Chapter 94
Holly looked in dismay at the media scrum surrounding the entrance of Barker, Momen and Dodds. Many of them were familiar faces; these last couple of weeks she’d felt she was almost on first-name terms with half the world’s paparazzi.
Shortly after arriving home from the Isles of Scilly, she’d come clean about her escort work to her head of chambers and to Charlie’s father.
After allowing themselves several days to mull it over, chambers had decided to be supportive.
She’d avoid court appearances for the foreseeable future, confining her work to behind-the-scenes support for her colleagues and allow time for any fuss to die down.
There’d be some impact on her income, but all things considered it could have been a lot worse.
Nor did it seem there was anything to fear from Tim.
Belinda was pregnant, it turned out, with IVF-conceived twins, and both she and Tim had made it clear they’d neither of them welcome a challenging ten-year-old into the family.
Conscious that he might not come out of the whole business well, Tim had even offered to start regular maintenance payments.
The two worst threats dealt with, Holly and Coffie had met with Chris, telling him in no uncertain terms that no more money would be forthcoming and that if he did betray her, they’d get the police involved.
News had leaked, days later, but so far the internet website that had run the story was declining to name their source.
Privately, the police weren’t confident about a successful prosecution.
Outside the offices, an attempt had been made, by means of rope and a chain of black-clad security guards, to create a clear walkway to the doors, but zoom lenses and mics on long poles leered into the space like raptors ready for a feeding frenzy.
‘Turn round,’ Holly told Coffie. ‘Drive us home. Better still, take Charlie to school. I should never have agreed to this.’
‘No way.’ Charlie started banging on the car window. ‘Tug’s here. Look, in that black car. It’s Tug.’
Entrance to the car park was being carefully controlled. A man in a high-viz jacket exchanged a few words with Coffie and they were allowed through. Charlie was still trying to attract Tug’s attention.
‘You’ve got competition in the hero-worship department,’ Holly muttered.
Coffie lifted his sunglasses a fraction so that he could peer at her beneath them. ‘With Charlie or both of you? Because one I can cope with. The other, not so much.’
Holly looked away before he could see her blushing. ‘You two look like extras from Men in Black,’ she grumbled.
Charlie, who would have been out of the car already had it not been for Coffie’s child locks, was dressed, like his hero, in a three-piece suit with black sunglasses.
She couldn’t afford it, but he’d begged and begged and in the end she’d thought, sod it.
Her son had to start taking priority over her parents. It was that simple.
‘They won’t let either of you in the meeting,’ she warned, as Coffie parked the car. ‘Token recipients only.’
‘We’re your bodyguards,’ Charlie said. ‘In case those punks try anything again. Coffie, will you let me out already?’
The child locks were released, and they all climbed out. Cameras started clicking and the mass of onlookers surged forward.
‘Step aside,’ Coffie drawled, as he and Charlie took up their positions on either side of Holly. Seriously, had the bozos rehearsed this?
‘Let the men come through,’ Charlie growled.
Better get it over with. Holly, and the two men she loved, set off across the car park.
‘Never a dull moment,’ Tug said, as he and Tara walked past security. A lot of security.
‘I quite liked my dull life,’ Tara replied. ‘Well, some of it.’
‘We’ll get it back.’ Tug took her hand as they made for the stairs.
The night before, she’d amazed him by saying she’d decided to sell her house.
‘I’ve been clinging on to my old life.’ She’d waited for the ad break before dropping her bombshell. ‘It’s time to build a new one.’
With me? He’d wanted to ask it, hadn’t quite had the nerve.
‘Something smaller will be much easier,’ she went on. ‘A spare bedroom for when the boys want to stay and a garage or something I can use as a studio. A bit of a garden might be nice.’
‘Got anywhere in mind?’ he asked, conscious that his heart was beating painfully hard.
‘Actually,’ she’d said, ‘I was thinking of Dittisham.’
‘I can’t believe you gave that token back,’ Sheila grumbled, as the car pulled up outside the solicitors’ offices. ‘What possessed you to do such a thing? Very nice car, though. I could get used to this.’
‘I don’t advise it,’ Cheryl said, as an engine roared loud and insistent behind them and she turned to see Robin and his biker girlfriend glide into the car park. ‘It’s gone, Mum. We won’t inherit anything.’
‘So why are we here? Why did they insist we come?’
‘They didn’t insist you came.’ Cheryl smiled to herself. ‘Only me.’
Her mother grunted.
‘Holly thinks it’s about closing the case,’ Cheryl went on. ‘Confirming that we no longer have the tokens, so the money will go elsewhere. They may ask us to sign something saying we accept we’re no longer beneficiaries. Then they’ll make a public announcement. It will all be over soon.’
Their driver got out and walked round to open Sheila’s door. ‘Do you need a hand, Mrs Young?’ Cheryl heard him say, as Robin and Jax made their way over.
Robin had got even better looking these last few weeks, Cheryl reflected. He’d grown a short beard and his hair was longer, making him look even more like the pirate Tug insisted on calling him. So glamorous, these new friends of hers.
But Cheryl was feeling better about herself too.
She’d lost four pounds and Sabri and her daughters were teaching her the art of charity-shop dressing.
It was amazing the bargains you could pick up, especially when you were a bit of a plus size.
Not that she intended to be that for much longer.
A pound a week, Sabri had told her, that was sensible, sustainable weight loss.
The driver opened Cheryl’s door.
Smoothing down her new dress, originally from Hobbs in a dark cherry red, a fraction of the price second hand, Cheryl got to her feet. If this was to be her last taste of the highlife, she was going to enjoy it.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ Joe Caiger began.
Robin winked at Cheryl, who turned as red as her dress. She has a crush on you, Jax had warned him the night before, but the truth was, Cheryl had a crush on all of them, even little Charlie and the Carter kids. She’d lived with no company but her mother for far too long.
The tables in the firm’s conference room had been arranged in a square. Robin and Cheryl were sitting directly opposite Caiger. Sabri and Holly were to their left, Tara and Tug on their right.
As they’d been warned, only the six of them had been allowed into the conference room; Jax and the others were waiting outside. There were gaps visible through the blinds, though, and more than once, Robin had caught sight of eyes, at roughly the height of a ten-year-old boy, peering in at them.
There were a lot of security guards present; almost as though Logan Quick’s entire fortune was somewhere in the building.
Caiger, at the front of the room, was flanked by four of his colleagues, three of them male, the other a woman.
All looked older than Caiger, maybe senior partners in the firm, but Robin guessed he shouldn’t be surprised by the formalities.
Logan Quick’s will would have been a big deal, even if it hadn’t been quite so eccentric.
On the table, directly in front of the man to Caiger’s left, sat a slim, black briefcase.
‘I appreciate these last few weeks have been difficult,’ Caiger went on.
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Tug muttered, earning himself a frown from Tara.
‘So, I’m sure you’ll all appreciate the chance to put the speculation to an end and move on with your lives,’ Caiger said.
‘Actually, we’ve already done that,’ Tug said.
Robin had known the big guy wouldn’t be able to keep his trap shut. Say nothing we don’t have to, Holly had repeated, when they’d all got together earlier in the week. And certainly nothing about the accident thirty years ago.
As they’d expected, the police had been unable to find either Thomas or Lauren and the boat, Gemini, had vanished completely; joined the hundreds of other wrecked ships around the Scillies, had been Tug’s guess.
After a slight frown of disapproval at Tug’s interruptions, Caiger cleared his throat.
‘Mr Quick’s will is very short and very clear.
Having previously made generous financial arrangements for his ex-wife, his children and his staff, his entire remaining fortune is to be shared between the seven individuals who are currently in possession of the tokens.
For the avoidance of doubt, these are the same tokens that were previously sent to Mr Trevor Winter, Mr Robin Knight, Mr Craig Lewis, Mrs Tara Webb, Mrs Sabri Carter, Miss Cheryl Young and Miss Holly Baker.
They are of a unique construction, built by a process that has never been made public, and their authenticity can be easily verified. ’
Tug gave an ostentatious yawn.
‘Mr Quick’s residual fortune, after the various trusts for the benefit of family members, inheritance tax and our own fees, will be in the region of four billion pounds. You’ll all shortly be very wealthy people. My congratulations.’
‘Before you get carried away, mate,’ Tug said. ‘You should know we were telling the truth when we said we no longer have the tokens. We gave them back. You’ll probably find them somewhere in his house on St Helen’s. Maybe you can claim the money.’
Caiger paused for a moment.
‘We anticipated this,’ he said, and looked to the man at his left. ‘Because there’s been a development.’
A development?