Marcus spent Friday afternoon turning his own flat upside down. He’d looked at the area of wall in the sitting room where he’d remembered the ‘builder’ packing up his tools on Sunday evening, and it was indeed right next to his landline cable.
Eventually, he too found a small, black button-shaped device, hidden in the underside lip of the coffee table. He removed it carefully, marvelling at the minuscule electronics within.
Joanna arrived after work and Marcus put his finger to his lips and showed her a jar of instant coffee, then gingerly picked out the bug he’d buried in the dark brown granules.
‘Now, darling, why don’t you take a shower before we go out to dinner?’ he said loudly. ‘And when we get back, I’m going to paint you from head to toe in chocolate sauce and lick it off.’
She grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper from her rucksack and wrote in bold letters, Can’t wait. Then with a raise of an eyebrow, she placed the pen and the note on the side table in full view of Marcus, before heading to the bathroom.
The following morning, after a quick coffee and toast that Marcus had brought on a tray into bed, they dressed and walked along the road to catch a bus to Welbeck Street. Having found seats, Marcus turned to her with a serious expression.
‘I know we’ve had some laughs with this bugging business, but it makes me feel sick that they’ve been listening to every word we’ve said.’
‘I know. Surely it’s illegal to tap phone lines and place bugs? Could we call the authorities and tell them?’
‘Hardly! The “authorities” are those that placed the equipment there in the first place.’
‘Oh Marcus, I should never have dragged you into this. It’s all my fault.’
‘No it isn’t, darling.’ Marcus felt a pang of guilt surge through him. He looked down at Joanna’s head resting against his shoulder and wondered whether he should just tell her about his meeting with Ian, and the money he’d been given.
No. He’d left it too late already. She’d only be furious with him – might end the relationship . . .
And Marcus simply couldn’t bear the thought of that.
‘Hi, you two, come in.’ Zoe led them inside the house. ‘Shall we go straight off? I’m tingling to get to the shops.’
‘Absolutely,’ Joanna replied as Zoe ushered them both through to the kitchen.
‘Jamie is upstairs in his room, playing on his computer. Should keep him happy for ages. I’ll just nip upstairs to say goodbye and get my coat, then we’ll be off.’ As Marcus lit up a cigarette, Zoe frowned. ‘And please don’t smoke around Jamie.’
‘Christ! I’m doing you the favour,’ Marcus said tetchily. ‘Don’t be too long, Jo. I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday than babysitting my nephew.’ He winked at her.
‘And I can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday than shopping!’ Joanna gave Marcus an affectionate kiss.
‘You owe me for this.’
‘Zoe, I . . .’
Joanna heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned round and saw Simon staring at her from the kitchen door, the shock in his eyes mirroring her own.
Zoe stood behind him in her coat.
‘Did I mention Simon was coming to stay, Marcus?’
‘Simon who?’ Marcus asked.
‘Warburton. He’s a distant cousin of ours from Auckland in New Zealand, on Grandmother Grace’s side. He wrote and said he was coming to the UK and could he stay with us for a while. So,’ said Zoe, ‘here he is.’
Marcus frowned. ‘I didn’t know we had any distant cousins.’
‘Nor did I until James’s memorial service,’ Zoe improvised hastily.
Joanna was speechless as she watched Marcus shake hands with Simon.
‘Good to meet you, Simon. So, we’re distantly related?’
‘Yes, it seems that way.’ Simon had recovered his cool.
‘Here for long?’
‘A while, yes.’
‘Good. Well, we must meet up for a boys’ night out at some point. I’ll show you the best places in town.’
‘I look forward to it.’
‘Come on then, Jo, let’s hit the road. Jo?’ Zoe said.
Joanna was still staring at Simon. Zoe watched her nervously.
‘Yes, I’m coming. Right. Bye, Simon. Bye, Marcus.’ Joanna turned and followed Zoe out of the front door.
Simon shrugged on the jacket he’d been holding. ‘I’m off too. I thought I might take in some sights. Good to meet you, Marcus.’
Zoe and Joanna spent a delightful morning on the King’s Road, then caught a bus to Knightsbridge. They wandered round Harvey Nichols until their feet ached, then took refuge in the café on the top floor.
‘It’s on me, by the way,’ said Zoe, as she grabbed a menu from the bar. ‘Any woman who is prepared to take on my brother deserves at least one free lunch!’
‘Thanks, I think,’ Joanna said with a grin, as Zoe ordered two glasses of champagne.
‘You know, I think you’re really good for Marcus. He needs a steadying influence and he’s really fallen for you. If he asks you to marry him, please say yes, and then we can do this kind of thing regularly.’
Joanna was touched by how eager Zoe was to make friends, and once again felt horribly guilty for any duplicitous thoughts she’d had of shopping Zoe to her newspaper. When their lunch arrived, Joanna tucked into her delicious open-faced sandwich, topped with Parma ham and peppery rocket. She noticed that Zoe only picked at hers.
‘Wasn’t it tragic about William Fielding?’ Joanna mentioned as she sipped her champagne.
‘Dreadful. I went to visit him in hospital, you know, the day before he died.’
‘Yes, Marcus mentioned it.’
‘He was in a terrible state. It really upset me, especially as we’d had that chat about my grandfather only a few days before. He gave me a beautiful signet ring for safe keeping. Here, I’ll show you.’ Zoe fumbled in the zip pocket of her handbag, produced the ring and handed it to Joanna.
‘Wow, it’s so heavy.’ Joanna turned the ring round in the palm of her hand and looked at the insignia. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Take it to his funeral next week and see if any of William’s relatives turn up, I suppose.’ Zoe tucked the ring safely back in her handbag.
‘What about your film? Are they continuing with it?’
‘They reckon they’ve got just about enough in the can to work around William’s . . . absence. I’m heading back to Norfolk on Wednesday.’
‘And how long is your, er, friend Simon staying for?’ Joanna asked lightly.
‘I’m not sure. He’s in London for a while and I’ve said he can stay as long as he wants. The house is so big, there’s ample room for the two of us.’
‘Right.’ Joanna didn’t know what else to say.
‘I watched your face when you saw him at the house. You almost looked as though you recognised him. Do you know him?’
‘I . . .’ Joanna blushed, unable to lie. ‘Yes.’
Zoe visibly crumpled. ‘I knew you did. Where from?’
‘I’ve known Simon for most of my life. We virtually grew up together in Yorkshire. Not Auckland, I might add!’
‘Then I suppose you know that he isn’t in any way related to me?’ Zoe said slowly.
‘Yes. Or if he is, he’s never mentioned it.’
Zoe looked at Joanna uncertainly. ‘Are you aware of what he does for a living?’
‘He’s always said he was a pen-pusher for the civil service, which I suppose I never quite believed. He got a first from Cambridge and is very, very bright. Really, Zoe, you don’t have to explain. It’s obvious you have your reasons for making up Simon’s past for me and Marcus. I suppose it was just sod’s law that I happened to know him. I won’t say anything, I promise.’
‘Oh Joanna –’ Zoe fiddled with her napkin – ‘I’m so scared to trust anyone at the moment. And you less than most, being a journalist. Sorry,’ she added quickly. ‘Yet I feel I want to tell you. If I don’t talk to someone about all this, I think I shall go mad.’
‘If it’s any help, I think I know,’ Joanna said quietly.
‘You do? How? Nobody knows.’ Zoe looked horrified. ‘Has it leaked to the press already?’
‘No, don’t worry,’ Joanna was quick to reassure her. ‘Again, it was pure coincidence. I saw a . . . a man go into your house on Thursday evening.’
‘How come? Were you spying on me?’
‘No.’ Joanna shook her head firmly. ‘I went to the dentist in Harley Street, felt faint afterwards and found myself in Welbeck Street while I was looking for a taxi. I was just about to knock and ask for a cup of sugary tea and a sit-down, when your front door opened.’
Zoe frowned. ‘Please don’t lie to me, Joanna, I couldn’t take it. Are you sure someone at your newspaper hadn’t tipped you off?’
‘No! If there was a tip-off, they wouldn’t give it to a junior reporter on Pets and Gardens like me.’
‘True. Oh Christ, Jo.’ Zoe looked straight at her. ‘Did you see who the man was?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I suppose you can guess why Simon is living in my house?’
‘Some kind of protection, I presume?’
‘Yes. They – he – insisted on it.’
‘Well, you couldn’t ask for anyone better to look after you. Simon is quite the nicest man I know.’
A glimmer of a smile crossed Zoe’s face. ‘Like that, is it? Should I tell Marcus he has a rival?’
‘God, no. We’re more like brother and sister. We really are just good friends.’
‘Talking of Marcus, you haven’t said anything to him about what you saw on Thursday night, have you?’ Zoe asked anxiously.
‘No. I’m actually very good at keeping secrets. Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it, but are the two of you . . . I mean, is it serious?’
Zoe’s blue eyes filled with tears. ‘Very. Unfortunately.’
‘Why “unfortunately”?’
‘Because I want Art to be an accountant in Guildford – a married man even – but not . . . well, who he is.’
‘I understand completely, but you can’t help who you fall in love with, Zoe.’
‘No, but can you imagine how it’ll affect Jamie if the story gets out? I’m terrified.’
‘Yes. I was only thinking the other night that it will leak at some point, especially if you’re both serious about each other.’
‘I can hardly bear to think about it. The worst thing is, I just can’t seem to stop myself, however much I know I should for Jamie’s sake. Art and I . . . well, it’s always been this way.’
‘You’ve known each other for a long time?’
‘Yes. Years. I swear, Joanna, if I ever read about this conversation in your newspaper, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions,’ Zoe said fiercely.
‘Zoe, I admit I would love to be the person to hand this scoop to my editor, but I’m a Yorkshire girl, and up there a person’s word is her bond. I won’t, okay?’
‘Okay. God, I need another drink.’ Zoe signalled to the waiter and asked for two more glasses of champagne. ‘Well, as you seem to know most of it now anyway, and as I’m desperate to talk to someone, I might as well tell you the whole story . . .’
From his vantage point at a table behind a convenient pillar, Simon saw the two women were deep in conversation. He took the opportunity to go to the men’s room and, closing the toilet door, he dialled a number on his mobile.
‘It’s Warburton, sir.’
‘Yes.’
‘A problem this morning. I’m afraid Haslam arrived unexpectedly at Miss Harrison’s house. Obviously, she recognised me. If she questions me, what do I tell her?’
‘That you are working for the Royalty Protection Branch. Which, to all intents and purposes, you are. Did you place the bugs on arrival?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Any other news?’
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘All right, Warburton. Good luck.’
Marcus was watching a Wales versus Ireland rugby match on the television and working his way through Zoe’s supply of beer. It was a quarter past four and still the girls were not back. Thankfully, Jamie was ensconced in his room, playing some complicated computer game. Marcus had gone in briefly, but after Jamie had begun to explain about ‘magic coins’ he’d ducked out again. It wasn’t like he’d never made an effort over the years, he thought to himself. Chocolates, zoo trips . . . nothing seemed to have made an impression on Jamie, and eventually Marcus had given up. It was as if all his nephew’s love had been focused on Great-James, and his mother, and there wasn’t any room for him.
‘Hi, Uncle Marcus.’ Jamie poked his head around the door. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Of course. It’s your house.’ Marcus managed a smile.
Jamie walked into the room, and stood with his hands in his pockets facing the television. ‘Who’s winning?’
‘Ireland. Wales are getting hammered.’
‘Great-James once told me a story about Ireland.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes. He said he’d been to stay there once, in a place by the sea.’
‘Yeah, well, a lot of Ireland’s by the sea.’
Jamie went to the window and tweaked the net curtains to see if there was any sign of his mother returning. ‘He told me where he went, showed me on the big atlas. It was a huge house, he said, surrounded by water, like it was sitting in the middle of the sea. And then he told me a story about how a young man fell in love with a beautiful Irish girl. I remember the story had a sad ending. I said to Great-James it sounded as if it would make a good film.’
Marcus’s ears pricked up. He watched Jamie, who was still looking out of the window. ‘When did he tell you this?’
‘Just before he died.’
Marcus stood up and went to the bookcase. His eyes ran along the titles until he found the old atlas. Turning the pages to Ireland, he laid the book on the coffee table. He beckoned Jamie to him.
‘Where did Great-James say this place was?’
Jamie’s finger went immediately to the bottom of the map and pinpointed a location halfway along the southern Atlantic coast. ‘There. The house is in the bay. He said I would like it, that it was an enchanted place.’
‘Mmm.’ Marcus closed the atlas and looked at Jamie. ‘Want something to eat?’
‘No, Mumma said she’d cook me something when she got back. She’s been a long time.’
‘Yes, hasn’t she? Women, eh?’ Marcus rolled his eyes conspiratorially.
‘Mumma said the lady she’s gone with is your girlfriend.’
‘She is.’
‘Will you marry her?’
‘Maybe I will,’ Marcus smiled. ‘I really like her.’
‘Then I’ll have an aunt. That’ll be fun. Well, I’ll go back to my room now.’
‘Sure.’
When Jamie had gone, Marcus took out a piece of paper and wrote down the name of the town Jamie had pointed to.
Zoe and Joanna rolled in at half past five with numerous shopping bags.
‘Had a good couple of hours, ladies?’ Marcus asked, irony soaking his voice, as he met them in the hallway.
‘Great, thanks,’ said Zoe.
‘So great we thought we’d do it again tomorrow. We didn’t quite finish everything we wanted to do,’ Joanna said with a grin.
‘It’s Sunday tomorrow, Jo!’ Marcus looked aghast.
‘Yes, and these days all the shops are open, sweetheart.’
‘We’re joking, brother dear,’ said Zoe. ‘Besides, I’ll have to give my credit card a two-week rest at a health spa after the abuse it’s taken today.’
The door opened again and there was Simon. ‘Hi, chaps.’
‘Hello. See the sights?’ asked Marcus.
‘Yes.’
‘Which sights were those, Simon?’ Joanna could not resist.
‘Oh, you know, the Tower, St Paul’s, Trafalgar Square.’ Simon looked squarely back at her. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He nodded at them, then went up the stairs.
‘Where’s Jamie?’ asked Zoe.
‘In his room.’
‘Marcus, you’ve not let him sit on that computer all day, have you?’ Zoe frowned.
‘Sorry. I did my best, but he’s not exactly social, is he? Come on, Jo, don’t bother taking your coat off. Let’s scoot.’
Zoe kissed Joanna, then Marcus. ‘See you guys soon. And thanks for a fun day, Jo.’
‘Not at all. I’ll ring you during the week,’ she replied.
They exchanged a small, conspiratorial smile as Marcus ushered Joanna out of the door.
Zoe went upstairs to see Jamie and discover whether supper should be sausages and mash or cottage pie. Jamie went for the former and followed his mother downstairs to chat to her while she cooked.
‘You know, I don’t think Uncle Marcus likes me all that much,’ he said.
‘Jamie, of course he does! He’s just not used to children, that’s all. Did he say anything to you today when he was here, darling?’
‘No, nothing. He just drank a lot of beer. Maybe his new girlfriend will make him feel better. He said he might like to marry her.’
‘Really? That would be wonderful. Jo is lovely.’
‘Have you got a boyfriend, Mumma?’
‘I . . . there’s a man I really like, yes.’
‘Is it Simon?’
‘Lord, no!’
‘I like Simon. He seems nice. He came and played on my computer game with me for a bit last night. Is he coming down for supper?’
‘Actually, I thought you and I could have supper together and a nice chat.’
‘It’s a bit awful not to ask him, isn’t it? I mean, he is our guest.’
‘Go on then,’ Zoe said, weakening, ‘see if he wants to join us.’
Five minutes later, Simon, looking vaguely embarrassed, walked into the kitchen.
‘Are you sure it’s okay, Zoe? I can easily get a pizza.’
‘My son insists on your presence,’ said Zoe with a smile, ‘so sit yourself down.’
Throughout supper, she did her best to keep a straight face as Simon regaled Jamie with stories of the New Zealand sheep farm he lived on back home.
‘Mumma, one day, can we go and visit Simon in Auckland? It sounds cool!’
‘I should think so, yes.’
‘Simon, do you want to come and see the new computer game Mumma got me today? It’s fantastic, but much better when there’s someone else to play against.’
‘Jamie, poor Simon,’ Zoe sighed.
‘It’s fine. I’d love to play,’ Simon offered.
‘Come on then.’ Jamie stood up and indicated that Simon should do the same. With a shrug and a smile at Zoe, Simon followed Jamie out of the kitchen and upstairs.
An hour later, she went upstairs to the sound of excited screams emanating from both her son and Simon.
‘You’ve not come up to tell me it’s time for bed? It’s Saturday and we’ve nearly got to level three and I’m winning,’ said Jamie, not taking his eyes from the screen.
‘Then you can win again tomorrow. It’s gone half past nine, Jamie.’
‘Mumma, please!’
‘Sorry, Jamie. Your mum’s right. We’ll play again tomorrow, I promise. Night night.’ Simon put his controller down and gave Jamie a pat on the shoulder.
‘Night, Simon,’ Jamie called as he left the room.
Zoe tidied up Jamie’s room while she waited for him to come back from the bathroom, then she tucked him in. ‘Anything you’d like to do tomorrow?’
‘Finish the game.’
‘Apart from that?’
‘No, not really. Stay in bed late, watch loads of TV, drink loads of Coke, all the things I can’t do at school.’ He grinned up at her.
‘Okay, deal, apart from the Coke.’ Zoe kissed him. ‘Night.’
‘Night, Mumma.’
Simon was pouring himself a glass of water from the kitchen tap when Zoe arrived downstairs.
‘Sorry. All that excitement made me thirsty. I’ll clear out of your way.’
‘I think you deserve a proper nightcap after that masterpiece of imagination at the supper table. Are you sure you didn’t train as an actor?’ she said with mock suspicion.
‘As it happens, I do feel I know New Zealand rather well. My girl—I mean, my ex-girlfriend, has spent the past year out there.’
‘Ex?’
‘Yeah. She loves it so much she’s decided to stay and marry a local.’
‘I’m sorry. Would you like a brandy? Or a whisky?’
‘I . . . As long as I’m not in your way.’
‘No. You-know-who is off elsewhere on official business, so I’m by myself all weekend. The drinks cabinet’s in the sitting room. Let’s go in there and I’ll put the fire on. It’s turned nippy.’
Simon sat in an armchair with his brandy while Zoe stretched out on the sofa.
‘You’ve certainly made a hit with my son.’
‘He’s a bright kid. You must be proud of him.’
‘I am. Marcus is always saying that I mollycoddle him too much.’
‘I think he’s an extremely well-adjusted and normal young man.’
‘I try my best, but it’s never easy bringing up a child by yourself, although at least he had my grandfather here. Changing the subject, Joanna sent you a message. She said she wants you to ring her.’ Zoe studied Simon’s expression. ‘She told me she’s known you for years and she promised she won’t let on about knowing who you really are to Marcus. Will she?’
‘Absolutely not. I trust Jo implicitly. She knows most of my secrets.’
‘Except for one. Until today anyway,’ Zoe countered. ‘I also told her about Art. What with you being here and something else she’d seen, she’d virtually guessed anyway. You really think that even though she’s a journalist, she wouldn’t spill the beans?’
‘Never.’
‘Well, I do hope she and Marcus stay together. She’s a good influence on him.’
Simon nodded silently as he took a sip of his brandy. ‘I bet you miss your grandfather.’
‘I do, very much.’
‘Were you close?’
‘Extremely. I know Jamie misses him as well, although he doesn’t say much. He was the man of the house, his father figure. Mind you, there’s lots of things I’m discovering that I didn’t know about him.’
‘Really? Like what? His life seems to have been pretty well documented.’
‘William Fielding was telling me only last week before he died that my grandfather originally hailed from Ireland. In fact, he told me all sorts of things about him. Whether they were true or not, who knows? Fact gets mixed with fiction when you go back seventy-odd years.’
‘Yes,’ Simon remarked as casually as he could. ‘Did Sir James tell you stories of the old days? I’ll bet he knew the great and the good.’
‘He did, yes. His letters are all festering away in the attic in the house in Dorset. When filming is finished I’m going to go down there and sort them out.’ Zoe stifled a yawn.
‘You’re tired, I’ll leave you alone.’ Simon drained his brandy glass and stood up. ‘Thanks for the drink.’
‘No problem. Thanks for amusing my son. Night.’
‘Night, Zoe.’
As Simon went up the stairs to his room, he was as convinced as he’d ever been that Zoe Harrison had no idea about her grandfather’s past. He hoped, for both their sakes, it stayed that way.
Despite both of their flats feeling unsafe, Marcus and Joanna had no choice but to opt for Crouch End that night – as Marcus pointed out, she at least had new locks on her door.
‘How do you fancy spending the weekend after next in a lovely country hotel in Ireland?’ Marcus asked her in bed, after he’d pulled a duvet over them to muffle their voices.
‘What? Why?’ Joanna asked.
‘Because I think I’ve pinpointed the place where dear old Sir Jim may have originally hailed from.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Jamie and I had a chat. He told me how Sir Jim had spun him some tale about this magical place in Ireland where a man and a woman had fallen in love. He showed me the place on the map.’
‘Where was it?’
‘According to Jamie, it was a small village in West Cork, called Rosscarbery. Apparently this house stands alone, right out in the bay. I’ll make some calls on Monday, get the travel agent to recommend a good hotel. Even if it turns out to be a red herring, it’s a great excuse for a holiday – and for getting away from our bugged flats. It’d be even better if you could take an extra day off, then it wouldn’t be such a rush to get there and back.’
‘I’ll try,’ she said, ‘but my boss isn’t exactly in a generous mood with me.’
‘Just tell him you’re uncovering an IRA plot.’
‘Yeah, garden plots maybe,’ Joanna said with a snort of derision.