For three years I ran Terminal Two with my brilliant staff. It was a wrench to send Callum off to America and for the entire month after he left I slept in his bed, refusing to change the sheets because I couldn’t bear to wash out the smell of him. But I knew that he was following his dream and I didn’t want to hold him back.
With our son gone, the house seemed empty, and it forced me to look at my relationship with Stuart anew. My husband spent his time either drinking with his pals or taking tea at the cafe; he liked to keep an eye on me, especially now that my hard work in the gym was paying off. After months of regular exercise, I became a trim size eight again, so I stopped wearing shapeless trousers and started to enjoy buying nice clothes to suit my figure. I even dared to wear dresses again, something Stuart had forbidden years before.
And Stuart hated it; his jealousy and possessiveness got worse by the day. Now he took my phone when I was in the shower and read all my text messages. I was never allowed to go out and meet friends on my own. He timed me from all my meetings and errands and if he thought I had been at the gym or Waitrose longer than was necessary I would feel his wrath. He would take my car keys away, take my wallet, take my house keys and leave the house, locking me in. I was literally a prisoner in my own home.
I never confided in anyone or asked anyone for help. Partly it was because I was embarrassed about his behaviour and my inability to stop him. But there was another side to it too. He would remind me over and over again that I belonged to him. If I dared to think about leaving him he would do horrific things to me – not kill me, but disfigure me, disable me, leave me in a pitiful state so no one would want me. That was chilling. So, despite myself, I stayed. I stayed because leaving felt like suicide.
Eventually, in 2001, when I was thirty-two, I received an offer for the lease of the coffee shop.
‘I’m shutting the cafe,’ I told Stuart that night when I got home. ‘I’ve had a good offer on the lease and I’m going to take it. I can’t bear the early mornings anymore and I’m tired. I’m really bloody tired.’
‘What? You can’t do that!’ Stuart’s face fell. I noticed that his wrinkles were now so deep they looked like permanent folds in his face. He had aged badly over the years.
‘I need £1,000 a week to live and I need you to work,’ he went on. ‘I’m certainly not going back to work. Do you know who I am? What I represent?’
Finally, I snapped.
‘Yes, you are right, I will work,’ I said quietly. ‘I will work and I will have money but you will have none, so again I suggest you go cap in hand to that cousin of yours and have this conversation with him. I have no idea what you own, all I have is words. You do not contribute and I do not need to keep you. I have one dependent, not two.’
‘You think that all this is yours? The house, the cars, the properties? You have nothing, Dawn. I’ll make sure you never work in this town again. The cars – I’ll smash them up. I’ll take the house and the properties so fast you won’t know what’s hit you. I’ll cut your hair when you’re asleep and I’ll throw acid in your face so no other man will look at you. Don’t think for a minute you can get away with this, Dawn, because you know what I’m capable of. You saw what happened to Maria.’
I sighed. Conflict wasn’t the right strategy to use with Stuart – he always went on the attack, like a vicious dog. No, I needed to be smart, to bide my time. What I needed above all was his trust. Quickly, I changed tack.
‘Look, Stuart, I love you,’ I said in a soft, conciliatory voice. ‘And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But we don’t want to slave away till we’re old – and we don’t have to! I’ve had a good offer on the cafe and, if you go to see Adam, we’ll have that money too. Together, we’ll reinvest all that capital and make some proper money. I’m talking big money, Stuart. You deserve this, Stuart. We both do!’
He looked at me hopefully then, and I could see he wanted to believe me. This was it – I knew I had him!
‘Look, we’re on the same side,’ I went on, stroking his arm. ‘It’s silly being at war with each other. We can do this together. You know what I can do with property, you know I’ve got the acumen to make us a fortune.’
For my plan wasn’t just to buy the properties and rent them out as they were. That would never have been enough for me – it might have been how Adam and Stuart had always worked, but I was far more creative. I genuinely enjoyed the challenge of refurbishing old flats and selling them on for a profit and not just because there was good money to be made this way. It was more the transformation I enjoyed: taking something shabby and unloved and turning it into a beautiful home. I loved the creative and practical challenges of making something lovely out of a wreck. I guess you could say I’d had enough practice in my own life of doing that.
Stuart, of course, only ever focused on the bottom line – and that’s what I focused on now too.
‘Just think of it – all that money in your hands again!’ I said persuasively. Stuart was a man who liked to see things before him: wads of cash, little girls in their school uniforms. The paper fortune of Mayfair Holdings really wasn’t his thing. I saw his eyes light up and pressed home my advantage.
‘So . . . what do you think of this plan: I drive you round town tomorrow and you can point out all the property you own with Adam. Then we’ll sit down and work out the values and we’ll see about a sensible split so that when we go to Adam, we’ll already have our own proposal.’
Stuart was nodding enthusiastically.
‘You’re cousins, you’re the best of friends,’ I reminded him. ‘And I’m sure if you tell him what you want he’ll let you take your money.
‘After all, why would he want to stand in your way?’
Chapter 19
Uncovering a Betrayal
I hit the ‘return’ button and the page on the Land Registry website refreshed. For a moment I just stared at the computer screen, letting the information sink in. It seemed unbelievable – but here it was in black and white. The facts were undeniable. Stuart and Adam’s company – Mayfair Holdings – no longer owned the commercial building in Margate Street which Stuart had shown me that morning. It had been sold to another company called Salisbury Alliance in 1992.
My heart raced as I realized the implications of what I had discovered. Adam had sold the building from under Stuart’s nose without telling him. He had betrayed him.
‘Stuart!’ I called out to my husband, who was busy watching CSI in the living room. ‘Stuart, I think you better come and see this.’
Earlier that morning, in August 2001, I had driven Stuart around Glasgow so he could find all the blocks of flats and commercial buildings that he owned with his cousin in order to make a proper inventory of their joint assets. He had nothing in writing himself because Adam looked after all the paperwork. That afternoon, he handed me the list we’d compiled from our sortie. It was 100 per cent correct, he assured me, since he had personally overseen building work in all of them.
I had agreed that I would research property values for the ten commercial buildings and twenty blocks of flats in order to make an accurate estimate of the total worth. But, first, I thought I had better make sure that he had got the right buildings, so I did a quick title search on the Land Registry. To my amazement, I found that Stuart had indeed got the right building on Margate Street, but it was no longer his.
‘Look at this.’ I pointed to the computer when he came into the room. ‘This is the Land Registry website which lists the titles of all property in the UK. That commercial block on Margate Street isn’t owned by Mayfair Holdings any longer. It was sold to a company called Salisbury Alliance in 1992. Nine years ago!’
‘What?’ Stuart was baffled, uncomprehending. ‘No, that can’t be right. Are you sure you’ve got the right building?’
‘Yes, positive,’ I said, seriously. ‘Stu, do you know who owns Salisbury Alliance?’
‘No idea. Never heard of them. Look, are you sure that thing’s right?
I can’t believe it.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure. But let me do a few more searches. I think we better get to the bottom of this.’
I did searches on all the properties in the end and found that four of the largest commercial buildings previously owned by Mayfair Holdings had been sold to Salisbury Alliance. Just on instinct, I then did a title search on Adam’s house – bingo! As I suspected, it was owned by Salisbury Alliance. You sneaky little bastard, I thought to myself, as I realized what was going on. Adam had been transferring the properties to himself – in other words, putting all the assets under his control and not telling his so-called business partner anything about it. I had known he was up to something all this time. The fact that he received a pittance from a business allegedly worth millions was enough to arouse my suspicions, but I had no idea he would simply be stealing the property from his cousin. Well, that’s the nature of the beast, I thought. Adam is a first-class bastard and here is the ultimate proof. Sighing, having completed my investigations I called Stuart back in. This was not going to be easy.
‘I’m sorry, Stuart, but you don’t own the blocks on Princess Street, Daimler Avenue or Grove Road either. Adam transferred them to Salisbury Alliance. Salisbury Alliance is another offshore company, Panamanian-based, and it owns your cousin’s house too. So it must be Adam’s company. I’m really sorry, Stuart.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He was angry now. ‘Show me! Show me the proof!’
I had printed out all the pages from the internet and I handed them to Stuart. One by one, he went through the documents, hardly able to believe what he was reading.
‘It can’t be,’ he kept saying to himself. ‘It can’t be right. This block is still in our company accounts. We’re getting rents from it. I saw it in our accounts this year.’
I didn’t want to state the blindingly obvious but it seemed I needed to.
‘It’s a trick, Stuart,’ I said patiently, as if explaining to a child. ‘He’s putting them into the accounts to stop you getting suspicious. The deeds prove you don’t own them.’
‘He’s . . . he’s betrayed me?’ Stuart gasped. The full horror of what his cousin had done to him was now beginning to sink in. ‘He’s just stolen the fucking buildings from under me?’
‘Did you sign stuff, Stuart? I mean, did you ever sign things which you didn’t read?’
‘ALL THE FUCKING TIME! You know I did! I trusted him!’
I just sat and shook my head. It was all an act, of course. I wasn’t terribly surprised that Adam had double-crossed Stuart. Stuart had been a buffoon to trust him with his money. I had suspected for years that his cousin was screwing him for rents, but then, Stuart was never that smart. It was his cousin who had been the brains behind their success; he had simply carried Stuart with him. Well, at some point he’d clearly got sick of carrying him and he started to take it back. But now this devastating act of deceit had played right into my hands. Stuart was definitely going to confront his cousin now – and it would be two against one as we fought for the assets.
‘I’ve worked out there’s about £3 million missing,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s true that your portfolio would be worth about £7 or even £8 million today if it was made up of all the properties on the list. But with the biggest four gone, it’s probably only worth about £4 million.’
‘What – £3 million? He’s stolen £3 million from me?’ Stuart was in a state of shock and he couldn’t stop the stunned tears now openly rolling down his face. Inside, I felt a strangely satisfying sense of justice. Money was all Stuart ever cared about and now the one person he’d trusted most in the world had stolen the thing he loved best.
Though I wasn’t proud of myself for feeling it, it was a treat to watch him suffer for a change. Finally, after all the hurtful things he had done to me, I couldn’t help taking some pleasure from his pain. He was finally getting what he deserved. And I realized something: if I ever wanted to hurt Stuart, really hurt him, I saw that this was the only way. He cared nothing for people or even family ties – money was his Achilles heel. Money was his world. Cash was Stuart’s first and truest love.
‘Dawn! Dawn, you’ve got to help me,’ he sobbed, a wreck of a man. ‘Dawn, will you help me get my money back?’
Now I poured him a large glass of wine. I was the one he trusted now, the only one, and I had to use that new power to my advantage.
‘Of course I will, darling,’ I soothed. ‘You know I will.’
That first night Stuart grieved. He grieved for the cousin who he’d thought had loved him and he grieved for his missing millions. He didn’t even think about the rents going back years, it was the fact that the properties weren’t even owned by his company any longer that cut him up.
The following day, he had switched – now he was angry and he wanted revenge. Adam had stabbed him in the back and he wanted justice but he didn’t want to confront his cousin directly, he said, or he wouldn’t get anywhere. So he rang him up and put the call on speakerphone so I could listen too. They had a very brief chat first, about a car they were buying through a friend, before Stuart asked casually: ‘By the way, Adam, have you heard of a company called Salisbury Alliance?’
There was a moment’s silence before he answered: ‘Who?’
‘Salisbury Alliance. The name’s cropped up recently and I wondered if you knew who owned it.’
‘Salisbury Alliance,’ Adam muttered carefully. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard of them. Why? What have you heard?’
‘Oh, not much. I just wanted to know who the owners were.’
‘Yeah, well, I can’t really talk now, Stu. Erm . . . are you around later? I’ll pop round.’
‘Yeah, I’m in. I’ll see you later.’
The phone went dead and Stuart looked at me, his eyes blazing with rage.
‘He didn’t know what to say, did he?’ he said. ‘He knows he’s been caught.’
‘Look, Stuart, I think you’ve got to get your money back. Today.’
‘Too fucking right. I’ll tell him when he comes round – I want my money out. And then we’ll see what he says. I’d like to fucking hear what he says about that.’
At around 4 p.m. Adam’s Jaguar rolled up to our gates and we buzzed him in. We’d agreed that Stuart would do the talking but I wanted to be in the room, just as a backup. We were most definitely in this fight together now.
Adam came cockily into the lounge, a large fake smile covering his discomfort. He wore a white shirt, denim jeans and a dazzling mouthful of veneers which had cost him a small fortune. He was clearly rattled from the conversation earlier but he didn’t want to show it, prattling on for a minute or so about what a busy day he’d had while Stuart just stood at the French doors, staring out onto our garden. Stuart, casual in a pair of grey jogging bottoms, didn’t even turn around to welcome his cousin and felt no need for any small talk.
Suddenly, Stuart interrupted Adam in mid-flow: ‘Adam, I want my money out of Mayfair.’
‘Excuse me?’ Adam looked down at me where I sat on the sofa, flicking through a magazine. He gave me a quizzical half-smile, as if to say – what’s going on? I smiled sweetly back at him. We’ve got you, you little rat. Now let’s see you squirm.
Stuart didn’t answer him – instead he turned round and stared at his cousin and for the first time Adam saw the fury in Stuart’s eyes. Still, he tried to play dumb: ‘Stu, why do you want to split the company up after all these years? I don’t understand.’ He was asking Stuart, but his eyes were firmly on me. ‘Remember, this is the safe card, Stuart,’ he went on, still glaring at me, his voice dripping with insinuation. ‘Mayfair is our safety net, for a lot of reasons. Not least, to stop people –’ another pointed look at me ‘– taking our money from us.’
‘I want my money out, Adam.’
‘Why? What do you need the money for, Stuart?’
Stuart, stupidly, replied: ‘I want to buy a house in Portugal and I want to buy a car for Callum.’
‘Okay, okay. Show
me this house in Portugal, I’ll tell you if it’s any good.’
At that point, I had to intervene.
‘Hang on a minute.’ I put my hands up in the air, like a referee halting a football match. ‘Stop, Adam. You are not in this marriage. This is my life. And if Stuart wants his money, for any reason whatsoever, just give it to him.’
‘Okay. Okay . . .’ Now Adam pulled out a cigarette and clamped it between his teeth as he fished around in his pockets for his silver lighter. He looked mad as hell. I exchanged a look with Stuart – what will he do now? we both wondered. Adam lit his cigarette and took a long pull on it, then started pacing up and down the living room. He was thinking about his next move. But Stuart didn’t give him time to think.
‘So I’ve done a calculation of all the blocks,’ Stuart began. ‘And I’ve worked out that it’s worth £7 million. We can either split the company down the middle, splitting up the properties, or you can give me cash.’
Adam was pacing anxiously now, murmuring to himself: ‘Seven million. Right.’
‘I mean, I don’t know if cash is an attractive option for you, Adam, so it might just be best if we each take half the properties . . .’
‘Yeah . . . I see. Well, I’ll have to go away and think about this . . .’ Adam was stalling for time. He knew he was in trouble.
‘Tell you what, I’ll come down to the office tomorrow and we’ll hammer it out.’ Stuart pushed home his advantage. He was clearly sick of taking instructions from his cousin and he wasn’t going to give him any more time than he had to.
The next day, I drove Stuart to the office at 9.30 a.m., by which time Adam had changed all the locks and instructed his security not to let him in. I knew instantly why he’d done that – there was obviously a whole stash of paperwork that he didn’t want Stuart to see.
‘I’m really sorry,’ said the burly security guard in the black bomber jacket. ‘We can’t let you in. I suggest you speak to Adam about it.’
I Own You Page 22