Chapter Ten
Connor had always led a very active life. He was used to being busy; either outdoors or at The Grange, usually in front of a camera. Sometimes in the bedroom. Now he was none of the above.
Starved of information and more importantly finances, he had already had to grovel to his brother for somewhere to stay and now he was embroiled in an ongoing row with Bonnie’s solicitors over money.
He had assumed – erroneously as it turned out – that his contract with Grange Productions entitled him to a share in something.
That if he and Bonnie had ever split up, he could at least get his money back.
To his huge disappointment, it transpired that the piece of paper he’d signed in all good faith tied up his money for as long as the controlling directors of the company needed it.
Money hadn’t been a problem when Bonnie had paid for everything out of company expenses and was always lavishly generous as far as his salary was concerned.
Except now she had stopped paying him a salary, was not answering his phone calls and he’d had to resort to contacting her legal team to find out what was going on.
The smooth-talking solicitor had informed him in a bland, dispassionate voice that his money was invested, would remain invested, and that he had not been robbed. He would not be entitled to any compensation, nor any profits arising from her new programme, in which he would have no involvement.
Connor paced the room liked a zoo animal trapped in its enclosure, eyeing up the outside world through a window.
He needed to get out. Do something. Bonnie was punishing him and he regretted, not for the first time, that he had ever allowed himself to be photographed within twenty feet of Stefania.
In the beginning, his ego had been flattered by what he mistakenly thought was friendly attentiveness; that and a sexy Italian accent that sounded like an invitation for sex even when she was simply phoning in a stationery order, but it wasn’t long before he found the attention unwelcome.
He wasn’t Mr Perfect – he would admit to a simmering resentment at being sidelined during Bonnie’s discussions with American TV producers.
He wasn’t even allowed to be present, as though he was a mere accessory, not trustworthy enough to sit there, smile for the cameras and keep his trap shut.
It annoyed him that he was part of the show and had as many social media followers as Bonnie did, he just didn’t control the purse strings.
Although that would never have propelled him into an affair with Stefania, irrespective of what Bonnie might think from one ridiculous photo.
He aimed several swift kicks at the storage boxes piled in the corner of the room.
This was all bloody unfair, but he had long suspected Bonnie had a bit of a controlling streak.
She must be really enjoying watching him squirm like a fish on the end of a line.
He shoved the boxes again. Women were too complicated to get involved with, especially the sexy ones.
Except possibly Rosie: she was honest and direct and Connor found their conversations entertaining.
There was no hidden agenda with her, and she really brightened up his day.
Now, thinking back to their first meeting on that cool September day, he felt ashamed of how he had behaved.
Connor sighed. With his money tied up for the foreseeable future, he would need to try and persuade Patrick to let him stay on a bit longer at the flat. He pulled up his brother’s contact details.
‘Hi, Patrick, just thought I’d find out how things were going.’
He heard what sounded like a cynical laugh. ‘Oh I see. So it’s not because you’re after a favour?’
‘Well, I did want to ask about something.’
‘You haven’t managed to rejoin the world of glamour and fakery then?’
Connor bristled inwardly. Patrick always managed to make him feel like his television work wasn’t a proper job. Just because he wasn’t Web Services Manager for a large financial firm didn’t make him a failure or a fake.
‘I’m still reviewing my options,’ replied Connor guardedly. ‘There are plenty of opportunities out there, but you have to have the right contacts. Much like any industry,’ he added breezily. ‘Anyway, I was also ringing to ask how Grandad was.’
There was a pause at the other end. ‘We’re managing. Lisa orders his shopping for him and I go over three or four times a week. He has good days and bad days but, it is what it is.’
Connor didn’t have to try hard to imagine the resigned shrug, the look of faint disappointment that said can’t you do your share of the work for once.
He knew he hadn’t been to see Grandad as many times as he’d intended to, but once this debacle was sorted he would make amends.
Meanwhile, he realised it had been his brother and sister-in-law that had shouldered the day-to-day caring responsibilities.
‘I know you’re doing the majority of the work looking after Grandad – I appreciate it, and I will pay you back the rent I owe on the flat. Right now my cash is tied up, so it’s a bit tight finance-wise, but it hopefully won’t be too long.’
He paused to see if Patrick would acknowledge this gesture. ‘Pat, you know I would if I could.’
‘Let me guess, you’re going to be on telly again, and your tailor’s bill is overdue.’
‘Just a minute—’
‘No, you listen for once, Connor. I’ve cut back and rearranged my working hours to look after Grandad.
My wife has to bear the brunt of the domestic jobs and I’m chipping in to pay Grandad’s bills plus the mortgage on my own house.
The flat you’re living in is meant to help pay some of those bills, so forgive me if I don’t get too excited about this marvellous opportunity you’re hoping will pop up.
Unless you can start paying your way, I’m going to have to let it out.
I’m really sorry, Connor, it’s nothing personal but I’ve got to make ends meet too. ’
The line went dead and Connor chucked the phone down.
He tried to rein in his frustrations, knowing they were borne out of a guilty conscience and an age-old sibling rivalry.
As children, it had always seemed easier for Patrick; he was the one that won prizes at school, who got straight As in his school exams, and for most of his young life, Connor had been compared to his older brother.
If you work hard, you’ll grow up to be as clever as Patrick.
How many times had he heard that one. He found popularity with his peers in other ways – generally as the class entertainer – but at home, it was academic success that his parents wanted to see on their sons’ school reports. And after his mum died, it felt like one more stick to wave at him:
Just think how proud your mum would be to see you pass all your exams.
Maybe he didn’t have letters after his name but he had achieved something, and now he needed to capitalise on that, and not allow Bonnie to dictate terms.