17
At a quarter past seven that evening, Lyssa’s doorbell rang. Freida, Carter and Jason, who were all sitting around the small table in Lyssa’s kitchen area, ceased their quiet talking, and Carter got up to answer it.
Lyssa was lying on the sofa in the living area pretending to doze but sat up when she heard her client’s voice. Bibbie was snuggled up protectively against her. It was as if he sensed she was hurt and in shock and wanted to offer his body warmth, as he’d never left her side since she’d returned.
‘Hello – I’m Elizabeth Grainger. I was hoping to speak to Lyssa?’
‘Ummm, just let me check,’ Carter said, but Lyssa was already swinging her feet to the floor and putting a hand up to check that her long ponytail wasn’t too hopelessly tangled.
‘It’s OK, let her in, please,’ Lyssa called over.
‘She isn’t alone,’ Carter said quickly. ‘Neville’s with her.’
At this, the other two left the kitchen area and came forward, providing a protective phalanx around her as Neville shut the door behind him, and gave the room a general, wary smile.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jason challenged him flatly.
‘He’s with me,’ Elizabeth said, coming towards Lyssa and then sitting beside her on the sofa. She looked at Lyssa anxiously. ‘Are you really all right? When Nev told me about the car accident I nearly had kittens. No cracked ribs or anything? You can breathe all right?’
‘Yes,’ Lyssa said, looking from her downstairs neighbour to her client then back again. ‘You know Neville?’
‘Yeah – well, sort of. My fella knows him, and he introduced us recently, and since Nev was just ideal for what I needed, I asked him if he’d take me on as a client of his,’ Elizabeth said, then grimaced. ‘Sorry – that sounds a bit confusing, right?’
Carter gave a brief laugh. ‘Just a bit. You’re the relative of Amelia Montrose, I take it? You’ve commissioned Lyssa to write her biography?’
‘Right. Nev told me what happened this afternoon and said things had gone on long enough and that we needed to come clean and have some kind of council of war, and I agree. Lyssa, I’m so sorry things have got out of control like this.
Really, I had no idea you might be in any danger,’ Elizabeth said, putting a gentle hand on her forearm.
Today, the petite woman was dressed in sapphire-coloured trousers and jacket, with a cream-lace semi-see-through blouse. And although her make-up was immaculate, as ever, Lyssa could see that underneath it she looked pale and strained. And genuinely contrite.
‘Elizabeth, just what is going on?’ she asked, too tired to be angry, but beginning to feel indignant. She’d had a feeling all along her client was holding out on her, and now it seemed she was right.
‘It’s sort of a long story,’ Elizabeth began, then paused and frowned. ‘Well, not long, maybe, but complicated. And involved. And, to coin a cliché, it’s hard to know where to begin.’
Lyssa’s three friends exchanged looks, and by unspoken mutual consent, settled down around her.
Jason simply sat on the floor by the sofa in front of her, whilst Freida took the last seat on the sofa the other side of her.
Carter pulled a kitchen chair up close and all four of them turned questioning, uncompromising looks at the newcomers.
Neville leaned nonchalantly against the nearest wall, taking himself a little out of the way and trying his best to look harmless.
‘Well, to coin another cliché,’ Lyssa responded dryly, ‘just start at the beginning and keep on going until you get to the end.’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘Yes. OK – well, it’s sort of simple, in a way.
One of my aunts always said that Monty wrote the lyrics for the Lucky Cuckoos, but I didn’t think much of it – not really.
Growing up, my wicked “aunty” Monty and her wild-child ways were just one more example of family lore, along with a famous Montrose beauty in the 1600s who had an affair with a duke, giving him several bastards, and securing a lot of the family land.
That and the ghost of the headless monk in the wine cellar. You know the sort of thing.’
Freida couldn’t help but give a quick snort of genuine laughter. ‘Oh sure – we all have those stories in our families, right, guys?’
‘Actually,’ Jason began, but was quickly told to shut up by his beloved.
‘So, like I said, I didn’t really pay that much mind to things, growing up,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I just got on with life and did the usual things – college, married, divorced, started up my own interior design company, married, divorced again, so far yawn, yawn, right? But then I met this fella . . .’
‘Oh, here we go,’ Freida drawled knowingly, and Elizabeth laughed.
‘No, nothing like that. He’s smashing. Good-looking, sexy, smart, wealthy and a film producer.’
‘Oh, here we still go,’ Freida repeated, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me – he promised to make you a star?’
‘Hell no,’ Elizabeth said, sounding appalled.
‘I can’t act for toffee. No, he’s the real deal, honestly.
Spends half his time in LA. Don’t worry, I checked him out up and down before we got really involved.
I’m no mug. And before you ask, no, he didn’t want me to invest in his latest film!
’ She grinned at Freida, who grinned back.
‘I wouldn’t have been able to anyway,’ Elizabeth grumbled.
‘I plough all I make back into my business. That’s the thing about coming from a family like mine – everyone always assumes I’m loaded.
But I’m not. I do OK, but it’s not as if I have cash coming out of my ears or anything.
Traditionally, all the family wealth stayed with the men, and by the time the law changed – well, the Montroses weren’t the force they once were.
I know from Lyssa’s research how everyone thought of Monty as the villain of the piece because of Glen’s Will, and his leaving everything to her and all.
And how smug they felt when the courts sided with the Bannisters, and overturned the Will, giving all Glen’s legacy to the Bannister family.
Nobody ever thinks about how the Montrose family was cheated. ’
‘Oh boo-hoo,’ Jason said, faking a bored yawn. ‘Poor little rich girl is actually poor, is she? Well, that’s a twist.’
Again, Elizabeth gave a wide grin, showing she could at least take a joke at her own expense.
‘OK, OK, have it your way. But the thing is, I need capital to boost my business just like anyone else, so when my fella tells me there’s going to be this surefire big film going into production soon, with American and European backing, and that it’s going to be set in the 1960s, and they’re looking for a “mood soundtrack” for that era .
. . well, of course, it made me sit up and take notice.
I told my fella all about Monty, and the Lucky Cuckoos, and played him their hits and he was well impressed.
He said their sound and songs and especially the lyrics were just ideal for the film’s plot line, and, being a producer, he has some pull, and he was sure he could swing it their way. ’
‘Hold on,’ Lyssa said, seeing at once where this was all going.
‘Big hit movies tend to give a real boost to old song tracks, don’t they?
Introducing old songs to a whole new generation of listeners – they go viral or get downloaded by the bucketload and make a mint in royalties for those responsible for originally producing them, right?
So if you can prove that Monty wrote the lyrics, you and your family would be in line for a sizeable chunk of money. Yes?’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘Exactly. And it would have nothing to do with the Bannisters and Glen’s estate or his inheritance either. Monty would have been entitled to those royalties in her own right.’
‘So that’s why you wanted me on board? Not to write the book, but to find proof of her authorship!’ Lyssa yelped. ‘Elizabeth, why couldn’t you just have been straight with me in the first place?’ At her sharp tone, Bibbie growled a little, so she reached down and gently began to stroke his head.
‘Yeah – that’s not on,’ Carter said as all the others glared at her.
‘Oh now, just hold on a minute,’ Elizabeth said, beginning to flush with temper.
‘I want you to write the book as well – I mean it when I say I want you to put the record straight on Monty. You yourself could see that she’d had a raw deal in the press, right?
And you found out about the charity she started and all that.
You can’t tell me that she doesn’t deserve to have her reputation re-evaluated, can you? ’ she challenged.
‘I think you’re gonna have to ’fess up, girl,’ Freida put in. ‘You wanted the money, plain and simple.’
Again Elizabeth flushed, not liking being put on the spot like that.
‘Sure, I did,’ she acknowledged reluctantly, but then flashed, ‘and what’s wrong with that?
For over sixty years Monty’s real role in the band’s success has never been acknowledged.
And if it had been, she’d have had the royalties due her, and at least they would have gone on to be handed down to her family, as is only right.
We were robbed of that money – so why shouldn’t we fight to get it back? ’
‘And by we, you mean mainly you?’ Carter said quietly.
‘Well, since I’m the one funding the book, and it’s my lover who’s setting up the film deal, I think I deserve the lion’s share. Don’t you?’ Elizabeth fought her corner ferociously.
‘You don’t seem very concerned about whoever’s been making Lyssa’s life hell recently.’ It was Carter’s calm accusations that once again put Elizabeth on the defensive.
‘Hah! Now that’s where you’re wrong,’ she said triumphantly. ‘That’s where Nev comes into this. Right, Nev?’ Elizabeth said, looking across at him.
Neville sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘There’s no suppose about it,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘Nev’s been looking out for you all this time. That’s what he does.’
‘Huh?’ Jason asked, blinking. ‘What do you mean – what he does?’