Deadly Business

Eleven

I took Charlie down to Ben’s as soon as Liam had gone. An hour later I’d have been glad of his distracting presence, for it was pretty emotional when the Mossos people, a man and a woman, arrived with wee runaway Jonathan.

They parked their car outside the village and wore plain clothes when they walked him up to the door. They may have been under orders from Alex, but whether they were or not, I was grateful to them for their sensitivity. The square was Sunday busy and being hauled out of a police car in full view would have dissolved what was left of the kid’s self-esteem.

As it was, he was the picture of misery when I opened the front door to them, and he wrapped himself around me, tight as a small python. He was wearing what I can best describe as a long shirt, stretching down past his knees. The female officer explained that he had wet himself in the back of the truck and that his beach clothes were in his little bag, which he still carried slung over his shoulder. If he’d been planning to run away, I knew what I’d find in there when I looked: his favourite toy, a stuffed green dinosaur that he’s had from infancy, and a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, in French.

When I asked her if she could give me the names and address of the couple who’d been his unwitting taxi drivers, she shot me a look full of alarm and shook her head. I explained that I only wanted to apologise to them, and to thank them for doing the right thing when they’d found the wee chap, but still she said that she couldn’t do that, or her bosses would hand her her head as a plaything. I didn’t press her further. I decided instead that if Philippe and Theresa knew them, as almost certainly they would, I would give them a five-hundred euro tab at Vaive to work their way through, and that’s a lot of chicken pigs.

Janet and Tom were waiting in the hall when I said goodbye to the cops and peeled wee Jonathan from round my legs. He looked at them fearfully, then saw what his sister was holding in her hand and burst into tears.

‘It’s all right,’ Tom told him, as he took the white chocolate Magnum from his sister. The kid gave him an awkward, cracked smile. We took him into the kitchen, where Conrad joined us, and I sat him at the table, while I tossed his damp and smelly beach clothes into the washing machine, along with my reprieved bikini and a couple of towels, all I had left to boost the load after my earlier burst of laundry mania.

He was halfway through his ice cream when I came back from the utility room. I let him finish before I asked the question that we all knew had to be put. ‘Why did you run away, son? You need to tell us, so we understand and can help you.’

His eyes became hard; they were scary in such a small child. ‘I don’t want Duncan as a daddy,’ he whispered.

‘Neither do I,’ Janet exclaimed. ‘But it’s not going to happen. Mum doesn’t like him any more, remember.’

‘But she does,’ wee Jonathan wailed. ‘She’s in America and they’ve got married.’

‘No they haven’t,’ Janet protested. ‘Jonathan, Mum’s in America because she’s been ill, but she’s better now and she’s on her way home.’

Fuck it, Susie! I thought. You couldn’t trust your daughter with the whole truth, and now I’m stuck with it.

‘They are so married,’ the wee fellow insisted. ‘I heard Auntie Primavera talking to Mum on the phone and that’s what they were talking about.’ He looked at me warily. ‘I couldn’t help it, Auntie Primavera. I was going to the toilet and the door was open.’ That was a small lie, the toilet being one floor above the room where I’d spoken to Susie, but I wasn’t going to pick up on it. ‘I heard you say it.’

Janet was struck dumb. She turned to me, and I nodded. It was all I could do. ‘Mum never told me,’ she said, sounding more bitter than a twelve-year-old ever should. ‘When I spoke to her she told me about her illness, but she didn’t say anything about that.’

I reached out and ruffled wee Jonathan’s hair. ‘Maybe you can see why,’ I suggested. ‘I am sure she felt, and still does, that it was something she had to tell you in person.’

‘She can tell me any way she likes,’ she protested. ‘I agree with Jonathan. I don’t want her to be married to that man. He’s not nice. He tried to bully the boys, and I don’t like the way he looks at me either.’

That was a new element, although it didn’t take me completely by surprise. ‘What do you mean by that, Janet?’ I asked her.

She hesitated. ‘It’s just … not nice. There was one time at home last year when I’d just got out of the pool and I’d taken my bikini off. I thought I was alone, but there’s a glass door and it was like a mirror and I could see Duncan there and he was looking at me, with no clothes on. When he realised I’d seen him, he just smiled. He’s a bad man, Auntie Primavera.’

Too bloody right he is, I thought, as alarmed by the revelation as she must have been by the experience. ‘Then you must tell your mother that story,’ I insisted.

‘I can’t,’ the girl whispered.

‘Then I will,’ said Conrad. ‘And I’ll be asking Mr Culshaw about it as well.’

Janet took her brother’s hand. ‘We don’t want to live with him, Auntie Primavera. We don’t have to, do we? Can we stay here tomorrow?’

‘I’d love to say yes, Janet. But you know I can’t; your mother wants you home. You might not like her choice of a husband; hell, I don’t, as you must realise, but it was hers to make.’

‘But you don’t always need to have a man,’ she pointed out.

‘True,’ I admitted. ‘I haven’t had a partner, not since your dad and I split up thirteen years ago. That’s been my choice …’ I felt Liam’s presence in the room, ‘… but I’m free to change my mind about it, just as your mum’s free to … make her own mistakes. Duncan will know, or be told by me if necessary, that as your stepfather, he has to care for you two as if you were his own. Let’s not condemn him out of hand. The fact that he’s back with your mother means surely that he knows he could have been better last time, and that he’ll be a good stepdad.’

Her expression told me that she didn’t believe a word of that. I couldn’t complain; neither did I.

Wee Jonathan slept with his sister that night. It was Tom’s idea; maybe he was considerate, or maybe he didn’t want to have to listen to the wee man crying.

We were all up at sparrowfart next morning; quarter to seven, to be exact. Tom and I had to be on the road by eight to reach Barcelona Airport comfortably for our eleven thirty flight to Heathrow, and Conrad wanted to get the kids back to Monaco for midday, which meant that he had to leave around the same time. As I got myself ready, I reflected that Liam had been right to go back to the hotel. First morning with a new man, one, I would not have wanted to rush off and leave him, and two, I’d have preferred less company. There was a third factor too, that I hadn’t taken into account the evening before, not until Susie’s example had been laid out for us all. It was a potentially life-changing step for Tom, and I needed to prepare him for it in a way she certainly hadn’t done with her two.

I almost rang Liam to tell him we were off, but I didn’t reckon the Riomar was geared for early morning calls, so instead I sent a text to the mobile number he’d given me. All it said was, ‘Hasta Sabado. Pxxx’; he could work that out for himself. I confess that I was anxious when I said goodbye to the kids and Conrad, worried about what awaited them and also, naggingly, how he might react to Janet’s story of Culshaw’s sneak peek at her undressing, once he was face to face with the guy.

I would have liked to go with them, and I believe they’d have preferred that too, but the promise I’d made to Susie had made that impossible, and so I could do nothing but trust that she and the Kents would make the situation as easy as possible for them.

We took our other car down to the airport. The jeep is a few years old now, and much as I love it, Tom reached the age a while ago at which his head started to be turned by rather flashier motors. There was gentle nagging, about a BMW, or maybe one of those cute little Mercedes sports cars with the folding roof, or maybe an Audi. I resisted them all, but then the Mini Coupé was launched, and I was as hooked as he was. We bought a nice blue one, the Cooper S model, with all the toys they had on offer thrown in by way of a discount, and that’s become our treat car. The jeep still does most of the mileage, but when we’re going somewhere special it’s in that flash little bugger.

It goes like that off a shovel, but I rarely allow it to express itself. Still, we made good time down the autopista. Tom didn’t say a word until we were south of Girona, but eventually he came out with the question I’d been expecting, the one he could only ask when we were alone.

‘Do you like Liam, Mum?’

‘I rather think I do,’ I admitted. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No, I like him too. I want to train with him. He told me he’s a sixth dan black belt in karate. That’s serious, Mum. Our instructor’s only third dan himself. I can learn a lot from him; so could wee Jonathan.’

That surprised me. ‘You think?’

‘Yes. Wee Jonathan needs somebody to teach him things. He’s frightened of everything. I try my best to make him not scared, but I’m not with him all the time.’

‘We’re a long way from Monaco,’ I pointed out. ‘And besides, Liam’s only visiting; he’s on holiday, like most of the people who come here.’

‘He’ll still be here when we get back, won’t he?’ he asked, anxiously.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘unless he gets bored and goes back to Toronto. That’s where he lives.’

‘He wouldn’t do that, would he?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m sure he won’t. I hope he doesn’t.’ All of a sudden, I was less sure of myself. He wouldn’t. Would he?

As if in answer to my question, my phone rang, loud in the car through the speakers. ‘Yes,’ I said, to accept the call.

‘Hi.’ I was getting to like the sound of his voice, well-travelled Irish. ‘I got your text; received and understood. Did you get on the road okay?’

‘We did, thanks.’ I stressed the plural, hoping he would realise that he wasn’t speaking to me alone. ‘We are, in fact; about halfway there. We were just talking about you. Now I’m gone, Tom reckons you’ll bugger off with the first blonde you see.’

‘I do not,’ he protested, loudly. ‘I never said that, Liam. It’s Mum kidding. Do you really live in Toronto?’

‘I do. I have a nice big duplex down on Harbourfront, with a view over Lake Ontario, right across to America, if you could see that far. When you come back, I’ll show you some of my photographs.’

‘We will hold you to that,’ I told him. ‘I’ll call you when we get to our hotel in Glasgow.’

‘Which one? Some of those can be dodgy.’

‘The Malmaison; it’s fairly new, very chic, from what I saw on its website. Bye for now.’

I hit the button on the steering wheel that cancels the call and drove on. ‘I’d like to go to Toronto, Mum,’ Tom said, dreamily.

We had reached the airport, five minutes before our target arrival time of ten o’clock, and I was reversing into a parking space in the multi-storey when the phone rang again. I switched off the engine, killing the Bluetooth, and took it from my pocket. I checked the number, imagining it would be Liam, calling again to wish us a safe flight. I was wrong: ‘Audrey mobile’ showed on screen. I thumbed the icon to accept her call.

‘Hi,’ I began. ‘Where are you calling from? You should be almost home by now. Conrad and the kids will be well into France by now.’

‘I’m at the airport, Nice Airport,’ she replied. I knew from her voice … it was shaky and she sounded scared … that something was wrong, very wrong, and felt a sudden surge of relief that I wasn’t on hands free and that Tom couldn’t hear her. He was engaged in taking out bags from the boot; I left him to it and took a few steps away.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘It’s Susie. Primavera, she’s died.’

Looking back, I shouldn’t have been as shocked as I was. I knew how ill Susie was; I knew that her chances of long-term survival were practically nil. I knew the complications of the chemotherapy regime she’d been on. I knew why they’d pumped platelets into her bloodstream, and what the implications of that were. And yet, when Audrey told me, I was as stunned as she was; even with all that knowledge, there is still an inbuilt refusal to accept that someone close to you is approaching the point of death.

I was speechless for a few seconds. A sound came from behind me: Tom closing the boot lid. Then another, a loud click as he locked the car. Then a third, the wheels of our cases as he pushed them in my direction.

‘Tell me,’ I murmured, back in command of my voice.

‘She died during the flight from Charles de Gaulle to Nice. Looking back, she was a bit hazy in the lounge before we boarded, but she said she was just tired from the transatlantic flight. We got on board, Duncan grabbed the window seat, I took the middle and Susie was on the outside. She didn’t mind that; she said it would make it easier for her if she had to go to the toilet.’

She paused; I imagined she was finding it difficult to hold herself together.

‘As it happened, nobody did. It’s a relatively short flight. We took off on time, and we were still climbing when Susie said to me that she was going to try and sleep all the way, so she’d be bright when she met the kids. And she did, she nodded right off.’

‘Did she waken at all?’ By that time Tom had reached me with the cases; he was standing beside me frowning. I took one case from him, and gestured towards the lift; he headed in that direction.

‘I don’t think so,’ Audrey replied. ‘They brought the bar trolley, but I don’t think she was aware of it, not even when the steward reached over us to give Duncan the two bottles of white wine that he’d asked for.’ She sobbed; I said nothing, but let her get it out.

‘We touched down in Nice at nine twenty. It was quite a hard landing; everyone else on the plane was shaken up, but Susie didn’t stir, not at all. At first I thought it was just because she’d been so tired. I didn’t try to waken her until we’d taxied in and were on stand, and then I couldn’t. I tried, very gently at first, then I shook her a little bit harder. It was only when I took my seat belt off and turned round to take a good look at her, I saw … the way her mouth was hanging open … Primavera …’

‘I understand,’ I said gently. Tom was at the lift; the doors were open, but I waved for him to wait, knowing that if I stepped inside I’d lose the signal.

‘I called the flight attendants,’ she continued. ‘They’re all first-aiders, and they could see right away it was serious. They asked if there was a doctor on board and a woman came up from the back of the plane. She had ID that showed she worked in a hospital in Paris. She couldn’t find a pulse, she held a mirror under her nose, and I could see there wasn’t the faintest sign of breath on it. Then she shone a penlight in her eye and said the pupils were completely non-reactive. They had oxygen on board, and those shock pads, but the doctor said she was beyond resuscitation, and she pronounced her dead, at nine twenty-nine local time. The captain was there; he made a note of it, and got her to sign a declaration.’

‘Did she suggest a cause of death?’

‘No. The pilot asked her, but she said she wasn’t prepared to guess, that there’ll have to be an autopsy.’

‘What happened then?’

‘They put a sheet over her, and got everyone off the plane through the back exit. We had to clamber over her, Duncan and I.’

‘How did he react?’ I asked.

‘You know, Primavera, I can’t answer that, not properly. He didn’t burst into floods of tears or anything, put it that way. He was very quiet. That’s until the captain asked me who was the next of kin. I said it was Janet, just automatically, without even thinking, and Duncan shouted, “No, she’s fucking not! I am!” The crew probably just thought he was hysterical, but he wasn’t. He was making a point, if you ask me.’

‘I don’t have to,’ I told her. ‘I can see that. What are you doing now? Where are you?’

‘I’m in the VIP lounge; they’ve asked us to wait here to talk to the ambulance crew that are coming to take Susie’s body to the morgue. They’re going to take her to the hospital in Nice. I want her to go to Monaco, but that might not be possible, a jurisdictional thing, the airport manager says, since she died in France. Duncan’s outside, having a cigarette … to calm his nerves, he said … but I can see him from where I’m sitting. He’s standing in the forecourt and he’s not smoking; he’s on his phone. He switched it on when we got in here, and got a text right away.’

‘I’ll bet,’ I muttered. ‘Audrey,’ I continued, ‘I have to think about all of this, and I have Tom with me. I can’t kid him on about this. I will call you back as soon as we’re through security and I’ve had a chance to talk to him.’

‘You’re still going to catch your flight?’

The thought of not catching it hadn’t even occurred to me. ‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘It’s even more important now that I do. I’ll speak to you again shortly; meantime, hang in there.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Tom asked, as soon as I’d joined him at the lift. We weren’t alone; a fat bloke with a suit bag and a briefcase was waiting beside us, and I didn’t want to be breaking any news in his earshot.

‘Not now, love,’ I said. ‘Be patient, until we’re inside the building.’

He nodded, but his face was set in a look that wasn’t fearful exactly, but told me he wasn’t expecting to be hearing any good news. I’d called Audrey by name and if he’d heard me … He said nothing, though; instead he fussed me through the fast bag drop, which wasn’t, and security, putting his carryon bag and mine on to the X-ray conveyor and reminding me to take off my belt and watch. I set the damn gate off, of course, thanks to the metal button on my bloody trousers, and had to endure a pat-down, no, a feel-up, from a clumsy woman who was so thorough in her search that I asked her if she was enjoying it, for I sure as hell wasn’t. She threatened to call her supervisor. I threatened to call the police. I must have been better at threatening than her, for she backed off.

I was still steaming mad with her by the time I’d reclaimed my stuff, but my son’s presence, and the knowledge of what I was about to tell him, helped me control myself. We went straight to the business class lounge. I’ve known those to be busier than the concourse at some airports, but Barcelona’s was quiet that morning. I checked the board as we walked in, letting Tom show our tickets. Our flight was showing a ten-minute delay; that meant we had more than half an hour to boarding time, enough for what had to be done.

I fetched a soft drink and some biscuits for him and a coffee for me, then steered us to the quietest corner I could see. His patience finally ran out as soon as I sat down.

‘It’s Susie, Mum, isn’t it?’ he said, his face tense.

All I could do was nod.

‘She’s dead. I can tell by your face.’

‘Yes. She died on board the flight to Nice, about an hour ago. It was very sudden, Tom. Audrey said she died in her sleep.’

I’d thought he might shed a tear. After all, for that part of his early childhood when I was away, in various places, and Oz had custody, he’d been brought up by Susie, hence the name by which he always called her. But he didn’t, he sat there stoically and it was I who felt my eyes go moist. Twice in two days, Ice Maiden, I thought. What’s happening?

‘She was very ill, wasn’t she? Janet told me,’ he added, ‘after she’d spoken to her.’

‘Yes, she was. She was very frail, and in her condition, many things could have gone wrong any time. From what Audrey told me, I’d guess she had a brain haemorrhage, and died pretty much instantly.’

‘Was Duncan there?’

‘Yes, apparently so.’

‘What’s going to happen now? Does that mean that Duncan’s going to be Janet and wee Jonathan’s stepfather?’

‘I suppose it does.’

He glared at me. ‘Mum, we can’t let that happen. He’s not a good man. They have to live with us.’

‘Tom,’ I sighed, ‘that’s easier said than achieved. It’s never that simple. Like it or not, Duncan and Susie were married when she died. You’re their half-brother, but I have no relationship to them at all. I suppose I could petition the court.’

‘You could, Mum,’ he insisted. ‘Duncan won’t want two kids. Why shouldn’t he let them live with us?’

‘These are not two ordinary kids,’ I pointed out, ‘any more than you are, given that your father was a famous man, and still is. Christ, there have been as many sightings of Oz Blackstone as there were of Elvis after he died! Tom, you are all wealthy kids and Susie’s will is going to make you even wealthier. If I can speak to you as if you were all grown up, not just two-thirds of the way there, I think Duncan Culshaw is a greedy, grasping son-of-a-bitch, and he’s unlikely to give up control of Janet and Jonathan’s wealth. Understand?’

He nodded. ‘Maybe Uncle Harvey could fix it. He’s a lawyer.’

‘Yes, but he’s not that sort of lawyer any longer. He’s a judge. We couldn’t take a case to him, because he knows us.’

‘Okay, maybe he could get one of his pals to fix it!’

I smiled at his remaining innocence … or was I the innocent, and was he right? Do the courts really work on the old pals principle? It didn’t fucking help me when I was in the dock, that’s for sure.

‘We have to wait and see what happens, but I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to those kids. And nor,’ I reminded him, ‘will Conrad Kent. Speaking of whom,’ I concluded, ‘I must call Audrey again, like I promised I would.’ I picked up my coffee and took a sip, but it was cold, and anyway, I didn’t fancy it any longer.

‘Be a love,’ I asked him. ‘Go and get me a drink. White wine; biggest glass they’ve got.’

He looked at his watch, raised an eyebrow.

‘Hey,’ I exclaimed, ‘gimme a break.’

As he walked over to the self-service bar, I called Audrey back. ‘How are things?’ I asked. A damn silly question, looking back on it; unless Susie had suddenly stopped being dead, ‘things’ were not going to be any better.

‘I’m still in the VIP lounge. They’ve taken Susie’s body away to a hospital in Nice. A police officer came with the ambulance crew. I tried to persuade him to let me take her to Monaco, but no way. I’ve just spoken to the British Embassy in Paris, and told them what’s happened. They’re going to get involved, and send a consular observer to the autopsy. It’s a judicial procedure; the authorities have to satisfy themselves that the death was natural. Once they’ve done that, they’ll release the body.’

‘Who’ll organise the funeral?’

‘Me, if I’m still around. I’ve just had a blazing row with Duncan. He knows about our being appointed to the board. It went public as scheduled; the text that he had must have tipped him off. As soon as he finished that phone call I told you about earlier he came storming in here and started yelling at me, even though I was in the middle of talking to the police officer. What the hell did I think I was playing at, I’d manipulated a dying woman, and it was all that witch Primavera’s doing; nasty, furious, threatening stuff. Eventually the policeman intervened, and told him to have some respect. Duncan didn’t understand him, of course, so he just carried on. He might have been arrested if the airport manager hadn’t intervened and explained who he was, and that he’d just lost his wife. He quietened down after that, and walked out again. I don’t know where he is now. And I don’t know what to do.’

‘That’s obvious, Audrey. You get yourself back to Monaco as fast as you can; it’s essential that you’re there when Conrad gets back with the kids. Have you called him?’

‘Not yet. It’s not easy; the children will be in the car with him.’

Tom appeared at my side with a large glass of yellow-hued wine. ‘Don’t say anything about what’s happened,’ I suggested. ‘Just ask him what time he expects to arrive, and tell him that things have changed with Susie, and that you’re not going to Scotland any more.’

‘But I have to, Primavera; the board meeting.’

‘There will be a quorum without you, trust me. You’re needed in Monaco; things have happened over the last couple of days to make that essential, now that Susie’s gone. Listen,’ I said, ‘Susie’s intention in appointing us to the board was to protect the children’s interests. That was when she was alive, and it’s all the more important now that she isn’t; you have to be with them. I will handle the board meeting on my own, don’t worry.’

‘What about the other things she asked you to do for her? Setting up the trust, her will?’

‘I don’t know. She gave me a very clear written mandate, and her signed authority to implement it. It’s clear that while she accepted Duncan as her husband, she didn’t want him controlling her kids’ inheritance in the event of her death.’

‘Maybe we’ve got him wrong,’ Audrey said. ‘Perhaps he’ll agree to what Susie wanted.’

‘Can you see the sky where you are?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied, puzzled.

‘Are there any pigs up there? Audrey, don’t be naive; all the peaches have fallen off the tree at once and landed in bloody Duncan’s lap. Damn it!’ I snapped. ‘Why the hell did she have to fly so soon? Didn’t she know how fragile she was?’

‘Yes, she did. Her doctor spelled it out for her the last time she saw him. He was okay with the Vegas trip, but told her she should stay in Arizona for another two weeks at least, preferably a month, with her platelet levels being monitored, before even thinking about flying transcontinental. He said her blood chemistry was still too unstable.’

‘Was Duncan aware of that?’

‘Yes, we both sat in on the meeting.’

‘And he let her fly?’

‘Yes, but so did I, Primavera, so did I. I didn’t want her to, but she insisted; she told me that she knew she was going to die soon anyway, and wanted to see her kids before she did. I suggested that we could fly Janet and wee Jonathan out to Arizona, but she said the trip would be too tough for them, since they would know why they were going, or at least Janet would, for sure. Duncan backed her up; he said that if I didn’t book the flights, he would.’

‘God,’ I snapped. ‘You’re making it sound as if he wanted her to die.’ I’d forgotten completely that Tom was sitting alongside me. At the edge of my vision I saw him stiffen in his chair, glanced at him and saw his eyes ablaze with a fury that his wing chun master definitely would not have liked.

‘I’m only telling you how it was,’ she replied. ‘Do you know what her last words were? After she said she was going to sleep on the flight to be alert when she met the kids, she said, “I’m not looking forward to telling them what I’ve done.” Now I’ll have to tell them, unless Duncan gets to them first.’

‘You won’t,’ I said. ‘They know already. And they’re not happy.’

‘In that case, I’ve got to go, now. I’ve just seen, literally a couple of seconds ago, Duncan getting into a taxi, and you can bet he’s heading for Susie’s. The swine’s even left me to take care of the baggage.’

‘Then get off your mark and call me later, in Glasgow.’

I ended the call. ‘What did you mean?’ Tom asked, immediately. ‘About him wanting Susie Mum to die?’

‘Nothing. Forget I said it. I was angry, like you’re always telling me not to be.’

‘If Dad was alive, he’d be angry,’ he countered.

‘If your dad was alive, Duncan wouldn’t be there, would he?’

I sighed, feeling suddenly tired myself. I thought of Susie on her last flight and had a moment of panic. What if I wasn’t here either? None of us know the moment when it will end.

I needed comfort. I called Liam.

‘Hey,’ he said, cheerily. ‘Are you not on board yet?’

I told him what had happened, and put an end to his happy morning. ‘Oh shit,’ he murmured. ‘That’s terrible. I am so sorry. Those poor kids.’

‘Yup.’

‘What are you going to do? Go to Monaco or come back here?’

‘Neither. Audrey’s staying at home, but I still have to go to Glasgow; there will be a board meeting in the morning and I will be in the chair, as Susie wanted it.’

‘How’s that going to go down?’

‘With the bereaved widower? Spectacularly badly. With the rest of the board? I have no idea. But I have to do it.’

‘Wish I could help,’ he murmured.

‘You just did. Be there when I get back, okay?’

He chuckled. ‘I will, I will, honest.’

I ended the call and went to check the flight status. It showed ‘Boarding’. We didn’t rush to get there, as we were fast-track category, and by the time we did, most of the passengers were in place. I let Tom have the window place. He shoved his man-bag under the seat in front, once he’d retrieved his iPad (a Christmas present from Grandpa Mac; Janet had the same) and the Bose in-ear phones he’d had from me, and held them in his lap, obedient to the regulations, until we were in the air and the seat-belt sign was off, when he disappeared into a combination of Beyoncé and a Spanish e-novel called The Sun over Breda, one of the adventures of Arturo Pérez-Reverte’s swashbuckling swordsman, Captain Alatriste.

He didn’t say much during the flight, even declining the meal, and I left him to his thoughts. He’d been introduced to death far too young to understand it fully … ‘Who does?’ you might ask … and I wondered whether the latest encounter would make him revisit the first.

Once we touched down in Heathrow, however, he was his usual self. Just as well, for I didn’t need any hassle. I’m one of those people who will take any alternative to flying through Heathrow, particularly when I have to change terminals, and my pawing in Barcelona had made me even less enthusiastic as I approached the transfer process. But we got lucky. The bus left as soon as we stepped on and our business class status speeded us through security. The lounge was packed, in complete contrast to the other one, so busy that we went for a Starbuck’s instead, and a sandwich, since Tom had decided that finally he was hungry. Looking back, the journey and its complexities formed a bubble around us both, one that isolated us from the awful thing that had happened earlier. It would come back to haunt us later, I knew, but at that moment, the presence of so much bustling life around us kept the dead at bay.

The London-Edinburgh leg was more crowded, and with only a single class of travel in that flight, less comfortable. We were in the third row, seats A and B. C was already occupied when we arrived, by a guy who looked as if he’d been a rugby prop forward in his youth, and had put on a lot of weight since. Tom gave him one glance and pushed me towards the window seat.

We arrived on time, and amazingly, so did our luggage. We wheeled it to the Hertz desk … quite a long wheel in Edinburgh these days, and soon we were on our way. It had been a while since I was last in Glasgow, so I was grateful for the satnav that Audrey had specified when she’d booked the car. It’s not that I don’t know how to find the city, but road systems change all the time, and in some it’s possible to see your destination without being able to get anywhere near it, if you don’t know exactly how. I needn’t have worried, though; West George Street still ran in the same direction as it had the last time I was there. We came off the M8 and more or less drove straight to the door.

I let the door crew take care of the luggage and of parking the car, and led Tom through the imposing entrance into the foyer of a building that had once been an episcopal church.

There have been times in my life, very few of them, when I’ve refused to believe the evidence of my own eyes. That was one of them. There was a guy standing beside reception, and for a moment I thought it was Liam, but I dismissed the silly notion and marched on without giving him a second glance, until Tom exclaimed, ‘Hey, how did you get here? You were in St Martí when we were at Barcelona Airport.’

‘That is true, buddy,’ he conceded, ‘but what’s the point of being a GWA superhero if you don’t exercise your superpowers from time to time?’

I stared at him, still in denial. ‘But …’ was all I could say, and then he smiled and I more or less melted into him. ‘But,’ I sighed, ‘I am so fucking glad you’re here. I don’t know why, for I am a forceful and independent woman … “My Way” could have been written for me … but I am. Now, how the hell did you manage it?’

‘You can thank my ex,’ he said, as I released him from my grasp. ‘After you called, I was sitting there worrying about you two. I reckoned a little back-up wouldn’t do any harm even if I couldn’t get to you till tomorrow. So I went online and saw there was a flight from Girona to Prestwick, today, with a couple of hours to departure. It was showing “Full” but I took a wild chance and phoned Erin. Miracle of miracles, her husband was the pilot; she called him and he got me a jump seat. I made it to the airport just in time. Honest, I’ll never say another bad word about the guy, or about his airline.’

‘When did you get here?’

‘About two minutes ago. I was just in the process of booking myself a room when you walked through the door.’

‘You don’t need to do that,’ Tom volunteered. ‘We’ve got a room spare, now that Audrey isn’t coming.’

That was true, but it wasn’t how I wanted things to work out. I looked at Liam. ‘Wait there and do nothing,’ I ordered.

I took my son across to the window to the right of the door. ‘It’s big boy time,’ I said. ‘How would you feel if Liam and I shared a room?’

‘Would it be forever?’ he asked.

‘I have no idea. But he’s a good man, I like him and I want to be with him just now. Could you handle that?’

He looked up at me, but only up by a couple of inches. ‘In my English class,’ he began, ‘we’ve been doing a poem called “The Lady of Shallot”. Do you know it?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. I love it. It’s how our language is supposed to be. Do you like it?’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Because when I read the words, they make me think of you, and that’s sad. Dad’s dead, Mum, he’s not coming back, and it’s time you had a loyal knight and true, not just a pageboy like me. I don’t want you to wind up like the Lady did.’

Profound? All parents think we know our kids, and what their capabilities are, but mostly we’re wrong. Our expectations are usually over the top, or we take the gloomy view, that they’ll get by and that’ll be enough. I’ve always tried to expect nothing of Tom, other than decency, honesty and integrity, and he’s shown me every one of those. But when he said that to me, I was plain flat out astonished.

‘How long have you thought that way?’ I asked.

‘For a while now. I want you to be happy. I wouldn’t want you to be with a culo like Duncan Culshaw, but you’re too sensible ever to pick anyone like him. I like Liam, so if you want to live en pareja with him, I won’t mind.’

‘I’ll still be your best pal, you know,’ I said.

‘You’ll still be my mum and that’s the important thing.’

I gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and then returned to reception, where I did a deal. Two minutes later, Liam and I had what they called a Rock ’n’ Roll suite, for a reason that still escapes me, and Tom had a room along the corridor. It had just gone six thirty; I booked a table in the brasserie for half past eight and told Tom that we’d knock on his door on the way down.

You probably imagine that we put those two hours to good use. You’d be quite right, but you may continue to imagine the details, for I’m not planning to describe them. There was a moment when it did seem a little weird to be in bed with a man on the day that a long-standing friend had died, but it didn’t take me longer than another moment to realise that if our roles in the day’s drama had been reversed, Susie would have done exactly the same thing.

The only things I will say are that it was good, and that having a man’s seed sown deep inside me … don’t worry, I was nowhere near ovulation, although I made a mental note to go back on the pill for as long as I needed it … put my Barcelona bunny friend in its proper perspective. I made a mental note to attend the next Estartit car boot sale and slip it into someone’s car, in a box labelled ‘Ten euro’ when they weren’t looking. I had the very lady in mind for the nice surprise.

We didn’t talk much, Liam and I, not for a while at any rate, not until we were soaping each other in the suite’s enormous shower … you could have fitted the whole Rock ’n’ Roll band in there. ‘Tom okay?’ he asked me, finally.

‘Tom is fine. He sees you as Lancelot … and I want no lewd cracks about that name,’ I added, as I explained what he’d said about Tennyson’s poem.

‘Bloody hell!’ Liam exclaimed. ‘I assume he takes his sensitivity from his mother’s side of the family, for it was never evident in his old man, not that I could see.’ As he spoke, he felt his nose, checking that it was intact.

I smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, he does. My mother was an author, and my dad, whom I plan for you to meet later this week, is a craftsman, in wood. That’s if you’re willing, of course. I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved with families yet.’

‘Given the disaster that mine was?’

‘No! I didn’t mean that at all. The thought never occurred to me. We’ve only known each other … or been reacquainted … for three days. This could be just a fling for both of us. I’m not naive; I understand that. Christ, man, we live on different continents.’

‘One day at a time, sweet Jesus,’ he sang softly, in a rather nice tenor voice. ‘Primavera, my love,’ I smiled, a little coyly no doubt, at his use of the ‘L’ word, ‘I can’t wait to meet your old man. You’re forgetting, he’s the only member of your family I haven’t met yet, given that I’ve worked for your brother-in-law a couple of times, and met your sister in the process.’

‘In that case, prepare yourself for a gentle interrogation in Auchterarder, and for being taken to the pub. My father’s not a big boozer, but he does like an occasional pint of Guinness … don’t worry, though, he won’t force it on you.’

We stepped out of the shower and towelled ourselves dry, then I shooed him from the bathroom. ‘I’ve got to do my hair and put my face on,’ I told him. ‘For that I need space and privacy.’ I checked the time. ‘Go on, get dressed, we’re running late.’

I was also running on empty. I’d had a long, eventful, and inevitably tiring day. I needed refuelling, for I had to prepare for the board meeting next morning and that would mean another early start. It took me less than five minutes to make myself reasonably presentable; my hair is never a problem and I restricted myself to what I call a half face, that being more make-up than I usually wear but not the full works.

I was in the Rock ’n’ Roll bedroom of our Rock ’n’ Roll suite, dressing for dinner, when the phone rang. Liam … why are men always ready first? … picked it up.

‘Yes?’ The inevitable pause. ‘No, reception was correct,’ he continued. ‘This is Primavera’s room. Hold on a second, and I’ll pass you across to her.’

I stepped round the bed and took the handset from him. ‘Woman,’ he mouthed silently.

‘Hi,’ I began, as he read my mind and moved behind me to finish the job of fastening my bra. ‘Primavera.’

‘Who the hell was that?’ Audrey gasped. ‘And don’t tell me it was Tom. I know his voice is changing, but that one belongs to somebody else.’

‘Ask Conrad,’ I told her. ‘He’ll be able to work it out. Or ask Janet; so will she.’

‘I will, don’t worry. Whoever he is, he sounds, mmm, interesting.’

‘You got that right,’ I agreed. ‘How are the children?’

‘As you’d expect,’ she replied. ‘They were both stunned when we told them. Wee Jonathan’s in pieces. I’ve left Janet to look after him. She’s done her crying, for now at least, and she’s in control of herself.’

‘What about Duncan?’

‘Not a problem, as yet. He tried to … let’s say, assert himself as the new head of the house before they arrived, when it was just the two of us there and the housekeeper. “I’m the children’s daddy now,” he said. We had a bit of a confrontation; I told him that might be so, but they barely knew him, and that if he ever wanted to have any sort of a relationship with either of them it shouldn’t begin by him telling them their mother was dead, and that he had to leave that to me. I’d already sent Conrad a text, letting him know what had happened. Duncan got the message. He was there when they arrived, but backed off as soon as he’d said hello … or tried to. Wee Jonathan spat at him as soon as he saw him. Now he’s staying away from them. To be honest, Primavera, I don’t believe he’s interested in them. He’s been on the phone for half the day, but I don’t know to whom.’

‘Uncle Phil?’ I suggested.

‘That’s a real possibility. I had a call from him a few hours ago. He said that he’d been advised by the company secretary of my appointment to the board and asked if I’d be at the meeting tomorrow. I told him that, in the circumstances, I couldn’t attend. Then he said, “In those same circumstances, we should cancel it, shouldn’t we?” I replied that that would need the approval of the chair. He asked how he could contact you, and I told him you were in transit, bound for Edinburgh. I lied a little; I said you probably wouldn’t be contactable this evening. Mind you, maybe it wasn’t a porky after all, given who answered the phone.’

‘Whatever,’ I said, ‘you did the right thing. Does Phil Culshaw know I’m here?’

‘Yes. He asked for the name of the hotel and I couldn’t not tell him. But I said that you probably wouldn’t be there until the evening.’

‘Even at that,’ I pointed out, ‘it’s nearly half past eight. I’d have thought he’d have called by now.’

‘Will you cancel the meeting if he asks?’

‘No way. This is a listed company, and we must give the impression of business as usual. I have to get my arse firmly planted in that chair, right away.’

‘But who’ll control it, Primavera, who’ll really control it?’

‘That’s the question. You go and look after those kids and leave me to work that out. I’ll keep you informed of what’s happening here. Bye.’

I hung up, frowning as I pulled my top over my head … carefully, not disturbing my hair.

‘How are they?’ Liam asked, quietly, from the bedroom doorway.

‘Bereft,’ was the only word I could find to reply as I moved to join him. ‘It makes me shudder, to think of what they must be feeling right now. Tom too, to an extent; he and Susie were close. She was his stepmother, remember.’

‘Of course.’ He took my hand, and I leaned against him for a couple of seconds, enjoying the sheer, long-forgotten luxury of having someone with whom I could do that.

‘Okay, Lance,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and knock on his door. He must be hungry and I am thirsty. In fact I feel like getting pissed, an option that a single mother has very rarely; so please, honey, make sure I don’t.’

‘That’ll be easy. Drink the same as Tom and me, and you’ll be fine.’

I smiled as I remembered our first dinner together, forty-eight hours before, when I’d somehow got, or felt, half cut on sparkling water, as my protective barriers began to collapse. ‘I should be wearing the Versace, shouldn’t I?’ I chuckled.

‘Yeah, you should. You’d have had to pack one fewer flimsy if you’d brought it.’

I gazed at him. ‘You knew I wasn’t wearing any?’ I exclaimed. ‘Is it cut so low you could see my minge?’

‘Not quite, but it is tight. When we went into the restaurant and I was walking behind you, well, let’s just say there was something in the way you moved.’

‘Oh no! Then most of the people in the square that night … and all the women, trust me … will know that Primavera was out with a man, sin bragas.’

‘Si,’ he agreed. ‘Y por qué no?’

‘You speak Spanish?’ I gasped.

‘Solo pocito. But as a global-travelling single man you’d expect me to know the word for knickers, surely.’