ‘Not every trace,’ she said, trying to bolster Juliette. ‘There’s plenty of evidence I’ve interfered.’ She smiled and pushed back her chair. ‘I had no idea so much of me existed in binary. It’s going to take hours, and I was hoping to head back tonight.’
‘Stay, then. Your apartment’s still empty. Let Seth sleepover with his cousins, you can finish becoming the invisible woman, and tomorrow, you can see Anna.’ Juliette leaned in. ‘We could have breakfast together, and you could tell me about Chris Frampton.’ She smiled.
Victoria rested on her elbows. ‘I could. And I could also sort out the stuff to take to Weymouth. It would save Annabel the job.’ Her initial reluctance to stay derived from her concern Tommy would act up while she was away, but she needed to follow through with the information she’d received. And delete her personal files. ‘Okay. We’ll have breakfast together.’
Both women smiled.
At the point Rick was excused and left the kitchen table, Chris scowled at Tommy. The bastard had been making snide remarks from the moment they’d sat down to dinner. Thankfully, Rick appeared unaware of the underlying threats.
‘Did I tell you Vicky asked me to go with her today?’ Tommy folded his hands together and rested them on his stomach. ‘Yeah. She’d booked a room. I wonder what she had in mind.’ He kicked Chris’s foot. ‘I told you she was hot for me.’
Chris tried not to take the bait, but Tommy was a proficient angler. ‘Why didn’t you go then?’
‘I like playing the waiting game. The pay-off’s sweeter. I bet Vicky’s sweet. I bet she tastes of honey.’ Tommy fidgeted in his seat. ‘Shit. I’m getting hard thinking about her.’ His shoulders jerked up and down as he laughed. ‘I’m building tension, mate. Great sex stems from anticipation, and when I give it to her, she’s gonna come like a train.’ He pulled at the denim stretching over the top of his thigh. ‘Man. I gotta go.’ He slid back his chair, shook himself down, and disappeared into the hallway. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he called. ‘I’ll be gone some time.’ His snigger carried all the way up the stairs, vanishing once the door slammed shut.
Chris slumped forward, cushioning his head with his arms. ‘Bastard.’ It had to be lies. All of it. Victoria wouldn’t have invited him to London.
He held up his head and gazed at the door leading to the annexe. Her departure was swift, and the excuse of sorting her London apartment didn’t warrant such speed.
If she was regretting sleeping with him, and she and Seth had gone home, he rather she’d have told him, than left him wondering.
There was an easy way to find out.
He rubbed his chin, as he chewed over the right and wrong of entering the annexe. He had a key. He could nip in, and be out in moments, and no one would be the wiser. He wouldn’t touch anything. Well, maybe a drawer or two. That was all.
He scolded himself, and looked away, hoping the temptation would dissolve. Victoria had the right to privacy. Going in there was a bad idea. Crazy. It was the action of a dishonest and desperate man. He wouldn’t put it past Tommy to do such a shameful thing.
As he cleared away the dishes, and tidied around the quiet kitchen, his mind led him through the fire door and down the hall of the annexe, stopping outside Victoria’s room. It was there he’d seen Lacey. He hadn’t thought about her since … since he’d been in Victoria’s bed. He collapsed against the fridge as the realisation and the guilt belted him around his head.
Dazed, he stumbled into the conservatory and fell into the porter’s chair. Its high sides, deep back and domed roof provided a cavernous refuge, but it did nothing to protect Chris from his wild thoughts.
He’d slept with another woman. He’d initiated it, he’d enjoyed it, and he’d have kept doing it had Victoria not brought it to an end.
As the consequences of his actions hit home, and the enormity of the situation rose from his stomach, he slapped his hand over his mouth.
The last time he and Lacey made love, she’d said she’d never want another man.
He sat upright, his thought distracting him from his original course. She wouldn’t betray him – not in life and not in death. Tommy, with all his ridiculous inferences and digs was talking crap. Stirring. Goading and saying the things he knew would hurt Chris the most.
He thrust his head into his hands and pushed back into the chair. He’d allowed Tommy to burrow beneath his skin like a deathwatch beetle, and infect him with thoughts of duplicity and infidelity. If Tommy had slept with Lacey, he’d have known about her HIV. She would have told him.
Chris punched the leather on the inside of the chair. If he’d not been such a hothead, he’d have worked it out sooner. There was never anything between Tommy and Lacey, and he was a fool for thinking otherwise.
His conscience developed the spikes of a cactus, and it pricked him into believing he’d used the idea of an affair as an excuse to sleep with Victoria.
Having tucked Seth and his cousins in for the night, Victoria left Juliette’s house and returned to the office. Her promise to her sister that she wouldn’t work throughout the night was in danger of being broken. As the hours rattled by, Victoria was sinking in the mud that accompanied Tommy Stone’s name. His real name.
Max Cooper was born in Bristol, worked in finance, and was imprisoned in London. Victoria’s contact had provided links to the court case, including a pastel image of the defendant as portrayed on news reports.
Working as a financial advisor, Cooper got away with twenty months of embezzlement before being discovered. He was given a custodial sentence of two years.
Victoria scrolled down the screen. The information suggested he was released after a year, at which point he changed his name. She knew he would have lost his professional licence and his reputation, so there would have been little point in returning to the finance sector, but his change of name struck her as odd. It implied he was prepared to try his luck again.
She tipped back her chair, yawned, and stretched out her arms. Based on what Tommy told her and what she now knew, she made several assumptions; one – ashamed and embarrassed by their son’s crime, his family disowned him; two – he struggled to find work in the UK; three – he knew of only one way to make a quick buck, and four – he left for America to start again. He had two jobs during his stay. The first was with the film studio and the second was with the Framptons.
Victoria threw the chair onto all four wheels, as part of her conversation with Tommy volleyed into her thoughts. ‘I got a great place to live, Lacey close by, and a job that eventually paid well.’
Choosing that moment to return to sleep mode, the monitor presented her with the face of Chris Frampton. Dark, gorgeous, sexy. And probably a few thousand dollars poorer than he imagined.
Victoria sighed, nudged the mouse and brought the monitor to life. What she was about to do was immoral, and possibly unforgivable, but as long as she was doing it for the right reasons, she would continue. It helped that she had administrative privileges to Chris’s computer. It also helped that she’d installed the remote access software he’d requested. It was a bonus he’d left his PC switched on, and a godsend he had no technological expertise whatsoever.
Unless she told him, he’d
have no clue she’d entered his personal files.
Another hour on and she’d found inconsistencies within Chris’s accounts. Every so often there was an expenses entry twice the cost of the regular, more reasonable claims. Then there were cash withdrawals, referenced with ‘Lunch with producer’, or ‘Surprise for boys’, and for the most recent purchase, the Ducati Panigale, listed as ‘Motorbike – Work Tool’, Tommy hadn’t even bothered to cover his tracks. He either relied on Chris not verifying the paperwork, or he simply didn’t care.
Victoria chose the latter. Tommy had got away with stealing for so long, he’d become complacent. He considered himself untouchable. Immune.
His arrogance would be his downfall.
Satisfied she had enough evidence to get him off their backs, she copied the data to her USB stick, slipped it into the inside pocket of her bag, and shut down the computer. She resigned herself to the fact she’d have to tell Chris what she’d done, so she could present him with the information. It was up to him to decide how to proceed.
As she left the building, she glanced over her shoulder for one final look. ‘Bye, EweSpeak,’ she said. ‘Be good.’
Chris rolled onto his side and checked the clock. Two-thirty, and still nothing from Victoria. That was it then. She’d taken fright and returned to London. Well, that was fine, because she wasn’t the only one to think sleeping together was a mistake. At least this way they didn’t have to confront one another, and Rick would be spared a long goodbye.
He pushed the duvet away and kicked it onto the empty side of the bed. Without Victoria around to hold Tommy’s interest, there was a chance he’d bugger off, too. He wouldn’t go without carrying out his threat, that went without saying, but maybe it was time Rick knew the truth. It was the way the news was conveyed that concerned Chris. He’d have to explain everything to him first thing – Lacey, her film career, the HIV, Victoria leaving. The shit was going to hit the fan, but Chris would deal with the fallout. He’d have to. And no one knew what the future held. Maybe, in time, Rick would learn to live again and Chris would learn to love again.
Whatever happened, they’d be in it together. Father and son.
Perhaps this was what both of them needed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With less than four hours sleep, Victoria was grateful for the extra-strong black coffee Juliette passed her. The smell was having the desired effect, and Victoria’s thoughts fell into line. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just gone seven. Did you get everything sorted?’
‘As much as I could. I’ve loaded the car with our personal belongings, and managed to pile the stuff to send to storage into one room.’ Victoria sipped at her drink. ‘I have my mobile now.’ She held it up. ‘Not sure I want it.’
Juliette sat down at the table. ‘Didn’t you miss it at all?’
‘Not really. But it has its uses.’
‘And there is a limit to going back to basics,’ Juliette said, nodding.
Victoria agreed. ‘Do you know how difficult it is to find a payphone?’
‘So, what’s your plan?’ Juliette opened the jar of Marmite, stuck her knife in, and spread the dark substance on her piece of seeded toast.
‘As soon as Seth’s dressed and breakfasted, we’ll head off.’
‘Will you be coming back?’
Victoria looked at her sister. ‘Not for EweSpeak. It’s in good hands.’
Juliette put her toast on her plate, and wiped her mouth with her napkin. ‘What will you do with your shares?’
‘I hadn’t given it much thought. I’m reluctant to keep them. I’ve come to realise money’s held me back.’ She swilled the dregs of coffee around the bottom of her cup. ‘But EweSpeak could be Seth’s future. According to Rick, my son has a natural talent for technology.’ She sighed. ‘Any suggestions?’
‘I have a few, yes. And it’s wrong to judge Seth based on your mistakes.’
Victoria accepted the sisterly scolding. ‘You think I should set the shares aside?’
‘I think you’d regret selling them.’
‘Even to you?’
Juliette nudged her knife further onto her plate. ‘I don’t want them, Victoria. Keep them, put the dividends into trust for Seth, and when he’s eighteen, transfer the shares to him.’
Victoria leaned her elbows on the table. ‘How do I know he won’t make the same mistakes as me?’
‘You don’t. That’s life. Sometimes we get by on a wing and a prayer.’ Juliette smiled, and resumed eating her breakfast.
‘Winging it? That’s always your answer.’
‘It’s working for you, isn’t it?’
She had a point. ‘Well, I guess that’s decided then. I’ll set up a new account when I get home.’
‘Home?’ Juliette looked over the top of her toast. ‘You mean Portland, right?’ She grinned.
A warm, heady, brandy-like sensation spread throughout Victoria’s toes, rose up through her body, and settled on her lips. As her eyes and mouth responded, she said, ‘Yes. I mean Portland.’
It was news to her, too.
By the time Victoria and Seth reached the castle, they’d driven through three weather fronts, stopped for two comfort breaks, and argued once. On the whole, the journey had gone well.
Seth ran straight through the hall, into the conservatory and out onto the patio. Victoria followed, expecting to see Chris nestled in his porter’s chair. She was disappointed to find the room empty.
‘Can you see anyone, Seth?’ she called, stepping through the open doors.
‘I can see you,’ he replied, running into the woods.
‘Don’t’ go far.’ Victoria shivered. Something was wrong. ‘Chris? Rick?’ She wandered down to the waist-high boundary wall and scanned the area below. No one. Not even the fishing vessel was out at sea. It was all a bit Mary Celeste. Her stomach played Twister as her mind conjured with the possibilities. She screamed as large hands landed on her hips.
‘Vicky. I thought you’d left me.’
She was forced round so the base of her spine was resting against the wall.
‘Did I get your heart pounding?’ Tommy laughed, edging closer.
Victoria grabbed his wrists and pushed them away. ‘I was looking for Chris.’
‘What do you want with that loser?’ Tommy hitched himself onto the wall, and propped himself up by his hands. ‘I was thinking of you last night. You’re very sexy. A mother I’d like to—’
‘Dream on, Tommy.’ Victoria resisted the temptation to add or whatever your name is.
‘I’ll do that all right.’
In one smirk he conveyed all the things he’d like to do to Victoria. It sickened her, sending her insides on another rollercoaster ride. She pressed her hand into her stomach, and focused her mind on relaxing. Picture the ocean. Breathe with the ebb and flow. As the tension drifted out to sea, an image of Olivia floated into Victoria’s head. Wise old woman, she thought.
She walked away, refusing to respond to Tommy’s call of ‘You don’t know what you’re missing’.
Hopeful that Seth had found Rick and not strayed onto the beach, she headed for the woods. As she found the great oak, she saw both boys sitting on its prominent roots, drawing circles in the earth with dead twigs. ‘Everything okay?’
Rick jumped to his feet. ‘Mrs Noble. Victoria. We missed you. Good time in London?’ He gave her a brief, awkward hug, and invited her to sit with him and Seth.
‘I’d have loved to have been a tourist for the day, but it was all business, I’m afraid.’ She crouched, deciding the ground was more lunar-landscape than sofa.
‘It’d be cool to go. Perhaps …’ Rick hesitated, first looking at Seth, and then Victoria. ‘Perhaps I could go with you next time?’
Victoria nodded. ‘That’
s a great idea. We’ll take your dad, too. Any idea where he is?’
‘On the beach. I’m meant to be joining him, but I stopped here for a while. Can I show you something?’ He stood, took Victoria’s hand and helped her up. He led her round the back of the great oak and pointed to the base of its trunk. ‘Dad crashed his bike. There.’
Victoria watched as Rick ran his finger over the rough gouges. She’d seen the marks before. ‘Both your dad and the tree suffered wounds that day.’
‘You knew about this?’
‘He couldn’t wait to show me.’ Or kiss me. Or lie with me on the leafy ground and ask if I loved him. Victoria tutted with mock disapproval. ‘Typical man, flaunting his battle scars.’
Rick put his hands behind his back and leaned on them, against the oak. ‘Trees don’t repair injured wood. They sort of seal it off. Make out like it doesn’t exist. I think people can do that, too.’
His insight didn’t surprise Victoria – he was one of life’s philosophers – but his approach was a matter of concern. There was more to looking at the damaged tree than he was letting on.
‘So Dad brought you here?’ he asked her.
‘Yes. When we were dating.’
Rick’s expression brightened, as if a shaft of sun had broken through the forest canopy and kindled his face. ‘This was his special place. He said he wanted to share it with me because he loved me and knew I’d respect its history.’ He paused. ‘He didn’t tell me he’d brought you here.’
Victoria bit down on her bottom lip. Rick was making connections as fast as super fibre broadband. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘But if he trusted you with this place, he must have loved you.’
It wasn’t Victoria’s story to tell. ‘You should ask your dad that.’
‘Did you love him?’
Seth hopped from one root to the next until he too was looking at the scar. ‘Beetles live in there.’ He continued hopping. ‘I know a song about beetles. And a woodpecker who says knock knock.’
Follow Me Follow You Page 27