The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  She was half-expecting him to elaborate, but he didn't, so for a while they sat without exchanging a word, toying with their coffee cups, immersed in private thoughts of pain, loss and despair. It was Jimmy who finally broke the silence.

  'Goodness, what have I been going on about? We've only just met and I'm banging on about my pathetic little troubles. And after all you've been through. I feel a right idiot. Look, I'll shut up right now.' Once more, the captivating smile.

  She took a sip from her coffee. 'No no, please don't worry about it. Everybody's pain is real to them, it's not a competition.'

  'You say that, but I've no idea how you've coped with everything.'

  The truth was she hadn't coped at all.

  'You just well -cope, you have no choice.' That, also, was not true. You can decide not to cope, not to carry on with your wrecked life, to put an end to the agony for good, like she had so nearly done not much more than a year ago. It was this memory more than any other that made sleep so difficult to attain, and it was this nightmare that shook her awake on the rare nights when she did manage to drop off.

  'But look, I mustn't keep you any longer. The fair closes soon, you'd better carry on with your job hunting. Thank you again for helping me.'

  He groaned. 'Aye, and welcome to the end of Jimmy Stewart's short but sweet hippy dream. Time to put on the suit, get a haircut and knuckle down to the nine to five. Time to get a proper job like my big brother.'

  'Is he a lawyer?' Maggie asked.

  'No, a copper. Detective Inspector actually, here in London somewhere. I don't know exactly what he does, except he works in some dodgy department or other. Detective without portfolio he always calls himself. To be honest, I think there might have been some incident a year or two back, but I'm not surprised because he's a complete nutcase and a piss-head into the bargain'. The tone was affectionate.

  'He sounds interesting, but talking of proper jobs, they probably won't start handing out offers until early in the new year at the earliest, so you've still got a bit of time left as a rebel without a cause.'

  And then from nowhere, she had a crazy idea.

  'Jimmy, now honestly please tell me right away if I'm being an idiot, but well, the reason I'm here is... I'm looking for an associate for my new business. I can't pay very much, not much more than minimum wage to be honest, but well, maybe it might tide you over for a few months and you could still apply to the big firms at the same time. And it might help you, you know, put some experience on your CV...'

  He laughed. 'That would be very beneficial. 'Experience: I spent six months working for the most hated woman in Britain'. No but seriously, that actually might not be such a bad idea. What exactly will the work entail, if you don't mind me asking?'

  She rummaged in her handbag for a few seconds, eventually emerging with a business card that she placed on the table. It read Bainbridge Associates - Investigation Services to the Legal Profession with a contact phone number and e-mail address.

  'In case you're wondering, Bainbridge is my maiden name. You see, I had no option but to start my own firm after...well, after everything that has happened. Nobody's going to employ me as a lawyer now, are they, let's be honest, and my friend Asvina says I need a job and an income and be able to show some stability in my life if... if I'm ever going to convince the courts to let me see Ollie again.' Once more she struggled to hold back the tears. 'I'm sorry Jimmy, look, just forget I ever raised this, it was a stupid idea...'

  He evidently did not agree.

  'No, not at all Maggie. You know, this might not be such a bad plan. For a start, I could certainly do with earning a few quid whilst I'm trying to figure out what to do in the long term. Go on, tell me more, I'm interested, honestly.'

  'Well, it's very dull work. We're not like the private detectives on telly, in fact we're not private detectives at all. We just do all the boring leg-work that needs doing in every big case but that the law firms can't justify charging their clients five hundred pounds an hour to do. So we check bank statements, verify the value of assets, do some basic internet searches on the other parties, that sort of thing. Mainly in the family law sphere, divorces, probate, property disputes...'

  Maggie knew all about the work of legal investigators, having used them plenty of times in the past, but at this moment her own firm could best be described as embryonic, a fact she did not try to conceal.

  '... I've made it all sound rather grand, but we've... I've only just started up and I don't actually have any paid work as of yet. But Asvina wants me to help her on a big divorce case she's about to kick off. In fact, I'm supposed to meet the client tomorrow for the first time. You could come along if you want, no obligation or anything, just to see if maybe it's something you would like.'

  'I'll do it,' he grinned, 'but do I need to get a haircut?'

  She smiled. 'No, but lose the AC/DC T-shirt if you don't mind.'

  'No worries, I washed my Zeppelin one yesterday. I'll wear that. No, don't worry I'll find something. Just text me the address and I'll see you tomorrow.'

  And so they shook hands on the deal, a strangely formal act considering the remarkable intimacy of what had gone before. An announcement over the tannoy signalled that the fair was scheduled to close in ten minutes. Maggie closed down her laptop, slipped it into its leather case and prepared to return to her cold lonely flat. But tonight, if only imperceptibly, something felt different, better. For the first time in over a year there had been ten minutes of her life when she wasn't thinking about Ollie and she wasn't thinking about the van crushing the life from her beautiful niece. It wouldn't last, she knew that, that would be too much to expect, but tomorrow after the client meeting she would at last sign off on the divorce - she knew she must, despite all the pain that it brought. Sign the damn form and wipe the slate clean. Encase the past eight years in concrete and try to forget.

  Then Asvina Rani would explain her plan for the custody hearing. Her one true friend Asvina, the most brilliant family law solicitor in all of London, and the person who had single-handedly kept her sane -just - throughout her trauma. Asvina would have a plan, a brilliant plan and soon, Maggie and Ollie would be reunited.

  Chapter 10

  Jimmy spotted her a few feet away in the crowd as he emerged into the street from the concourse. 'Morning Maggie, blooming nightmare this, isn't it?'

  True to his word, he had made an effort to smarten up. His hair looked freshly-washed and was tied back in a neat pony-tail. He wore a crisp light blue shirt with button-down colour and smart black jeans. The cowboy boots were still extant, but had been cleaned and polished and were relatively discrete, tucked under his trouser-leg.

  'Yes, it's this Palestinian peace thing, what a laugh that is. Philip and all his mates will be there of course, virtue signalling like mad. Arseholes.'

  They had agreed to meet up at the DLR station in Canary Wharf, five minutes' walk from the swish glass palace that housed the distinguished international law firm of Addison Redburn. It was approaching nine o'clock and the station was still packed with commuters, but today they were joined by the unsettling presence of heavily-armed police officers. This time it was just an exercise, in preparation for the conference that was due to take place in a few weeks’ time, but it was still unnerving for the worker-ants as they scurried about their business. Critics considered the conference a complete waste of time, nothing more than a vanity project by a dying administration, given that the US, the United Nations and, most conspicuously, Israel were not to be officially represented. This had not seemed to discourage Prime Minister Julian Priest, who was rolling out the red carpet for his old friend Miss Fadwa Ziadeh, the glamorous and charismatic new leader of Hamas.

  The law firm occupied all thirty- two floors of the waterside tower block and as befitted her status, Asvina Rani had been allocated an impressive south-west facing suite on the second-highest floor, commanding a view in one direction over the river to the picturesque Royal Borough of Greenwich, and
towards St Pauls and the City in the other. Her personal office had all the trappings of corporate success, some might say excess; upmarket furniture, tasteful wall hangings and on two sides, wall-to-ceiling windows. Outside her door, a small army of junior lawyers, paralegals and personal assistants beavered away to keep the whole lucrative show on the road. The need to keep this army fed was one reason why the services of Ms. Rani did not come cheap, but her results were often spectacular and few clients complained.

  A young PA had been sent to meet Maggie and Jimmy from reception and the high-speed elevator had taken less than a minute to deliver them up to Asvina's suite.

  'Miss Bainbridge and Mr Stewart,' she announced in broad Cockney, pushing open the door.

  'Thanks Mary.' Asvina got up from her desk and walked across the office to greet them. 'Using your maiden name again Maggie I see. That's a big step forward.' The friends hugged warmly.

  'And you must be Jimmy,' she said, extending a hand.

  'That's me,' he agreed, giving her the opportunity to witness his heart-melting smile for the first time.

  Mary returned with coffee and they took their seats around a large glass-topped conference table.

  'Asvina, I can't thank you enough for giving me this opportunity to get my firm up and running,' Maggie said. 'You know how important it is to me, with the situation with Ollie and all that.'

  'You don't need to thank me, I'm just pleased I can help.'

  Jimmy laughed. 'I've known her less than twenty-four hours and she's thanked me fifty times already. That's what she does.'

  Asvina nodded. 'I know, she's lovely, isn't she? Anyway, let me tell you both about the case.'

  She pushed a brown A4 folder across the table, spinning it round so that they could read the label on the front.

  Maggie looked surprised. 'Saddleworth verses Saddleworth? Not Gerrard Saddleworth surely?

  'The same,' Asvina said. 'The Right Honourable Gerrard Saddleworth, HM Government's esteemed Home Secretary. But actually it's his wife Olivia who's my client, not her husband. You'll get to meet her in ten minutes or so once I've given you some background. That's assuming you haven't met her before?'

  'I've been to one or two events the Saddleworths have also been at, I'm pretty sure of that,' Maggie said, wrinkling her brow, 'but I don't think I've actually spoken to her or been introduced. It's Philip and his brother Hugo who are old friends of Saddleworth and Priest, not me. From their university days.'

  'They move in high circles don't they?' Asvina said, smiling. 'But I assume you've read the tittle-tattle in the papers about Mr Saddleworth's affair with a journalist?'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Aye, with Penelope White of the Chronicle, I remember seeing the story somewhere. But hang on, wasn't it her who went for you big-time Maggie? The most hated woman in Britain crap, that was her doing.'

  'Yes it was,' Maggie said. And perhaps it was no more than she deserved, because there was no denying the fact that she and she alone had been responsible for the freeing of Dena Alzahrani. Setting the notorious Notting Hill bomber free to repeat her heinous crime, just one hundred days later. Setting her free to murder her beautiful niece Daisy. Setting her free to condemn Jules and Felicity Swift to a life of unimaginable pain. Set free by the stupid selfishness of Maggie Bainbridge.

  Jimmy was the first to notice her eyes moistening.

  'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring back the bad memories.'

  'Come on, let's get to work,' Asvina said, sensing the mood. She removed a sheaf of papers from the folder and spread them across the table.

  'This is what I have on the couple so far. So just for the record, they have one daughter, Patience, nineteen, and currently studying modern languages at Cambridge. Naturally, her future welfare is Olivia's priority. And this,' she said, pointing to a densely-printed spreadsheet, 'is the financial disclosure that we've got from her husband. Just one current account with Nat West, in joint names, that gets his parliamentary salary and a few thousand a year from his occasional guest appearances on an Andrew Neil TV show. About eighty grand in savings, mainly in bog-standard high street ISAs and NSI bonds, and a few thousand pounds’ worth of Footsie shares. And of course there's the future value of his minister's pension, at about forty grand a year for life, guaranteed against inflation. No other significant income declared on the register of member's interests, other than acting as trustee for a couple of charities, for which he received only expenses. The house in the constituency is in joint names, worth about £450k but with over £100k mortgage still on it. His London flat, allegedly the regular venue for carnal activity with one Penelope White, journalist, is rented. He's from a modest background, so no big fat inheritance to look forward to and no other significant assets to speak of. As I said, bog-standard and squeaky-clean. He's comfortable, but not a rich man by any stretch.'

  'So that all seems quite straightforward,' Maggie said, who had been listening intently, 'but there must be something else, otherwise why would you need us?'

  Asvina nodded. 'You're right. But I'll let Olivia tell you about that herself. I can see she's just arrived.'

  There was a knock on the door, Mary opening it just enough for them to make out her disembodied voice.

  'Mrs Saddleworth's here Asvina. Shall I bring 'er in?'

  Olivia Saddleworth was tall and slim but of rather plain appearance, although dressed head-to-toe with the expensive good taste of the prosperous country lady. Maggie estimated her to be in her early to mid-fifties, registering the Harris Tweed skirt, Barbour checked shirt and gilet, a pair of brown Duberry riding boots and the Mulberry handbag that she knew must have cost a thousand pounds or more. It seemed a bit out of place in central London and probably no less so in her husband's working-class South Yorkshire constituency.

  Asvina quickly dispensed with the introductions then said, 'Olivia, I've just been bringing Maggie and Jimmy up to speed with your situation. They're going to help us with the investigations into your husband's financial status. As I told you on the phone, their job is to find evidence of undisclosed financial assets but I don't want to hold up too much hope because it is a very difficult task. You know we can't force banks and other financial institutions to disclose their clients' private affairs, only the courts can do that. And we have to be as certain as we can be before asking the court to intervene, because if we're wrong they'll award costs against us, and it'll negatively prejudice any future applications.'

  'I understand Asvina,' Olivia said. 'I'll need to take that risk.'

  Asvina raised an eyebrow in Maggie's direction.

  'Olivia, I'm not sure you understand the level of costs we could be talking about here. I'm afraid you don't have the level of assets to survive a negative award. We are totally dependent on Maggie and Jimmy uncovering strong evidence if we are to make a court challenge.'

  Jimmy directed his smile at Mrs Saddleworth. 'No pressure then.'

  'So Olivia, perhaps you could tell Maggie and Jimmy why you are suspicious,' Asvina said. 'Specifically, the matter of the deposit box.'

  Olivia Saddleworth settled back in her chair, her expression suggesting she had been looking forward to this opportunity for some time.

  'I expect you all know about his... his affair with Penelope White. I'd confronted him about her, but of course at first he denied everything, so I started opening all his mail,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'It was quite easy, with him being in London all week. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, I don't suppose she was writing him love-letters or anything, but well... I just needed to do something.'

  'I can understand that,' Maggie said. She knew all about powerful men who had decided to trade in their wives for a younger model. She also knew that tampering with mail was illegal and therefore whatever Olivia was going to tell them might not be able to be used in court.

  'So, a week ago I found this.' From her leather attaché case she withdrew a glossy estate agent's brochure, the kind they only produce for their top-end properties, and place
d it on the table. 'Hampstead Heath. And do you see the price? Three and a quarter million pounds. He can't afford that on his salary.'

  'We can assume he is buying it jointly with White though, can't we?' Jimmy asked. 'She must be earning a good whack, national newspaper journalist and all that.'

  'Yes she will be,' Asvina agreed, 'but low six-figures at best I would guess, still not enough to buy that sort of place, I wouldn't have thought.'

  'That's true,' Maggie said, 'but I suppose just because he has asked for a brochure, it doesn't mean he is planning to buy it. Do you have anything else Olivia?'

  'Yes, well...I know... I know it sounds terrible but I've been going through all his pockets and some of his private files and well, I did find some things...'

  Maggie smiled. 'Been there, done that.'

  Mrs Saddleworth rummaged again in her attaché case and brought out two brown A4 envelopes. She shook out the contents of one of them onto the table.

  'Receipts for the type of hotels and restaurants that he never took me to. I assumed he was there with that bitch.'

  'Do you mind if I take a look?' asked Maggie softly. She knew from her own experience how hard this must be for her. Sifting through them, she saw there were more than a dozen large bills from some of the most fashionable, and in her opinion, most over-priced establishments in the country, mostly in London but some in the provinces too. Over five grand in total.

  'I don't suppose these could have been incurred on government business?' Jimmy asked.

  Asvina laughed. 'I don't think so, there'd be a taxpayers' revolt if this got out.'