Connections (36 page)

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Authors: Hilary Bailey

BOOK: Connections
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Ben said, to all three of us, “This is Fleur's stepmother, Lady Jethro.

I knew that, because I'd seen her picture in
Hello!


I must be going,” I said to Fleur.


Me too,” said Dominic. “Sorry to dash off, Fleur.

Joe didn't say anything, just picked up his coat and headed for the door. An unceremonious departure.

Outside the garages was a black Rolls-Royce with a peak-capped chauffeur standing by it, looking around warily and smoking a cigarette. The lights of the Findhorn Star lay ahead, inviting us. Heedless of the possibility of a lone gunman on a grassy knoll nearby we went inside, followed by the dog.


Whisky?” I offered. “Scotch or Irish?” Joe and I had a Scotch and Dominic a glass of Paddy.


Back so soon?” said the landlord to me when I bought them.


This place drew us back like a magnet,” I told him.


Give him this, will you?” he said, indicating Dominic and handing me the key.


That is some stepmother,” Joe said, stunned, when I sat down. “Dominic – you're the man for a bit of posh. Tell me what to do to
—”


Fuck off, Joe,” said Dominic. “Sam – or is it Julian? – do you think Fleur's in any danger?


I don't know,” I said. “What do you think?

He said thoughtfully, “From the minute she told me about her father finding her I knew if she took money from him she'd move away. And from that moment he's been trying to get her to take it. That woman's not therefor nothing. Ben might think he's bringing about a family reconciliation, but my idea is that they've been looking for the chance to get her back. She's made it obvious she doesn't want anything to do with them – and they're still chasing her. If anything, her father's trying to protect her. It's this Tallinn I'm worried about. Do you know where he is?


Probably Moscow,” I said. “The Germans want him and he's got no reason to trust the Brits.


That's good news, if it's true,” he said.


I'm worried about what she's telling her stepmother and that prick of a boyfriend,” Joe said.


She won't say anything,” Dominic told him. “Joe, I'm going to sneak back to the flat for my stuff. I'll get yours too, if you want. Passports too. You'd better go and hang out at Melanie's.


Now you're talking,” I told him.

He told the dog to stay behind. Joe looked down at the animal,
frowning. “He thinks it's too risky there to take Jason,” he said. “That's a bad sign.” He looked at me angrily. “I'm pissed off with this, really pissed off,” he said. “I was happy before all this.


Don't shoot the messenger,” I said. “Have you two got mobile phones?

They had. I took both numbers and gave him mine.

We had another drink, mostly in silence. “I really don't understand all this,” Joe said.


Nor do I,” I said. “It may blow over. Most things do.


Storm in a teacup,” he said with gloomy cynicism.

Dominic came in with a plastic bag, presumably containing the bare necessities of life on the move. He reported, “I called Fleur and told her not to say anything to her stepmother or Ben.


What did she say?” asked Joe.


She said was I mad. Of course she wouldn't.


That Ben's really keen on the Jethro millions, isn't he?” Joe said. He turned to Dominic. “Dom – if we have to leave the country and smuggle Jason back in one more time I'll be really annoyed.

I didn't stay for the debate but stood up. “I'm off,” I said. “Keep in touch.

I was going down to Goolies' place to arrange transport out of the country. Once the Protheros, Pughs and their masters realised I wasn't going along with the plan to eliminate Dominic and Joe they might put out a warrant for my arrest, so I had to avoid going through the standard checkpoints. My arrangements depended on the availability of a man, a small boat and the right tide, so it could take a day or two, and meanwhile I wasn't about to tell Dominic and Joe what I was going to do. Alliances can shift, in days, in hours
…


Best of luck,” I said. I was starting to move off when I sat down again quickly, turning my head away from the window.

Dominic glanced at me, then quickly from the window. He saw what I'd seen and said in dismay, “What's she doing?

Fleur, Ben and Sophia Jethro had just got to the foot of the steps of Adelaide House and were moving towards Sophia's car.


Has she shopped us?” asked Joe.

Dominic told him, “She's going back to Jethro's to play the girl detective. Find out what's going on.


You're kidding,” I said. “Would she do that?


Oh yeah,” he told me. “She's got a big space in her head labelled Joan of Arc. I don't like it. It could be risky, even if Jethro is her father. I mean, we don't know what's going on. And is he really going to hand over the password to his computer? Or whatever? Could she make any sense of what she finds out? This is stupid.


Could do more harm than good,” Joe said gloomily.


Quixotic's the word,” Dominic said grimly.

I wasn't depressed. I said encouragingly, “Sometimes women can be very intuitive. They can put things together from very tiny clues.


You don't know Fleur Stockley,” Dominic said. He hit the table, hard. “This table's more intuitive than her.


She's doing it for you,” I said encouragingly. It was very much in my interest that she found out as much as possible – and then told me.

Dominic was still upset. Then his mobile went and he answered it. “Hullo, ducks. Are you? OK – I've got that. See you soon.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “That's her – speaking from the phone in the Rolls. She's gone to stay with the family in Eaton Square. She couldn't say much, in front of the others.” He paused, “That's it, then. Fleur Stockley, crime buster. I wish she wouldn't.


She'll be all right,” I assured him. “She's staying with her family.

He looked at me cynically. “You know better than I do what those people are like. You threaten their interests and you end up on an island, or in a private loony bin.


I'd better go,” I said. “Keep in touch.


Right,” said Joe Carter. He didn't like or trust me. I didn't care. But Dominic stood up and shook hands gravely, like a little gentleman.

I went over to get my other car from the lock-up at Waterloo
and drove down to Kent. I was thinking that this situation might smoke a bit and go out like so many did, or suddenly burst into flame. Sometimes you just couldn't tell. My own priority was to make myself scarce for as long as necessary.

Twenty-Six

The party in the drawing-room at Eaton Square later that evening consisted of Fleur and Sophia, Ben and Valentine Keith. They had had dinner together. Fleur's father had not been there. He was still at the bank.

Sophia leaned back in her chair, allowing herself to look a little weary. “I'm so glad you came, Fleur,” she said. “And Dickie's delighted to know you're here too. He was upset at first, when you disappeared. Then he said you reminded him of himself when he was younger: impulsive and full of ideas.”

Fleur did not know how to reply, but Ben responded smoothly, “That's Fleur. Impulsive but always well-meaning.”

Fleur smiled but inwardly she was very ill at ease. The ugly story involving her father on that night in Gordon Mews was haunting her.
If
it was her father. And then there was Tallinn. And some crazy plot to kill Dominic and Joe. She didn't understand anything. She hardly knew why she was at Eaton Square. No one would tell her anything here. She would not be able to affect anything, either. She'd come because the alternative, hunkering down at Adelaide House and pretending nothing was happening, seemed worse. What she really wanted, she realised, was to prove that her father had not been at the mews house, had not protected the man who had assaulted Vanessa and was therefore not guilty of anything.

Valentine was looking at his watch. “I said I'd meet Dickie here, later. I don't suppose he mentioned when he'd be back.”

“He didn't, actually,” Sophia said. “I don't suppose he'll be long. It's after ten. Why don't you have another drink while you're waiting?”

“It does seem late. What's keeping him, do you think?” Fleur asked, feeling foolish. As if Sophia would tell her – as if Sophia would know – as if the answer mattered.

“Probably talking to someone in the USA,” Sophia said equably. “Business is a great strain these days, with so many time zones involved. When I was a little girl Father would have breakfast with us, go out to his office at ten and return at five to spend some time with us and dine with Mother and friends – oh, it is very different.”

But at that moment Fleur's father came in, kissed his wife, greeted Fleur and the others. He poured himself a whisky, and looked at Fleur. “I hope you'll stay a little longer this time,” he observed, smiling. “Or shall we have to lock all the doors?”

This was a joke, but Fleur felt unaccountably alarmed. The sheer thought of being trapped at Eaton Square terrified her.

“I told Sophia how like me as a young man you seem to be,” Jethro went on. “It must be genetic.”

“I don't think Fleur has quite your gift for finance,” Ben said.

“Who knows?” Jethro said.

There was a silence as the other people in the room considered this statement. Because Jethro was controlling the drawing-room like an actor on stage, no one spoke for a moment. Then Sophia said, “Are you tired, darling?”

“Tired – no,” he said. “But I have some more calls to make. I'll go to the study. Valentine – you needn't stay, but drop in to the study for a word before you go. Ben, old chap – goodnight – good to see you again.” To Fleur he said, “I'm sorry to depart like this. I hope we'll meet at breakfast, for a chat.”

Ben, at first by implication included in the invitation to Fleur was now, by implication again, excluded. Dickie Jethro had bade him farewell.

Valentine, ever sensitive to his uncle's desires, stood up and said, “I'll be off – Ben, can I drop you somewhere?”

Ben paused for a second, to give Sophia a chance to interject, then said easily, “Chelsea OK for you?”

“Sure,” Valentine said. “I'll just go and see Dickie for a moment.”

Ben came over and kissed Fleur, “I'll ring in the morning,” he said. “Have a lovely sleep.”

Fleur didn't ask who he was going to stay with. It crossed her mind Chelsea wasn't his real destination. He would just get out of the car in fashionable Chelsea, then make his way back from there to unfashionable Cray Hill.

“You won't be working tomorrow, will you?” Sophia asked Fleur “We can do something nice. What about some shopping?”

Fleur heard a telephone ring. “I said I'd see Jess at the office tomorrow morning. I'll be free after that.”

“It sounds like a wonderful job,” Sophia observed. “Have you found anything yet?”

“Ben's done something rather good,” Fleur said. “You explain, Ben.”

Ben did so. Valentine still did not appear. The telephone rang twice more. A kind of uneasiness developed as Ben went on waiting for Valentine to return, Sophia waited for both of them to take their leave and the far-off sound of ringing phones continued. Fleur felt tired. Watching Sophia closely, she thought she saw tension beneath her calm manner. There was something ragged and difficult about the situation, she thought, and even Sophia, with all her training, couldn't quite smooth it over.

Ben, busking, had outlined the plot of his script and run out of material. He said, “I really ought to go. Would you tell Valentine when he gets back?”

At that moment Valentine entered the room and said, “Something's come up, Ben. I'm frightfully sorry—”

“Don't worry,” Ben said. “I'll get a cab.”

Valentine left the room and, as Ben was saying goodbye, Henry Jones entered and said, “Good evening, Sophia. How are you?”

Sophia told him, “Now, Henry, don't stand on ceremony. Do what you want to do and disappear, straight into the study. Can I get anything brought to you?”

“Some coffee would be very nice, thank you.”

As soon as Fleur and Sophia were alone Sophia stood up and stretched. She rang the bell, saying, “My goodness. What a lot of coming and going.” The muted sound of the phone reached them again. Sophia ordered coffee to be taken to the study, then said to Fleur, “I think I'll go up, if you don't mind. It's been a long day.” In the doorway she turned and smiled. “Don't forget your breakfast date with Dickie. And remember – shopping in the afternoon.”

“I remember. Goodnight, Sophia,” said Fleur. Not long afterwards she went to bed herself.

In her large and impeccable room she had a shower and cleaned her teeth, then lay on her satin-covered bed, her mind drifting. Earlier she had rung Jess and left a message saying where she was. She had tried Dominic and Joe's flat, but no one had answered. Dominic's mobile phone was off. What were they doing now?

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