The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

'Sorry if we're interrupting anything,' Maggie said brightly, 'but we wondered if we might arrange to have a word with you Mr Grant. Benjamin knows what it's about, I don't know if he's mentioned it to you at all. I'm Maggie Bainbridge by the way and this is my colleague Jimmy Stewart.'

  She extended a hand in his direction, which he accepted, giving her an uncertain look. His eyes had a haunted appearance, impregnated with a sadness that seemed to come from deep inside. Hardly surprising after all he had been through, and didn't she know what that felt like. Although thank goodness her own son had survived his terrible trauma. Just about.

  'And what do you two do?' he said suspiciously.

  'Ah, so Benjamin hasn't told you,' Maggie said. 'We're working with Melody's divorce lawyer, Asvina Rani. There's a little issue we're trying to get to the bottom of.'

  She saw Fox give a shake of the head as if to say see what I mean, then stand up and place a hand on Grant's shoulder.

  'I'll leave you to it mate,’ he said, wandering off. 'Catch you two later.'

  'Yeah sure Benjamin,' Grant shouted after him, before turning his attention to Maggie and Jimmy.

  'He did mention it. Some nonsense about a pre-nuptial agreement. So what's it all about?'

  Maggie smiled sweetly. 'Yes, that's right Mr Grant. A simple question, we just wanted to know whether you remember witnessing it or not? It would have been in the offices of Melody's solicitor, Blake McCartney. About four years ago.'

  'Yes, I remember.'

  'And I wonder, do you remember any of the contents of the agreement or did Mr McCartney explain them to you?' She guessed it was unlikely that he would remember, because in her experience, witnesses were happy to sign anything that was stuck in front of them. But his answer took her by surprise.

  'Well I don't remember the detail of course. But I did take the precaution of requesting a copy. I still have it somewhere I think. I can look it out if you'd like?'

  So far the difficult Charles Grant was proving anything but difficult.

  'Yes, that would be most helpful. But tell me, why did you request a copy?'

  He shrugged. 'I don't know. I guessed it was an important document so I thought I'd better keep one, that's all.'

  'Do you know that Melody is disputing Benjamin's version of the document?' Maggie asked him.

  He shrugged again. 'I didn't. We have to work together of course, but we're not exactly friends. So she wouldn't discuss things like that with me.'

  She remembered that his character Freddie Jack had once been married to Patty West, as played by Melody, so guessed they must have had a very close working relationship at one time. Maggie had always particularly liked his character. Freddie was one of life's losers, but the sort of guy the viewers felt sorry for, where every week they wished that just for once the poor guy would get a break. Rather like Charles himself, who had been dealt the cruellest of hands in real life. She just couldn't imagine how he had been able to carry on after what had happened to his little son. The agony of not knowing if he was dead or alive, his mind filled with images of what he might have gone through at the hands of his abductors. Then the rise of hope when the huge ransom was handed over, to be extinguished when the kidnappers failed to keep their side of the bargain. And now he would be longing each day that today there would finally be some news. But it had never come, and now deep inside he must know that all hope was probably gone. It had shattered his life and his marriage too, and now as far as she knew, he lived alone.

  'Intriguing,' said Sharon Trent, who had been listening rapt to the sparse interchange. And who had been directing her full attention to Jimmy. 'So do tell Jimmy, what's this all about exactly? Has Melody made the whole thing up? It sounds rather like it to me.'

  'I'm afraid it's confidential,' Maggie replied, butting in. 'We can't discuss the ins and outs of the case with you.'

  'Very well,' she replied, unperturbed. 'I know when I'm surplus to requirements. Jimmy, hand please.'

  She extracted a slim gold ballpoint from her clutch bag.

  'Give me your hand please,' she repeated, reacting to Jimmy's puzzled look. She took his hand in hers and carefully wrote her number on the back of it, followed by her name, in a delicate and precise script. As if he was likely to forget who had written it.

  'I know you'll want to call me. And darling, please don't wash it off by mistake. Now if you don't mind darling Charles, I'll leave you to your dull old document.'

  Maggie watched with rising anger as she walked away. Poor poor Charles Grant. The man had lost his son and his marriage and now seemed to be investing his hopes of the future in this, this brazen hussy. She couldn't see the relationship turning out well, no matter how you looked at it. But that wasn't the only thing that was exercising her. Because she couldn't help noticing that Jimmy Stewart already had a phone number scribbled on his other hand. Belonging to Melody Montague she had no doubt. Two women in the space of less than an hour. Bloody annoying.

  She noticed that Grant was giving her a curious look. And then he spoke.

  'I remember you of course, from the Alzahrani case. The most hated woman in Britain. Quite a label and quite a business that was. A terrible thing altogether.'

  'Yes, that was me I'm afraid,' she said quietly. 'It seems a lifetime ago now, but it’s only two years. The same time your little boy was taken. I remember it. I'm afraid it rather pushed your little Jamie's case off the front pages. I'm sorry about that. I can't even think how awful it must be for you, living with it every day. Not knowing what's happened to him.'

  A terrible sadness returned to his eyes.

  'You might have heard they've just closed the case. They don't say it in so many words of course, but they've taken the team off it so it amounts to the same thing.'

  Jimmy gave a sympathetic nod. 'They never let these things go Mr Grant. The file always stays open.'

  'It does,' Maggie said, but she knew the reality. Twice a year it would get a half-hearted look-over by some junior detective who wasn't trusted with anything more important.

  'I'm not so sure Miss Bainbridge,' Grant said, 'but I appreciate your concern. Both of you.'

  Suddenly Grant said, 'Would you take on the case?' Maggie thought she heard the words clearly enough, but was sure she must have been mistaken.

  'I'm sorry?'

  'You two are private investigators I'm given to believe? So I'd like you to take on the case. Find Jamie for me. I'll pay well.'

  It was Jimmy who answered first, raising his hands apologetically as he tried to overcome his surprise at the request. 'Well, just a minute Mr Grant. We don't do that sort of stuff I'm afraid. I mean divorces and fraud and the like... but we don't do criminal work. I'm not sure we're even allowed to. Don't you need a licence?'

  Maggie shook her head. 'No, that's not necessary here in the UK, but really Mr Grant, we're not the right choice for this. There are plenty of firms who are way more qualified than us. Most of them ex-policemen with years of investigative work under their belts. You'd fare much better with one of them.'

  He leaned across and placed his hand over hers. 'Look, I've been badly let down by the police. The man they had running it was a fool, and as soon as it started to look embarrassing on the statistics, they couldn't wait to push it into their cold-cases file. It's all very convenient for them because they get to close a live case and then it disappears into a black hole that no-one cares about.' There was a quiet desperation in his voice, the pain seeping out of him like blood from a deep wound. A wound that she knew would never heal until his son was found. Dead or alive.

  'You see, I need someone I can trust, and already I feel I can trust you. I don't know why I feel that way, but I always go with my gut.'

  She placed her free hand over his, clasping it tight. 'Mr Grant, we can't take this on in any formal capacity. As I've told you, we don't have any skills or experience in matters of this type. We'd be taking your money under false pretences if we were to accept.'

  'The police were usel
ess,' he said. 'Please, I really need this. Please.'

  Maggie could feel her resolve wavering. No matter how you looked at it, he would effectively be placing his future happiness in their hands. Of course she couldn't take this on, no matter how sorry she felt for him. That would be crazy. But she remembered how at her absolute lowest moment Jimmy Stewart had come along, quite out of the blue, and literally saved her life. Without his intervention, delivered by the fates without any warning, she did not know how she could have carried on. And now she recognised a fellow human being in exactly the same position as she had been back then. Charles Grant needed her help and not just to find out what happened to his son. He needed help to simply carry on with life.

  She leaned over, whispering so that Jimmy wouldn't hear.

  'We'll do it.'

  'I can't thank you enough,' Grant said, his voice wavering. 'You're my only hope now.'

  'We won't let you down Charles, trust me.'

  Behind her, Jimmy had caught on to what was happening and was whistling that damn tune again.

  ◆◆◆

  In recognition of their nobody status, they had been allocated seats towards the rear of the auditorium, tucked away on the far left. Maggie couldn't quite explain it, but she was feeling more than a little jumpy. Maybe it was because the evening hadn't gone so well with regard to the pre-nup business but whatever the cause, she would have given much for another prosecco, or indeed something stronger. Unfortunately, that option was not available since the organisers had prohibited the consumption of alcohol during the ceremony itself. It wasn't a popular move, but it was prudent given the number of car-crash moments that had scarred or enlivened previous events, depending on which way you looked at it.

  Had she been able to be honest with herself of course, she could have pinpointed at least one reason for her discomfort. It was Jimmy Stewart and his encounters with Allegra Ross and Sharon Trent and Miss Melody-bloody-Montague. Jealousy was such a destructive emotion, but it was easier to recognise than do something about. Actually it wasn't exactly jealousy, more a sense of possessiveness. In her mind he was her Jimmy, no-one else's, and at this point in her life, she didn't want any other woman taking him away from her. Not that it was likely of course, because right now Jimmy's only desire in life was making up again with his wife. So far, he'd got nowhere with that.

  She looked at him, and it was clear from his dour expression he wasn't enjoying the evening at all. And then she remembered. Astrid Sorenson, the Swedish country singer. The woman who had destroyed his marriage. Of course, he would have been to quite a few of these events as a plus-one with the beautiful singer. A do like this one couldn't help but bring back painful memories. She knew he didn't like to talk about everything that had happened, and she didn't like to pry. One day perhaps she would ask him.

  On entry they had been given a glossy programme laying out the running order for the evening. She groaned when she saw there were to be twenty-seven separate awards. And of course the big two, the only ones anybody was actually interested in, were scheduled right at the end. Best Actress and Best Actor, those were the ones that were most coveted. Before that, there was a pile of tedium to sit through. Agony.

  The event was being broadcast as-live to the nation's soap fans, of which there were many millions. As-live meant that there was time to cut and re-shoot any cock-ups or beep out any profanities that crept into the acceptance speeches. The stage was flanked by two large video screens on which the proceedings were being displayed. Several cameras raked the audience, all the better to capture the obviously-faked reactions when an artist either received an award, or in a ratio of three to one, was overlooked.

  Suddenly Jimmy nudged her with his elbow. Painfully. She let out an involuntary yelp.

  'Sorry,' he whispered, pointing up at the screen, 'but do you see that?'

  The cameras had picked out Benjamin Fox and Allegra Ross sitting together. It was clear from the scene being acted out that relations were strained. As he had reached across to take her hand, she had angrily pulled it away. He then leant across to try and kiss her cheek, prompting her to recoil and shoot a scowl in his direction. He tried again, to be met with the same angry reaction.

  'So?' Maggie asked, a little too loudly.

  A middle-age man sitting in front of them who Maggie recognised as the Daily Chronicle's entertainments editor turned round and gave a loud 'Shhh!'

  Jimmy gave an apologetic smile. 'Sorry mate,' he mouthed. 'But they're not exactly lovebirds are they? Not like Melody was suggesting.'

  She shrugged. 'He's an actor, she's an actress. It's what they do.'

  Two hours into the proceedings, and she was rapidly losing the will to live. All throughout the evening, bored celebrities had been slipping out to the bar when they were sure the cameras weren't on them, like escaping prisoners of war trying to avoid the camp searchlights. But now one by one they were beginning to dribble back to their seats in anticipation of the main awards.

  'It's best actress now,' said Jimmy, studying his programme whilst stifling a yawn, 'and I see that both Sharon Trent and our Melody are up for it.'

  'And they'd both like to get their claws into you, you babe-magnet,' Maggie said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 'I guess you'll pick whichever of them wins?' She wasn't sure whether her comment struck the right note but it was too late to take it back. Anyway, given how he felt about what he done to his ex-wife, she was fairly certain he wasn't likely to call either of them. At least she thought not.

  The presenters were now announcing the nominees, the video screens running short excerpts from presumably what was regarded as their best work. Shakespeare it wasn't, but there was no shortage of entertaining if over-the-top drama on display. Mercifully, the director had kept it short.

  'And to present the award, one of Britain's best-loved actors. From Bow Road, please welcome Mr Nice Guy himself, Charles Grant!' The young presenters turned to applaud as Grant bounded on stage left. He might have been Mr Nice Guy in Bow Road, but the less than tumultuous response he received from the audience tended to underline his real-life reputation as Mr Awkward. Not that he had been anything but nice to them.

  'Thank you, thank you,' he mouthed, waving a hand above his head.

  'Do you think they tell him in advance who's won it?' whispered Jimmy. 'He does look very pleased with himself.'

  'What, does that mean it must be Sharon?' Maggie asked.

  She didn't have to wait for his answer, as Grant tore open the envelope and without looking at the card, pointed triumphantly to where his girlfriend sat. 'And the winner is -of course - the delectable Miss... Sharon... Trent!'

  The cameras caught her as she placed both hands over her mouth in fake astonishment. Maggie thought she might even have seen a tear. How did they do it, that crying to order? She supposed they must learn how at drama school. Naturally the director wanted reaction shots from the unlucky losers. Two out of the three managed the obligatory forced smiles and half-hearted applause, but not Melody Montague. Back in the control room, the director let out an expletive and screamed a panicky command. 'Cut, cut, stop the frigging broadcast! Christ, does she want to get me fired?' Simultaneously, the audience let out a sharp gasp followed by waves of laughter. That's what happens when a famous actress is caught giving the one-finger salute to camera.

  The director was now on-stage, apologising for the delay and explaining that they would have to re-shoot the scene. The audience, experienced thesps who knew how these things worked, were already slinking out to the bar.

  It was ten minutes before the director returned to the microphone and requested everyone took their seats for the retake. Out in the bar, production assistants ushered reluctant drinkers back into the auditorium. The retake passed without further incident, and soon it was time for best actor, the pinnacle award of the evening.

  'Whoa, do you see this?' Jimmy said. 'It's only flipping Montague who's presenting this one.'

  Melody, seemingly unfazed b
y the earlier excitement, had slipped in a costume change in preparation for her presenting duties. Now she wore a glittery gold mini-dress that was tighter, shorter and more revealing than her earlier outfit, an effect that Maggie would have believed impossible if she wasn't seeing it with her own eyes. Just as well Jimmy's brother Frank isn't here she thought, or he would have a flipping heart-attack. To her left, Jimmy was staring at the stage, open-mouthed. Even him. That was the general problem with men. They were so shallow.

  As Melody glided onto the stage, the audience were on their feet, cheering wildly as she took a mock bow of acknowledgement. It was half a minute before the noise subdued sufficiently for the presentation to continue. Back at home, the viewers must have been wondering what all the fuss was about.

  'Thank you all,' she said, smiling an obviously confected smile. 'Before announcing the award for best actor, I would like to extend my congratulations to Sharon...' She paused. One or two people clapped, uncertainly, then quickly stopped as they realised they were alone. 'I'd like to... but I'm not going to, the bitch.' There was an awkward silence, and then, deciding it must be a joke and that Sharon must be in on it, they began to laugh. Two rows back from the stage, Trent sat stony-faced, drawing daggers and swearing revenge under her breath. Backstage, the director took another large swig from his hip-flask and prayed that it would soon be over. Him, and most of the audience too.

  Unfazed, Melody tore open the envelope and took out the card. 'Now ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for...' She screwed up her eyes to focus on the name, then scowled as she saw who it was. The producers must have known in advance that her ex-husband Fox was the winner when they picked her to present the award, but evidently decided to risk it.

  With some effort, she managed to compose herself.

  'And the winner is...my wonderful friend from Bow Road... Mr Benjamin Fox.'

  As the audience burst into applause, the cameras scoured the room, looking for the winner. In vain. The reluctant hand-holder Allegra Ross was there, but beside her the seat Benjamin Fox had occupied was empty. On stage, the young female host was struggling to concentrate on the torrent of words the director was delivering into her earpiece. But presently her poise returned, along with her trademark beaming smile. 'So ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid Benjamin is unable to join us tonight, but to accept the award on his behalf, please welcome back to the stage Mr Charles Grant.'