Hartley had sat in his office for a long time after Marj left all those weeks ago.
‘Don’t worry,’ she had told him. ‘I’m only here for a little chat, to clear up a few things.’
She looked too young to be Lucy’s mum, and so different from his own mother, who seemed to have had grey hair for as long as Hartley could remember.
His mother was a statuesque woman and attractive in her own way – slim, tall and always perfectly turned out. But Marj seemed from a different generation. Her skin looked so soft. She had the traces of laughter lines round her eyes and mouth, which hinted at her age, but still, she looked great. Hartley remembered the newspaper article he’d read just a few days ago – the one Bridget had shown him – about Lucy’s background. It painted her family as some kind of Jerry Springer Show fodder and Lucy as a manipulative fantasist who lied about her past. It was clearly nonsense. The woman in front of him was poised, articulate and full of grace.
She had Lucy’s colouring, with bright blue eyes and thick blonde hair, but was smaller, petite like Max.
‘I see.’ Hartley didn’t quite understand but the woman sitting opposite didn’t seem angry. On the contrary. She was smiling, trying to put him at his ease.
‘As I said, I’ve just come for a chat.’
‘A blether, as they say in Scotland?’ Hartley couldn’t believe he’d made a joke. It certainly betrayed how nervous he felt. Damn, he should have dressed more smartly. She must think him terribly casual in his chinos and checked shirt.
‘Exactly, a blether,’ Marj replied, repositioning herself on the leather chair and leaning forward slightly. ‘Hartley, Lucy has no idea I am here. It’s not like me to do anything like this. I don’t interfere.’
She paused, as if to make sure Hartley understood. He nodded, willing her to continue.
‘I’ve noticed that Lucy is very unhappy. I understand this has something to do with your split and something that happened in Scotland.’
Hartley shifted in his seat.
‘Of course, as Lucy’s mother, you would expect me to take her side in the matter.’ Again, Marj was smiling kindly and Hartley found himself reciprocating. ‘But the truth is that Lucy is the most loyal daughter a mother could hope to have. What you think she did, well, it’s beyond her.’
Hartley looked at the floor then back at Marj. He sensed he would add nothing by talking.
‘Now, I am not here to paint my daughter in a wonderful light so that you two get back together. I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear. Take away the cruel newspaper stories and the tag she seems now to have as some kind of predator, what really hurt is that you didn’t believe she was innocent. You didn’t trust her.’
Hartley felt his chest tighten.
‘As I say, I’m not here to suggest a reconciliation. I just want to clear my daughter’s name. She can cope with people turning against her because of something they read – it’s not pleasant but these people were never true friends. But not you. She expected more from you.’
Hartley looked out of the window. Hearing it put as simply as this was painful. He wasn’t hearing anything new. He’d thought the same things over and over in his head. And yet he hadn’t called Lucy. He should have spoken to her; it shouldn’t have come to this.
‘Thank you,’ Hartley said, speaking over the lump in his throat. He felt ashamed that this woman had had to come to him. She had no sinister agenda; she simply wanted to make him know how badly he had hurt her daughter.
Hartley stood up and took a deep breath. He walked around his chair and leaned on it.
‘I never fully believed she was behind it,’ he told Marj, a hopeful tone in his voice.
‘No, but you never fully believed she wasn’t.’
Hartley looked deflated. She was right. He came back to the chair and sat in it heavily.
‘Far be it from me to tell you what happened that night. But there’s something you should know.’
‘Yes?’
‘Max, my other daughter, saw how low Lucy was when she came back from Scotland. She put on her journalist hat – a cunning little thing, she can be – and found something out, about what really happened, involving a certain Lady friend, I believe.’
Hartley felt his blood run cold. Bridget.
But she’d been so nice about Lucy for weeks. She’d been so attentive and caring, a million miles from the Bridget he had remembered. His friends had warned him not to be taken in by her but he had told them that people change; everyone is allowed a second chance.
Why hadn’t he applied that logic to Lucy and given her the benefit of the doubt?
Jesus, please, no. Bridget couldn’t be behind this.
For weeks after they started spending time together, nothing had happened between him and Bridget. Hartley didn’t want her; he wanted Lucy. All those times he had picked up his phone and thought about calling her, before bottling it… Why hadn’t he grown a pair of balls?
And God, he’d had sex with Bridget the other night. The thought of her being behind the photographer in Scotland was almost too much to take.
Marj was talking but his head was so crammed with horror he was struggling to listen.
‘Max linked Bridget to the photographer in Scotland. Armed with the proof that Lucy had no part in what had happened, Max wanted to come to you, to make you see. Lucy told her to forget it. She made Max promise not to contact you. Why should she have to justify herself to you?’
Oh God, Hartley thought, what have I done?
‘I am so sorry,’ he said, looking Marj straight in the eye, his eyes filled with remorse. He hurt so badly he thought he might crumple there in front of her and wail for days. How bloody stupid he had been.
‘How… I mean, Bridget – she wasn’t even there.’ Hartley said the words as they came into his head.
‘That’s not my business. I came only to make you see that Lucy is the girl you got to know. I couldn’t stand for you not to know the truth.’
‘I should never have doubted her,’ he said quietly.
Marj felt sorry for Hartley. She wasn’t angry with him. Of course Marj wanted her girls to find someone who could take care of them, to protect them and love them. She couldn’t give a stuff for Hartley’s money or title. It would bring a certain comfort no doubt and that was a huge bonus, but what mattered was the man. Fergal had taught her that. She liked what she saw in Hartley. But there was no getting away from the fact he had not stood by Lucy.
‘From what I heard, you jumped to an obvious conclusion. We all make mistakes. Perhaps it’s a mistake me coming here. After all, I am doing this behind Lucy’s back. It’s not easy, you know, being a parent, loving your children so much you never want them to hurt. Of course they will – no one can control that. But it’s not fair that you think the worst of my daughter when she did nothing wrong.’
Hartley looked forlornly out of the window, at the cold, dark winter sky, and wondered how this could have happened. How had he managed to lose the woman who made him feel like he would burst with joy every time he thought of her?
Marj was speaking again, her voice still soft. ‘As for that other article – the one about our family. We have nothing to hide, Hartley. I fell pregnant when I was twenty to a man I loved. I discovered he was married. He wanted to leave his wife but I said I wouldn’t be the one to split a family. It was tough – the stigma of being a single mum three decades ago was huge. I fell in love with another man, Fergal, the best man I have ever met, and he is Max’s father. His own father abandoned him when he was young and that made him doubly determined to make sure he was always there for his girls – that’s how he sees them both. It turned out Lucy’s dad was a wealthy man and he offered to pay for her to go to boarding school. There you have it – the big mystery about Lucy’s accent is solved. Hardly qualifies for an episode of CSI, does it?’
Hartley didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Had it mattered to him when he saw the article? He remembered being hurt by it – assuming she had lied. But she had never misled him in any way.
Marj stood and picked up her handbag from the floor.
‘I must go,’ she said lightly. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming here.’
‘Oh God, not at all. I can’t thank you enough. Is there… I mean to say, do you think there’s anything I can do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Marj admitted. ‘That’s not my business either.’
Marj held out her hand and shook Hartley’s with real warmth. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
Reaching the door, she turned back suddenly. ‘Oh Hartley?’
‘Yes?’
‘Did you see the story about Lucy and Kirk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nonsense. Well, ninety per cent of it. Max found out that Kirk’s mum placed the story in the paper – doing her son’s PR, if you like, trying to get him away from the reputation he has with glamour girls. It was Kirk who chased Lucy and things went no further than a goodnight kiss. You know why?’
Hartley shook his head.
‘Because she couldn’t stop thinking about you.’
Marj was pleased to see a huge smile light up Hartley’s rosy face.