Chapter 41 #2
Ollie stands. “I’ll go look. Louise, can you help? It could be anything. Actual writing, or even symbols. Any piece of paper, anything. Let's check.” They both set off into the house, heading up to the bedrooms first.
“They went in a taxi,” Dad reminds me. “Let me check with the taxi company where they took them. If they never actually got to cricket, where the hell could they have gone? A fourteen-year-old and two eight-year-olds should not be hard to find.” Dad is applying logic.
I have none left, all thoughts have drowned in panic.
“Shall we phone the police?” Mum asks. She has tears in her eyes, and we’re matching worried expressions.
“No notes. Not that I can see, anyway,” Ollie adds, coming back eventually into the kitchen.
Louise is scouring the front lounge. We’re all stood in the kitchen. Dad is pacing outside on the phone. I start to hyperventilate.
“Sit down, Mum. We’ll find them. They can’t have gotten far.”
I see Dad blow out a breath as he comes back into the house.
He comes straight for me and pulls me into him.
“They went to the airport.” Dad looks fearful, and my legs go out from underneath me.
“The taxi was booked from our house straight to London City.” My mouth drops open.
“Noah booked it. Used our account,” Dad states, looking at Mum. She shakes her head in disbelief.
“How did he book it? Mum?” I look at her.
“He always does. He does it online. Him and Nat set it up, so it was easier for us.” She looks horror-stricken.
“Oh my God, they could be anywhere.” I sink onto the chair, my heart banging in my chest. I feel like I might have a stroke.
“What if they’ve gone to Jude?” Ollie drops the nuclear option onto our laps. With Nigel on his way.
I close my eyes. Please, no. But also, please yes. If they’re at Jude’s, at least they’ll be safe. I pray they have gone to him.
“How would they have booked flights? And paid for them?” Louise asks.
We all look at each other for a minute, then Ollie dashes to the kitchen drawer, yanking it open.
“It’s gone. The credit card Jude gave us. It’s gone. They’ve taken it.” He shouts, “Mum, ring Jude now. Ring him.”
“He might be able to track them even if they’re not there. His brother tracked Noah last time he took off. You need to ring him, Emma.” Dad has hold of me on the chair while Mum is crouching down near my legs, both of them touching me, giving comfort. “Do it before Nigel gets here.”
I nod, I have no voice left. My boys have run off. They hated me so much that they’ve left me.
“Breathe, Emma. You can do it,” Dad urges me on.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I’m puffing and blowing trying to get myself together to phone Jude.
I’m obviously not moving fast enough, as Ollie has plucked my phone from the table outside and rushed in, Jude’s number already on the screen.
He hands it over, having pressed the green button to call.
It rings and rings. And goes to voicemail. “Jude. I— the kids—” I hang up. I can’t get any more words out. I take a deep breath. I need to keep it together for the kids.
I try again. But the call won’t go through. I hear the beep of an incoming call and pull the phone away from my ear. Jude’s calling.
I hit answer.
“Jude. Oh God. Jude. The boys have run away. We don’t know where they are.” I take a breath in. “Can you help? I’m sorry to ring. Jude I—”
His soft voice comes at me, and it feels like silk washing over me.
His words are even better. “They’re here.
They’ve just got here. They’re safe, Emma.
I’ve got them. All three of them. Cal’s here as well.
We were just getting the story, and were going to call you.
” He pauses slightly. “It’s okay, Em.” His voice is gentle, no accusation, no hint of anything, just love, just kindness.
He knows how upset I am, can hear my strangled sobs.
“Come over. I’ll send the plane. They’re safe.
” It’s as if he’s giving me a hug. I can almost feel his arms around me.
“Jude.” I get out his name on a cry.
And now I can hear how upset he is. “Don’t cry, baby. Come over. Come to me. I’ve got you all. They’re safe, Emma. I’m sending a car for you now. Go to London City airport. Mark will pick you up.”
I start to sob, and Dad takes the phone from me. I can hear him talking, getting all the arrangements.
I don’t have any opportunity to enjoy the euphoria of my boys being found and being safe as the door bangs open. And Nigel strides in.
“Where are my boys? It’s all your fault they’ve gone. You and that man of yours. All this upset, they’ve had enough of it. Cameras, police at the door. You’re a joke.”
He doesn’t get any further as Dad has shoved him up against the wall, with Ollie standing behind him. Dad’s face is white with rage.
“How dare you speak to my daughter like that. If you hadn’t been hounding her at work and at home, the boys would have been happy to come to you. They’d rather run away than come to your house.” Dad has hit back with gusto.
Amy is standing in the doorway looking stricken. I go over to her, ignoring the scuffle going on between Dad, Nigel, and Ollie.
“We’ve found them, Amy. Cal is with them.” I take hold of her hands as tears spring into her eyes. “They’re safe and sound.”
“Well why the fuck did you not say?” Nigel spits out.
“You never gave me a chance, as usual, Nigel. Spewing hate and being nasty as ever.” Dragging every ounce of strength I have left in my body and mind, I spin around to face him.
“They’ve gone to Jude. You know, the man you hate.
They’ve left the pair of us and gone to him.
What the hell does it say about you?” I point at him.
“Your sons would rather head to Ireland than come to your home.” He can have it back with bells on.
I am not taking the total wrap for this.
His behaviour has alienated his kids. He needs to sort himself out.
“Well he can fetch them back,” he shouts. “I’m phoning the police.” He drags his phone out of his pocket. “He’s kidnapped them.”
Ollie plucks the phone out of his hands. He’s taller than Nigel and a lot fitter. Nigel takes a step towards him, but Ollie just smirks at him.
“He never. And you’re not phoning the police. We’re going to get them. Jude’s sending a car and a plane for us.” He looks around at me. “Mum, get our passports. That’s all we need.”
“I’m coming. Cal is not staying in Ireland. Amy, go and get my passport.” Nigel thinks he’s calling the shots.
Well, I’ve got news for him.
“You’re not. You’re not welcome at the Greystones’. And it’s a wedding. We’ll make arrangements to send Cal back.”
There’s a knock at the front door. “That better not be the police,” Dad states as he heads towards it. “Oh, hello, Sir Philip, nice to see you. Come in.” Dad sounds so calm, looking as if Sir Philip is a regular daily caller.
We all look around at each other. What the hell is Sir Philip Langford doing here?
“I’m sorry to barge in, but I’ve just had a funny phone call from Lord Sutherland.
” Everyone looks at him in confusion. “Tarron Barclay.” He looks at me to see if I understand him, and I nod in recognition of the name.
It’s as much as I can manage. “Well, Tarron’s in Ireland and he said that Cal has turned up with your boys, Emma.
Said I ought to get over there sharpish.
” He smiles around at us all. “They’re in big trouble, I suspect. ”
He goes to his daughter, who looks terrible, worry and nerves digging lines into her face. “It’s okay, Amy. Cal is a man of action, like me.” He almost sounds proud of his grandson. “But he’s fine. Tarron is supervising him for us.”
“He can come home. I’m going to get him,” Nigel states, looking annoyed.
“You are not coming with us,” I hit back straight away. “You can sort your own flight out. I am not taking you with me.” Nigel swells like a hot air balloon, and I am prepared for the slanging match.
“If I can suggest a compromise,” Sir Philip gets in before any more anger can get thrown into the mix.
“Cal is being very well looked after. And I understand it is the O’Clery wedding that they’re all attending.
Why don’t I go along with yourself, Emma.
I can be with Cal, and we can stay for the wedding.
It is a huge society event, after all. No harm can come to Cal.
Why, I even believe his suit was sent over.
” Sir Philip is pouring oil, smoothing the way with his uber-polite manners.
His reasoning. At this point, I am even desperate for him to come with us.
“No. He’s my son and I want him home. Away from that set of criminals and dodgy rockstars.” Nigel is as usual not reading the room.
“I’d hardly call Tarron's son, Viscount Stirling, a dodgy rockstar. And if you are referring to Lord Stockton, why, his mother—the dowager countess Rowena—is one of my favourite people.” Sir Philip is glaring at his son-in-law.
Name dropping faster than water over Niagara Falls. “Amy, what do you think?”
Amy side-eyes Nigel, who glares at her.
“Well, I’d like to talk to Cal. Make sure he is okay. But yes, I think that would be okay if you go, Papa.”
Nigel snorts out. “Not a fucking chance, Amy. My son is not staying in Ireland. I can’t stop you staying there with the other two, but Carlton, no. He comes home.”
“Fine. Sir Philip can come with us and fetch him back.” I smile at Sir Philip, knowing damn well that once he gets there, there’s not a cat in hell's chance he won’t want to stay at the society wedding of the year.
But Nigel is backed into a corner. He can’t argue about that plan. And any other arguments, well, they are with his father-in-law, not me.
My phone rings. Jude again.
“Hey, baby,” he says on my answering. “The car will be there in ten. The plane’s at London City Airport waiting for you. Bring your mum and dad with you and Ollie, if you want. Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m fine. Sir Philip’s here. He’s going to come and fetch Cal back.”
I hear Jude chuckle. “I’ll bet Tarron rang him.
Honestly, he can’t help meddling. No problem, though.
You only need your passport. Evie said to tell you all your clothes are here.
” I can hear the warmth in his voice, and it feels like the most effective painkiller on the planet.
My stomach stops roiling, and my nerves stop jangling.
“The boys are fine, drinking Coke and stuffing food down. I think Tarron is arranging a cricket match for them.”
“I hope you told them off. Causing all this upset,” I say, knowing he won’t have.
“Of course. Spanked their behinds. And confiscated my credit card before they jetted off to LA with Jackson.” I can hear the grin. He gentles his voice again, and I melt on the spot. “See you in a couple of hours. Don’t worry any more. I’ve got you all.”
We hang up and I’ve completely forgotten I have a room full of people. God knows what my face must look like. I know I’ve turned to mush on the floor.
“What a fucking joke. My sons were missing and he’s not only making jokes, but flirting with you. It’s disgusting at a time like this.” Nigel always looks to capitalise on the negative.
“I thought it was pretty epic,” states Louise, giving Nigel a dirty look. “I’m hoping I can jet off to LA with Jackson. Have you seen him, Elaine?” She gets her phone out to show Mum. Images are pulled up. Even Amy is having a peek.
“Nigel, why don’t you and Amy head off home. If we’re all going to Ireland, we’ll FaceTime you when we get there. So you can see Cal is all fine. Then we’ll head back in a timely manner.” Sir Philip is again smoothing our path.
We hear a car pull up onto the drive, and Mum perks up, raring to go. “We need our passports.”
The knock on the door distracts her from primping her hair and makeup. God knows what she thinks she’s attending. But then, any trip is an event in her book. This is, after all, the woman who turned a delivery at the door into an internet sensation comedy sideshow.
Mark is stood there smiling at me. “Emma, hi. Jude said we’re collecting passengers and passports then heading out.” He smiles around at the assembled crowd.
Louise looks like she’s seen a unicorn as she looks at him, but manages to say, “I’ll lock up and sort everything here. You get going. Ollie, take your mum. Elaine, Brian, ring me if you need anything. I can be over in Ireland in a jiffy.” She starts to push at us to go.
I feel like I’ve been on the waltzers and been spat out halfway through the ride—dazed and a bit starry eyed.
But the things I know are settling in. Jude wants me there.
He has my kids. They want him. I want him.
I am in love with Jude Greystone. And I need to tell him I am happy— No, more than happy to become Mrs Emma Lincoln Greystone at the first opportunity.