“This is monstrous behavior,” Miss Kendrick declared, her steely gray eyes fixed harshly on Kelly Durham, her slim, ringless fingers resting on the computer printouts in front of her. It was the end of the school day and almost everyone else had gone home—even the buses had left—but Miss Kendrick wasn’t allowing Kelly Durham or Paige Moore to go anywhere until she’d sorted this out. “I’m appalled that you could even think anything like this,” she continued, directing her wrath at Kelly, “never mind write it in a public forum. And please don’t tell me it wasn’t you.”
“It wasn’t, miss,” Kelly protested, her large oval face flushed with innocence. “Where’s my name? There’s nothing there to say—”
“It’s been traced back to you,” Miss Kendrick interrupted forcefully. “You wouldn’t be sitting here if it hadn’t, and you have to admit, Kelly, this isn’t the first time we’ve had this sort of trouble with you.”
“Because people keep hacking into my account,” Kelly cried. “It’s not my fault if they know how to do it and I don’t know how to stop them.”
Miss Kendrick’s eyes flitted to Paige.
“Frankly, miss,” Kelly continued, “anyone could have done this, so I don’t think you should pick on me.” She should have stopped there, but didn’t. “If I tell my granddad, he’ll be really upset, and that’s not a good way to treat someone who’s made so many donations to the school.”
Miss Kendrick’s eyes flashed. “Many of these remarks came from your school account,” she reminded Kelly, “and Mr. Thomas assures me there is no evidence of hacking.”
Kelly threw out her immaculately manicured hands. “So someone got my password! It’s happening all the time.”
Miss Kendrick’s expression showed how unimpressed she was.
Kelly’s face tightened. “I’m telling the truth,” she cried tearfully, “but I can see you’d rather believe her, because she’s your favorite and everyone knows it.”
Miss Kendrick still wasn’t regarding her kindly. “The comments about Paige’s father…”
“Had nothing to do with me. I don’t even know him. You need to ask the person who posted it.”
“Maybe you can tell me who it was.”
“I swear I would if I could, but I’ve got no idea.”
Miss Kendrick’s eyes moved to Paige.
Though Paige was in no doubt that Kelly was behind it, and that she could easily use all the other abuse she’d suffered at Kelly’s hands to back up her claim, she remained silent. It was bad enough that they were here at all without her doing anything to make it worse.
“I’m of two minds whether to take this to Mr. Charles,” Miss Kendrick stated.
“No, please,” Paige and Kelly said together.
Miss Kendrick regarded them worriedly.
Paige knew she should never have allowed Charlotte to talk to Miss Kendrick. She’d tried telling her a hundred times that it would only make things worse, but Charlotte had refused to listen, and now here they were with everything running out of control.
“I know you’ve got it in for me,” Kelly suddenly erupted. “You always have had, just because I don’t like your stupid lessons and can’t stand the way you—”
“Stop it, Kelly. Stop right now.”
“I will,” Kelly sobbed, “but my granddad—”
“You really don’t have to keep reminding me that he’s a generous benefactor,” Miss Kendrick interrupted. “I just need to know that you girls are friends before you leave here.”
Clenching her hands tightly, Paige said, “I probably jumped to conclusions, miss.”
Miss Kendrick was still staring at Kelly.
“Please, let’s just forget it,” Paige implored. “I didn’t want to come here….”
“You did the right thing.”
“No, honestly. I believe Kelly’s account was hacked, because it’s happened to mine too.”
Miss Kendrick’s eyes moved between them. “Kelly,” she said in the end, “do you understand that what’s written here isn’t only highly offensive, it could be very damaging?”
“Of course I do, miss, but I swear it wasn’t me.”
Miss Kendrick really didn’t look like she believed her, and for several heart-stopping moments Paige was sure Kelly was going to tell Miss Kendrick to eff off, or something equally terrible. In the end nothing at all was said.
Paige reached the door first but stood aside as Kelly trod on her foot to go through ahead of her. If Miss Kendrick saw, she didn’t comment, nor did Paige look back. She just wanted to get out of here and as far away from Kelly Durham as possible.
Charlotte was waiting at the end of the corridor, as were a couple of the Durmites. To Paige’s surprise Charlotte seemed to be talking to them, but broke away as soon as she spotted Paige coming.
“How did it go?” she whispered, linking her arm with Paige’s as they walked off toward the stairs.
“Oi, bitch,” Kelly Durham hissed after them.
Paige came to a stop, hunching her shoulders.
“Don’t think this is the end of it,” Kelly warned.
Paige turned round. “I told her I didn’t think you did it,” she reminded her.
“Yeah, right, and we all believe that, don’t we?”
“Why did you do it?” Charlotte demanded fiercely.
Kelly seemed about to retort when Bethany whispered something in her ear. Kelly’s eyebrows rose as she looked at Charlotte again. “You’ve got weird taste in friends,” she told her, and turning her back, she and the Durmites went off in the opposite direction.
“Why did you say you didn’t think she did it?” Charlotte asked crossly as they continued down the stairs.
“Because I could tell that just being there was making things worse,” Paige cried. “I told you it would.”
“You had to do something.”
“Well, I have now, and you heard what she just said—it’s still not over.”
“She only said it to save face. She won’t dare to do anything like it again. You wait and see.”
Not in any way convinced, Paige stopped at her locker and took out her bag and coat. “So what were you and the others talking about while we were in there?” she asked, trying to sound casual in spite of how worried she was feeling.
Charlotte merely shrugged. “Nothing, really,” she replied.
Sensing there was more, Paige insisted, “It must have been something.”
Charlotte turned to look at her. “Actually, I didn’t want to tell you this,” she said, making Paige’s heart turn over, “but you’ll find out soon enough anyway. Apparently they’re going to the party on Saturday. They were trying to find out if you were too.”
Paige’s eyes filled with misery as it spread all the way through her. “So everyone’s invited except me?”
“Not everyone, just them, and you wouldn’t want to go with them there anyway.”
It was true, she wouldn’t, but it was still a terrible feeling knowing she was excluded. “I might try and see if I can get Julie to meet up with me at the weekend,” she said, more to remind herself and Charlotte that she had another friend than because she actually meant it.
Though Charlotte didn’t seem to approve, all she said was, “If she will, at least you’ll know then who she really is.”
Paige was suddenly struggling with tears. “Actually, if she’s Owen or Kelly or Bethany, as you seem to think, she’ll be at the party with you,” she told Charlotte, walking away.
Charlotte hurried after her. “Don’t be upset,” she urged, trying to put an arm around her.
Pulling away, Paige said, “It’s all right for you—they never pick on you. You don’t know what it’s like always being made to feel small or horrible or like you’re nobody.”
“I know, but—”
“I don’t know how you can even speak to them when they’re being so mean to me.”
“All I said was that I’m going to the party on Saturday.”
“I bet it was more than that. I bet you know what they’re going to be wearing, and you told them you’re borrowing my blue dress, except no way would you tell them it’s mine.”
“Paige, that’s not—”
“Why don’t they ever have a go at you, Charlotte? You say whatever you like to them, but they never turn on you the way they turn on me, and I don’t even say anything.”
“Then maybe you should.”
“And what? Get myself beaten up for my trouble? They’re never going to leave me alone, and I can tell you’re going to be friends with them from now on, so you might as well go and be with them now.”
“Paige!” Charlotte called after her. “Paige, stop.”
Paige ran even faster, clutching her book bag to her chest, trying to catch her breath as she sobbed. She’d give anything in the world for her mum or dad to be waiting at the gates now, or her grandma, or Auntie Hanna, but the only person there was Lucy, Charlotte’s mum, who would just keep asking her about what was happening with her parents all the way home, and she really didn’t want to talk about them or anything else right now. So she just kept on running, along the street and down the side lane where no one could see her, and where she could hide until Charlotte and her mum had gone home.
The house was the tidiest Jenna had seen it in a long time, mostly thanks to her mother, who had spent the best part of the day clearing away toys, repacking DVDs, and turning up long-lost shoes, shirts, hairbands, and missing pieces of jigsaws. While all this was going on Jenna had been in town with Bena, picking up groceries, dry cleaning, and assorted presents for upcoming birthdays—and doing her best not to torment herself with what was really going on in her life. She’d also, because Bena had accompanied her to the door to make sure it happened, luxuriated in a neck and shoulder massage at a salon she hadn’t visited in too long, and ended up being talked into a manicure as well.
She’d known, of course, that Hanna was behind the double makeover of her and the house, not only to try to cheer her up a little but also to get them looking their best for Richard when he came at five.
No, I am not trying to do any matchmaking, Hanna had hotly responded to Jenna’s exasperated text. I just want you to feel good about yourself so you’re in the right mood to deal with whatever Richard has to say. Will call later when presentation is over. Remember you’re beautiful and I love you very much. Hxxx
Jenna wasn’t feeling very beautiful or loved as she pulled up outside the house and dashed inside to avoid the rain. In fact, now that she was home and the little perks of the day were over, she was starting to wish she’d gone to collect the children from school, as originally planned. If she had, she’d be too preoccupied now even to think of how she looked or felt. As it was, she was sinking into an awful place of loneliness as she pictured Jack scooping them up as they ran out of school before taking them off somewhere for tea.
“I’m not having you banning me from seeing them just because I’ve had to cry off a couple of times,” he’d informed Jenna tersely earlier in the day. “I’ll go this afternoon, it’ll be a nice surprise. And I’ll have them home by six.”
She hadn’t argued, mainly because it would mean a quiet house while Richard was there. Otherwise she’d almost certainly have put her foot down and told him that he didn’t get to pick and choose when it worked for him, as if she had no life, no commitments, nothing outside his and the children’s needs. Never mind that it might be true; she simply wasn’t prepared to have him bursting in and out of their schedules as though he were the only one who mattered.
“Waffle!” she called as she began unpacking the shopping. “Where are you, sweetie?”
Expecting to hear him thump down off someone’s bed, or trot in from one of the sofas, it took a moment for her to realize it hadn’t happened. Curious, she stopped what she was doing and went to call him again.
“He’s up here with me,” Paige shouted from her room.
Surprised that Paige was home, Jenna shouted back, “I thought you were having tea at Charlotte’s.”
Paige came to open her door. “I texted to tell you my plans had changed but obviously you didn’t bother to read it.”
Remembering a message had arrived while she was driving, Jenna said, “Is everything all right with you and Charlotte?”
Paige gave a surly sort of shrug.
Sighing, Jenna caught Waffle by the collar as he bounded down the stairs to greet her. “What did you fall out about?”
“I never said we fell out,” Paige snapped. “Oh, and by the way, someone’s been in my room tidying up. I’ve told you a thousand times…”
“Grandma can’t help herself, you know that, and she’s not the type to pry, so don’t worry—your secrets are safe.”
“Who says I’ve got secrets?”
Jenna merely looked at her.
“What?”
“I wish I knew,” Jenna sighed. “I’m expecting a visitor at five. We’ll go over to the office, so—”
“Who is it?”
“Nobody you know.”
“So why can’t you tell me who it is?”
Biting back a sharp retort, Jenna said, “If you must know, he’s a lawyer.”
As Paige’s eyes widened, Jenna felt her panicked suspicion. “So you’re getting a divorce?”
“No, that’s not what it’s about.”
“So what is it about?”
“Some things to do with the company.”
“Does that mean Dad’s coming?”
“No. He’s taking Josh and the twins out for tea.”
“So you’re letting him see them again.”
“I never really stopped it. Are you going out later?”
“Like where?”
“Like anywhere.”
“What difference does it make?”
Reminding herself that these conversations never led anywhere useful, Jenna simply shook her head and turned back to the kitchen.
A few minutes later Paige was standing in the doorway.
“If you’re here to try and pick an argument…,” Jenna said.
“I’m not. I was just thinking…Is Dad coming in when he brings the others home?”
“I don’t know. Why? Do you want to see him?”
“Not really.”
“So why are you asking?”
Paige shrugged, watching as Jenna put things away in cupboards. “Do you reckon,” she said eventually, “you two will ever get back together?”
Jenna’s heart thumped. “You probably won’t want to hear this,” she replied, not wanting to hear it herself, “but I really don’t think it’s what Dad wants.”
“Have you asked him?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“I don’t see why not. If he knows you want him…”
“He knows. He’s always known, but it didn’t stop him getting involved with Martha.” Turning to her daughter curiously, she said, “Are you having some boyfriend issues? Is that what this is really about?”
Paige drew back. “No! What makes you say that?”
“I just wondered. You know, if there is anything, I’m always here.”
“Like when you’re not searching for nits, or cooking someone’s tea, or brushing their hair, or looking for their shoes, or giving them a bath, or rowing with Dad…”
“What’s this about?” Jenna demanded. “Are you saying I’m neglecting you?”
“I’m just saying, you’re always busy, so even if I wanted to talk, which I don’t—”
“I think you do.”
Paige’s eyes flashed. “OK. So when are we supposed to be having our next special time?” she challenged. “I don’t expect you’ve even thought about that, have you?”
Jenna sighed. “The honest answer is no, I haven’t, but not because I don’t want it. It’s just with everything else that’s happening…We’ll work something out, I promise, and you should ask Dad when you’re next having special time with him.”
“I know when that’s meant to be, but he’s bound to have forgotten.”
“I’m sure he hasn’t.”
“Even if he hasn’t, I’m not going. Anyway, he’ll just let me down the way he has Josh this weekend.”
“Which reminds me, we should do something to try and make up for it. In fact, why don’t you give Flora some special time—you know how much she’d love that—and I’ll do something with Josh and Wills?”
“Great. Just what I want, to spend my Saturday babysitting a five-year-old while everyone else is at the match or going to a party.”
“If you have a party to go to…”
“I don’t, so it’s cool. I’ll do something with Flora. Happy now?”
Jenna put a hand to her head. “Paige, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I get how much I matter round here.”
“Stop that right now,” Jenna snapped. “Don’t you think this is hard enough without you constantly getting at me? Why don’t you try to be helpful, or sympathetic, or a grown-up for once in your life?”
“Because I’m not a bloody grown-up,” Paige shouted back. “I’m fifteen, and you’re expecting me to behave like I’m thirty. And you’re not the only one he’s gone off and left. He left us too, but no one cares about that.”
“Everyone cares about it, including him,” Jenna cried, “but right now there’s nothing I can do to change it. You need to speak to him. Ask him to explain—” She broke off at the sound of the doorbell. “That’ll be the lawyer,” she said tiredly. “We’ll continue this later.”
Without answering, Paige stood sulkily aside so Jenna could go to the front door.
“Richard,” she said warmly, inviting him in from the porch. “Did you get my message? I could have come to you.”
“It’s no problem,” he assured her, ruffling the fur of an enthusiastic Waffle. “I was happy to get away from the office. And who are you?” he asked the dog.
“This is Waffle,” Jenna said with a smile. “As you can see, he doesn’t like to be ignored.”
“Which makes him just like my own retriever,” he chuckled, “and if I had my walking coat on, I could probably produce a treat.”
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t go short,” Jenna assured him. “Please, come in. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”
“Only if you’re having something,” he responded, breaking into a smile as he spotted Paige.
“This is my elder daughter, Paige,” Jenna told him. “Paige, this is—”
“Richard,” he interrupted, holding out a hand to shake. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“And to meet you,” she replied politely. “Mum says you’re a lawyer.”
His eyes turned playfully wary. “I hope that doesn’t paint me in a bad light.”
She almost smiled. “I suppose that depends whose side you’re on.”
He laughed. “Well, today it’s definitely yours. Am I allowed to ask what school you go to?”
“The Landings.”
He seemed pleased. “I have a son who goes there,” he said. “Perhaps you know him.”
To Jenna’s surprise Paige’s face flushed crimson, though it was doubtful Richard noticed, as his phone rang at that moment.
“I’m sorry, will you excuse me?” he said. “This is my other son, who’s ringing to let me know how he got on in an exam today. It won’t take a moment.”
As he turned away to take the call, Jenna said to Paige, “Are you all right?”
Still flushed, Paige muttered, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be? And you don’t have to go over to the office on my account. I’m going back upstairs.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“I had one when I came in. Oh, by the way, I’ve got a new art project. We’re supposed to make a Venetian-style mask.”
Jenna regarded her steadily. “Are you going to ask Dad to help you?”
Paige shook her head as she glanced at Richard. “I thought you might, if you can find the time.”
Though Jenna was pleased to be asked, she couldn’t help the wrenching sadness inside. Jack had always helped with the art projects. “We’ll make a start over the weekend,” she promised as Richard finished his call.
Saying no more, Paige took herself back to her room.
A while later Jenna and Richard were seated either end of the kitchen sofa, with two mugs of tea and a detailed copy of the auditor’s report between them.
“Basically, what it’s telling us,” Richard was saying, “is that the sums obtained from your contributors remain the biggest and most immediate problem. The good part of that is there were no hidden issues waiting to bite us. The not-so-good part is that the actual amount is a little more than initially thought, but luckily not significantly so. I know your husband claims that various marketing packages were being offered in return for the payments, but there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of these packages actually existing. Certainly there are enquiries, proposals, and estimates that would suggest some efforts have been made in this direction, but as far as Sean could ascertain, no contracts have been signed with a supplier, so there is no product, as such, for your company to provide in return for the writers’ investments.”
Jenna’s throat was dry; she felt overwhelmed by disappointment and humiliation. “So he really has cheated them,” she said quietly.
Richard’s eyes were gentle. “I’m afraid that is how it’s looking,” he agreed.
She tried to swallow. “So what happens next?”
He gave it a moment, apparently waiting until he was sure of her complete attention. “You have a couple of options,” he replied in a tone that held no hint of foreboding. “You can report it to the police, which is actually what should happen now that you know a crime has been committed, unless you want to find yourself facing a charge of conspiring to pervert the cause of justice, and I’m sure you don’t.”
Jenna felt the blood chilling in her veins. “So I will be held accountable?” she said.
“It’s certainly possible, unless we can prove that you knew nothing about it.”
“I didn’t,” she assured him. “I know that sounds unlikely, but I swear I had absolutely no idea.”
“I’m not doubting you, but if this does go any further, there’s every chance the Crown Prosecution Service will hold you and your husband jointly responsible. Unless, of course, your husband is prepared to admit that he went behind your back to obtain the money. Do you think he would?”
Jenna’s sigh caught in her heart. “The honest answer is that I don’t know,” she replied. “Until all this happened—” She cut herself off, not wanting to get into some excruciating self-pitying diatribe about how he wasn’t the man she’d married and how betrayed she was feeling. “My biggest fear,” she said, “is that he’s trying to get me sent to prison so he’ll get custody of the children.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Has he said as much?”
Jenna shook her head. “No, but if he could land it all on me—”
“Let me stop you there. He really won’t be able to do that. There is far too much incriminating evidence in his own files and emails for him to escape prosecution. But before we go any further down that road, let’s take a look at a second option.”
Relieved to know there was one, though still anxious over what it might be, she waited for him to continue.
“We can be fairly certain,” he began, “that none of your contributors has gone to the police themselves yet. If they had, someone from the Fraud Squad would already have been in touch. I take it no one has?”
She shook her head. “Unless they’ve spoken to Jack and he hasn’t told me.”
“I think that’s unlikely, because if there had been contact they’d have taken your computers by now. So for the moment it would appear that the writers are still prepared to believe that the marketing strategies they’ve been promised will go into action as soon as the site goes live. However, as we know from recent emails, some are already beginning to harbor suspicions, and the longer the site launch is delayed the greater the probability becomes that someone will contact the police. So what I’m proposing, or asking, actually, is how possible would it be to repay the money, preferably within the next couple of weeks?”
Jenna’s insides jarred as her hopes fell into despair. “Not possible at all,” she admitted. “I have just over fifteen thousand pounds in my personal account, which doesn’t cover it, and anyway I’m going to need it for the children and me to live on until I can find some sort of job.”
“And what about your husband? Could he find the money?”
A fleeting image of Jack’s wealthy girlfriend flashed in her mind, but she wasn’t going to bring her up now, when Richard was watching her so closely. How pathetic he must be finding her, how stupid and naive to have got herself into this position. Not that it should matter what he thought, but for some reason it seemed to. “He’s claiming not to have any,” she replied. “He says everything he transferred from the company has gone, spent by me. On the family, of course, not me personally.”
Nodding his understanding, he said, “If necessary we’ll ask him to provide proof of his finances, but first I think we need to establish if there is a way to avoid a prosecution by refunding the money. Do you have a mortgage on this house?”
She shook her head. “We bought it outright from…” Her eyes went to his. “I don’t think we do,” she corrected, “but for all I know he might have taken one out without me knowing.” Please God, don’t let that be the case. If they owed money on the house on top of everything else, they were never going to survive this. They’d lose their home and their liberty, the children would be taken into care…
As though sensing her rising panic, he said quite firmly, “It’s highly unlikely he’d have been able to obtain a mortgage without your knowledge.”
“But not impossible?”
Instead of answering, he said, “We need to take one step at a time. First we must fully ascertain what chance there is of satisfying the contributors.”
“But even if we could do that, how can we be sure it would stop them going to the police? I’m thinking of how crushed their hopes are going to be, and how angry, or vengeful, that might make some of them.”
“It’s true, you might well have to contend with some mighty Welsh wrath, but if we can show that they’ve been completely reimbursed, with an accompanying letter of profound and sincere apology, I doubt the CPS will want to use up valuable resources to take it any further.”
“But first we have to find a way of repaying it.”
Since it wasn’t a question, he didn’t answer, but simply sat quietly watching her with an expression she found hard to read, although nothing in his manner suggested he was thinking the worst of her or considering what he himself could suggest.
“If there isn’t already a mortgage on the house,” she said, “then that would be one way of raising…Except neither of us has an income, so no one’s going to lend us any money.”
Acknowledging that with a nod, he said, “Is there a relative who might be willing to help out?”
She felt her hands clenching together as she thought of her mother, but there was no way in the world she could turn to her. She’d done so much for them already, and it wasn’t even as if she had very much. Hanna did, of course, but she was afraid Hanna might rather see Jack in prison than offer a single cent to save his skin. Besides, she and Kay were already covering the cost of the lawyer, and Jenna still had no idea how she was going to pay them back for that. Once her fifteen thousand pounds ran out, which would be in a matter of months, perhaps a year if she was careful, she was too afraid even to think of what she and the children were going to do—or where Jack might be by then.
“My husband has a brother,” she said hoarsely. “Maybe he could speak to him.” She looked at Richard again and this time felt only relief that he was there, quietly supporting, advising, and not appearing in any way overly anxious. “I’m sure you must have a very dim view of my husband by now,” she commented.
Though he didn’t deny it, what he said was, “It’s very easy to make mistakes, but not always so easy to put them right.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “My sister thinks his extreme behavior, as she puts it, is evidence of some sort of personality disorder.”
His eyebrows rose. “And what do you think?”
With a certain wryness she replied, “I’ve seen enough friends go through this kind of breakup to know that saying your husband’s off his head or experiencing some kind of midlife crisis is pretty standard. I suppose it provides something to hold on to, a kind of hope that allows you to think he’ll get over it or seek some sort of help that’ll guide him back to the fold. The only trouble is that if a man actually leaves his wife for another woman, he almost never comes back.”
Realizing how close she suddenly was to tears, she quickly got up to spare them both the embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at the clock, “I didn’t realize how late it was. He should be here any minute with the children.”
“In which case,” he said, getting to his feet, “I should be going.”
She was glad he didn’t add that Jack finding him here would be awkward all round. They both knew that, anyway.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, walking him to the door. “You’ve made the situation very clear, so all I have to decide now is what I’m going to do next.”
“Call me when you’re ready,” he replied, “but you probably shouldn’t leave it too long.”
“Who was that I just saw driving out of here?” Jack asked as he came in the door a few minutes later.
Jenna didn’t look up from washing Wills’s face. “His name’s Richard Pryce,” she replied evenly. “You received a letter from him.”
“You mean the lawyer you…So what was he doing here?”
“Outlining my options. Wills, hold still.”
“But you’re hurting me.”
“Well, if you will get ink all over you…”
“Josh did it, not me.”
“Dad! Dad!” Flora cried, bursting into the kitchen. “We’ve got to make Mother’s Day cards for Mummy at school and Miss Saunders said we need to take in some glue and sparkles.”
“You’re not supposed to ask him in front of Mummy,” Wills exclaimed. “You’ve spoiled the surprise now.”
Flora’s eyes rounded with concern.
Jenna smiled. “Don’t worry, I knew it was coming up,” she told her, “and I’m sure Grandma will take you to buy everything you need.”
“It’s OK, I’ll take them,” Jack interjected brusquely.
Not arguing, Jenna reached for a towel and treated Wills to a giant smackeroo as she dried him.
“You’re so sloppy,” Wills complained. “Girls are really sloppy, aren’t they, Dad?”
Grabbing Flora, Jack said, “Yes, but we wouldn’t have them any other way, would we?”
“Stop, stop!” Flora protested. “You’re scratching me. Daddy! You need a shave.”
Setting her down, he watched her and Wills rush off to their video games, or TV programs, or whatever they had planned before bathtime. Then, closing the door, he turned back to Jenna.
Before he could say anything, she said, “Paige has a new art project. I think you should offer to help with it.”
“I would if I thought she’d let me.”
“You can at least try asking.”
“Is she here?”
“In her room, as usual.”
“Then I’ll go up when we’ve finished here.”
Jenna was picking up discarded boots, bags, and coats. She had no desire to discuss anything with him right now, but as Richard had reminded her when he was leaving, time wasn’t on their side. So, coming straight to the point, she said, “The only way we’re going to avoid prosecution is if we repay every last penny that you charged for services you had no intention of providing.”
His face immediately darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I told you there are marketing strategies—”
“That don’t actually exist. The auditor’s been through your computer and found no evidence of a package of any sort that you could provide in return for the writers’ investments. That’s fraud, Jack, plain and simple.”
“Just because the information isn’t on my computer doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Then where is it?”
“On the computers in Martha’s office. Her team have been drawing up—”
“I’m not listening to this. You’ve played me for a fool for far too long, and it’s going to stop. If those packages existed, if they were legitimate or even viable, they would have been sent to the writers by now.”
“And how do you know they haven’t?”
“Because you’re being bombarded with emails asking when they can see a finalized version of the bullshit you sent them in the first place. What the hell were you thinking? ‘National media coverage, newspaper serialization, worldwide exposure…’ I can only wonder that they were stupid enough to believe it, but then again, I of all people know how convincing you can be. Well, you’re going to have to be pretty convincing now if you don’t want to end up in court.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“No, it won’t, as long as we pay the money back. I don’t have the funds to cover it, and you’re saying you don’t either, so you’ll have to borrow it. Please tell me you haven’t already mortgaged the house.”
“I’m not dignifying that with an answer.”
Her blood ran cold. “Jack, have you…?”
“No! I have not mortgaged the house.”
Needing to believe him, at least for now, she said, “Then there’s a chance you could—”
“I’ve just told you, the marketing plans are in place.”
“Then show me. Get them up on the computer right now and let me see what you’re offering for an investment of up to seven thousand pounds that’s ready to go live on the website.”
“They’re still finalizing things.”
“And you’re still stalling. Face it, Jack, you’ve created a situation you don’t know how to get out of, so I’m trying to do it for you, but you have to help me. We need close to thirty thousand pounds within the next couple of weeks or the police are going to be knocking at this door. For all I know they’ll end up coming anyway, but Richard, the lawyer, is doing his best to prevent that from happening.”
“By getting us to pay back money we don’t have. Great plan! And there’s no point talking about a mortgage, because I’ve already tried and got turned down.”
Torn between relief and outrage that he’d gone behind her back, she said, “Then we—you—have to find another way to come up with it.”
He glared at her furiously.
“You’re the one who got us into this,” she pointed out.
“Maybe your mother would like—”
“Stop right there,” she seethed. “Hell will freeze over before you’ll get me to ask for her help. This is your problem, Jack. You created it, and it’s up to you to get yourself out of it. Maybe you can talk to your brother, or perhaps your girlfriend won’t see thirty grand as too high a price to pay for keeping her lover in her bed.”
Clearly bursting with rage, he snatched his keys from the worktop and leaned in toward her menacingly. “I can see there’s no reasoning with you. You’ve got all this crap stuck in your head.”
“Prove to me it’s crap and we might get somewhere.”
He turned away. “You just keep telling yourself your little stories, and with any luck you might find one good enough to send in to your publisher.”
Grabbing the nearest thing to hand, she flung it at him, and watched a blackcurrant juice carton explode all over his face. “I’ll tell the children you had urgent business,” she spat. “Now get the hell out of here before I end up doing something I actually regret.”