by Anna Jacobs
And not just for the obvious reasons. The marriage with Wayne might or might not last. Kerry suspected it wouldn't because he'd had three other wives already. But she intended to give it a good go and if not, come out of it with money. You could rely on money. People only let you down, usually when you most needed them.
Cal waited impatiently for someone to pick up the phone. 'Kerry?'
'Oh, it's you.'
'I want to see Lily.'
'Seeing you upsets her.'
'Stop playing games, Kerry.'
'The answer is no. She's not your daughter and you have to accept that.'
'Never!'
'Anyway, we're taking her down to Brighton for the weekend. A break will do her good. Perhaps the following weekend?'
Frustrated and afraid of doing something that would jeopardize his chances of remaining in his daughter's life, he put down the phone. He continued to email Lily every day but there had only been one email from her friend on her behalf. That could only be because Kerry was keeping her away from computers. He felt helpless, needing to fill the weekend with something, someone . . . but at the moment he didn't want to see his other friends, most of whom were either happily married with children or shacked up together testing out the possibility of marriage.
The happiness of such friends made him wish he had someone special in his life. On that thought Judith's face came into his mind and he shook his head to banish it. How stupid could you get? He'd only met the woman once. But the memory of her warm smile wouldn't stay banished and he was enjoying their email exchanges. She understood what it was to be separated from a child and seemed to be missing her son a great deal.
He would, he decided on the Friday morning, make an appointment for the following week to see someone at the Children's Department about his legal position with regard to Lily. If necessary he'd then get his lawyer to do whatever lawyers did in these cases - take out an injunction to stop Kerry taking Lily out of the country perhaps. He should have done something before but had been terrified of being told he had no rights whatsoever.
Kerry seemed so confident about her ability to take her daughter away from him and she didn't usually make mistakes about things like that.
In the meantime hard physical labour like spreading out a trailer load of muck would be an excellent way to work off some of the tension. He picked up the phone . . .
Judith spent a peaceful week, with no more tricks being played on her. The manure was a pungent reminder of her ex, though, and she didn't lower her guard about security, closing all the windows as well as locking the door every time she went out. She ordered a new security system to be fitted, resenting the money it cost, but needing it to stay comfortable in her own home.
Thank you, Des!
Cal emailed her on the Monday, thanking her for her hospitality and asking if there had been any more incidents. She replied and before she knew it they were emailing every evening about their daily lives. She visited his web site and it seemed to be a reputable business. Indeed, it was an elegantly simple site, unlike some of the cluttered, fussy ones she'd seen. She liked it artistically. She liked him too, had never taken to someone so quickly. It was as he'd said: it felt as if they were old friends.
Still feeling that she was marking time with her life, she started going through the house, doing what she could to set it in order without spending much money. Her aunt had let it get very run down as she grew older but Judith had sneaked out some furniture from her old home before she split up with Des. She must have been prescient! In storage in London she had the furnishings and equipment from her studio, every single thing, and also the stuff from a small sitting room they never used because Des said its colour scheme looked faded. She'd bet he'd not even noticed the things had gone, because he never went into either room.
The removal men who brought her things carried the old suite from the living room out to the shed for her. Her new suite looked perfect and she moved the smaller pieces of her aunt's furniture around until she was satisfied that her sitting room looked attractive in a comfortable, understated way.
The kitchen was extremely old-fashioned but that would have to wait until she reached a settlement with Des. She hadn't cooked for years and was starting to get her hand in again, had forgotten the sheer pleasure of making a dish that was exactly what you wanted. Her aunt had some lovely old-fashioned cookery books which didn't pretend that fat was a dirty word.
Mitch emailed her most days, too, amusing little messages telling her the latest jokes, mentioning some of the highlights of his week, giving her Gran's love, but saying little about his father. She missed her son greatly and sent him long emails in return, telling him all about her new house. She phoned him a couple of times too and they agreed that he and her mother would come to see her during the summer holidays.
When Cal repeated his offer to come and spread the manure for her at the weekend she hesitated, waiting several hours before replying. But after a week of solitude interrupted only by a visit to a physiotherapist to check how her knee was going, she was tired of being alone.
In the end she emailed back to say she'd love to see Cal, then wished she hadn't because she didn't want to give him ideas.
Or were the ideas simmering already in both of them? She couldn't help remembering, with a little shiver in her belly, how attractive he was.
James, who was Mark Felton's second in command at the private investigation agency, reported to Miss Corrigan on Thursday. He had quite a lot of news for her this time.
'Your brother's wife has gone up north to live in Lancashire and he is seeing a lot of Tiffany Roberts, his mistress of several years.'
'Is this Tiffany person of interest to us?'
'I shouldn't think so. She's not borne him any children. She's good-looking, another blonde - he does go for them, as you said - but unlike the other women, she seems genuinely fond of him.'
'I want to hear more about his son.'
'Mitch is well liked, not very good at sport, which upsets your brother, but ambitious and academically gifted, a straight A student. He's aiming for Oxford or Cambridge.'
'Does Des see much of him?'
'No. He took his son and mother-in-law out for dinner on the day his ex-wife moved up north, but hasn't seen them since.' James put a photograph on the table in front of her. 'This is quite a good one of Mitch.'
She picked it up with a hand that shook. 'Dear heaven!'
'Is something wrong?'
'He looks just like Leo as a boy, even to the red hair. I'd like to meet him. I think I'll write him a letter. Could you get someone to deliver it to him in person?'
'Is that wise, Miss Corrigan?'
'None of what I'm doing is wise, but see if you can arrange it anyway. What of my brother's other children?'
James put photos of each daughter down on the table as he summed them up. 'Lacey, the elder girl from his first marriage, is getting married next week. Big wedding, father paying for everything. She seems a nice young woman, is fond of her half-brother, but she's not nearly as intelligent as Mitch. She's quite good at golf and tennis, though, and Des has been paying to have her privately coached. Her sister Emma is doing well at university and is going on to do a postgraduate degree in Biochemistry. She might bear watching, too, for jour purposes.'
'Fine. What about the illegitimate child?'
'She lives with her mother. Des doesn't seem to have visited her or even met her, but he pays very handsomely indeed for her keep.'
'Hmm. I'll leave her for the time being.' Maeve leaned back, thinking about her options, knowing James would wait patiently. All Mark Felton's operatives were patient. I think I'd like to meet Mitch's mother before I contact him. It wouldn't be fair to make any offers to her son without telling her.'
'Do you think that's wise?'
'You keep using that word. It's not a concept that matters much to me now. I'll do what's necessary to make sure my hard-earned money isn't wasted and I'll do what pleases m
e.'
'Sorry, Miss Corrigan.'
'It's all right. One begins to think very differently when one's days are numbered.'
When he'd gone, she sat mulling things over, praying she'd have enough time left to make a sensible disposal of her wealth.
She hoped Leo's daughter would accept her offer to come to England. She felt a certain sympathy towards anyone trapped by illness and had asked Andy to research chronic fatigue syndrome for her and find out the best specialist dealing with it.
As for Leo's son, from all reports Jason was exactly like his father, content with moderate achievements, living for his family. She'd bet he'd not accept her offer to come to England.
How fecund her brothers were, damn them!
That evening Maeve shared her plans with Andy. 'I intend to write to Des's wife Judith, inviting her to come and visit me. Could you bring her here without him finding out? He's having her watched twenty-four hours a day, apparently.'
'Are you sure that's—'
Maeve held up one hand. 'Don't you start asking me if it's wise! I've finished being wise. I intend to be selfish and self-indulgent for what time I have left. And I intend to leave my mark on my family! They're not just getting my money, they're getting a few prods in the right direction.'
He grinned. He'd been the recipient of her prods early in their association, and was truly thankful for them when he looked back and saw how much stronger he'd grown because of her tutelage. 'They won't know what's hit them. But wise or not, I'll do whatever you wish and well you know it, you manipulative woman.'
She smiled at him, taking that as a compliment.
'When you write to Judith, tell her to phone me on my mobile and I'll arrange a meeting.'
Her hand rested briefly on his. 'Thank you.' Then she leaned back in her chair, looking tired again. I need another damned rest.'
He left the room quietly, hoping the new treatment was helping fight the cancer. She looked almost transparent, but she'd never looked as beautiful, and she'd lost some of that hard edge which had sometimes upset him. But then, he was too soft, he knew.
On the Friday Judith heard something fall through her letter box and went to pick up the envelopes from the hall floor. Two were bills, the other was cream in colour and looked expensive. She rubbed her finger across it, enjoying the texture and feel. She'd tried paper making once so could recognize quality.
In the kitchen she slit the envelope carefully because it was too beautiful to tear and spread out the single sheet of paper inside. It was from an address in Cheshire, not one she recognized, so she quickly scanned the letter, gasped in surprise and read it again more slowly.
My dear Ms Horrocks,
You may be surprised to hear from me, but I'm your ex-husband's sister and I'd like to meet you. Our meeting could lead to financial advantage to your son - but I must request that you don't mention this letter or anything that stems from it to Des, given his feelings about me.
I'm not in good health so cannot come to you. I wonder if you'd kindly come and visit me at your earliest convenience. If you ring the number below, my personal assistant; Andy Blauman, will make the necessary arrangements.
Maeve Corrigan
Judith stared at the letter, re-read it then stared into space. Des had never had a good word to say for his sister and if Maeve was using her to stir up trouble, then Judith didn't want to get involved. But she'd seen for herself how spiteful Des could be, so maybe his sister wasn't as bad as he said and . . . Oh, hell, she didn't need anything else to worry about. She'd just ignore this letter.
But the words 'financial advantage to your son' kept repeating themselves in her mind and in the end she dialled the phone number she'd been given. She put the receiver down again after one ring. No, she'd be foolish to get involved.
An hour later curiosity got the better of her and she pressed redial.
'Mr Blauman? Judith Horrocks here.'
'Maeve will be delighted you rang.'
'I'm still not sure whether to come and see her or not. I don't really want to get involved in my ex's family feuds.'
'The feud is on your husband's side only.'
'Yes, but—'
'Look, Miss Corrigan hasn't long to live. She has cancer, though we'd be grateful if you'd keep that to yourself. She's a wonderful, courageous woman and I'm sure she won't waste your time.'
Judith frowned. This put a new perspective on financial advantage for Mitch. And the way Andy spoke of his employer said a lot about her, too. She doubted any of Des's employees would praise him so unstintingly. Well, she knew for certain they wouldn't. He regarded all of them, except for Raymond Tate, as expendable and interchangeable. 'Very well. If you'll give me the address, I'll drive over to see Miss Corrigan.'
'There's a small problem. Are you aware that your husband has you under 24-hour surveillance?'
'What? No!'
'We'd prefer that he didn't know about this meeting.'
'So would I!'
'Then I suggest you drive to the Wheatsheaf Shopping Centre in Rochdale and I'll meet you there. You can leave your car in the car park and I'll drive you to Cheshire. Would next Monday suit you?'
'Yes.'
'Shall we meet at nine o'clock outside the bookshop?'
'Yes. How will I recognize you?'
'Trust me. I'll know you.'
When she put the phone down Judith didn't move for a moment or two. Trust me, he'd said. She wasn't sure she trusted anyone linked with the Corrigans. What the hell was she letting herself in for? If Andy Blauman knew her by sight, then it meant that someone else had been watching her as well.
But she had to admit she was curious to meet Maeve, after all Des had said about his sister.
Besides, Judith's new life was a bit lonely and not once had she been in the mood for painting.
Eleven
As the setting sun lengthens the shadows, ancient drystone walls pattern the lower slopes of the moors. Trapped between them, sheep punctuate the landscape.
Of such evenings were masterpieces painted Judith thought, gazing eastwards out of the kitchen window towards the moors. For the first time in many weeks she itched for her paints. She'd unpack them tomorrow, sort out the attic, make a studio for herself.
No wonder her aunt had loved this place. She tore herself away from the view that daily blessed her eyes and nipped upstairs. But she forgot to change her clothes and couldn't bear to switch on the light, because another view greeted her here, just as beautiful, and she could only stand at the window looking out at the gilded clouds floating across the western sky. Beauty, whether in large or small doses, never failed to move her.
It was not until she was drawing the curtains on the landing that she noticed the car parked on the road outside her gates. Same dark car, again with a solitary occupant.
That brought her back to reality with a thump and as she realized what its presence meant, she grew so angry that she forgot any questions of safety and ran downstairs. Flinging open the front door she marched across the road to rap on the tinted window of the vehicle. 'Get out! I'd like a word with you.'
She couldn't see his features clearly through the darkened glass, but she could see the lighter crescent of his teeth as his mouth dropped open in surprise.
While he was doing what she'd asked, she suddenly saw the camera lying ready on the dashboard and thinking of him taking sneaky photographs of her daily life or visitors was the final straw to send her anger blazing up to white heat. Snatching the camera, she hurled it as far as she could into the field beyond. 'Tell my husband he can go to hell! I'll do as I please and he can't stop me,' she yelled, then turned and marched back into the house.
From the bedroom window she watched in great satisfaction as the man clambered over the dry-stone wall and began searching through the tussocky grass for his camera. It took him a long time to find it.
Cal arrived in Blackfold just as dusk was blurring the landscape. The village street was quiet, except for t
he central area near the three pubs and chip shop. He drove through, smiling at the sight of groups of young people talking and gesticulating, some in couples, some standing alone, one trio sitting on a wall like carrion crows- why did so many of them wear black? He liked young people, had allowed one or two to spend time with him on work experience, and hoped he'd helped them. Most of them had been full of wonderful energy and enthusiasm.
At Judith's end of the village he saw a flash of light in one of the parked cars as someone lit a cigarette. After parking the bike, he looked in his rear-view mirror and realized that the car was ideally placed to see who came and went. That must be her ex having a watch kept on her.
When she answered the doorbell, she said only, 'Cal!' and smiled at him.
For a moment he stood smiling back at her, saying nothing.
She took a step backwards and gestured gracefully with one arm. 'Come in. I have a bottle of wine opened.'
'I'd better not. There's a man over there watching the house.'
' I know.'
'You do?'
She glared towards the car. 'Yes. I'd rather you came in openly. I don't want Des thinking he can stop me seeing people. He and I are permanently separated and I intend to do what I like with my life from now on. In fact, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, I hope he takes more photos of us.'
'If you're sure . . .?'
'I'm very sure.'
'Then I'll park the bike in its usual place and unload it. Did you put the blankets back in the shed?'
'No. I'm not having a friend sleeping out there when I've got several spare bedrooms empty here. I mean it.'
He grinned at her. 'You're in a stroppy mood today.'
She smiled back. 'I certainly am. I went across the road earlier and threw that man's camera into the field. It took him ages to find it again.'
Cal threw back his head and let out a shout of laughter.
'While you're getting your things I'll pour you a glass of wine. Red or white?'