Fox Evil

27

Bella, magnificent in purple, shepherded her three daughters through the front door and stuck out a hand toward James. "Ta, mister," she said. "I've told 'em all to keep their fingers to themselves so you won't get no trouble." She flicked a sideways glance at Ivo. "That's right, ain't it, Ivo?"

"Shut your mouth, Bella."

She ignored him. "Mr. Barker tells me you've got Wolfie," she went on, squeezing James's fingers like sausages. "How's he doing?"

Overwhelmed, James patted her hand. "He's fine, my dear. At the moment we can't prize him away from my granddaughter. They're upstairs in one of the bedrooms. I believe she's reading him Aesop's Fables."

"Poor little bleeder. He's got this thing about cops… took off like a fucking rocket when Mr. Barker asked him questions. I kept telling him not to be worried, but it didn't do no good. Can I see him? Him and me are friends. Might make him feel better if he knows I ain't abandoned him."

James looked to his solicitor for rescue. "What do you think, Mark? Will Wolfie swap Nancy for Bella? It might persuade Nancy to go to hospital."

But Mark was under assault from the threadbare Alsatians that were sniffing around his trouser legs. "Perhaps we could put them in the scullery," he suggested.

"They'll bark nonstop," Zadie warned. "They don't like being away from the kids. Here," she said giving the leads to one of her sons. "Watch they don't lift their legs anywhere, and keep 'em off the sofas. And you," she said, cuffing another son around the back of his head, "don't go breaking things."

Martin Barker, coming in behind her, suppressed a smile. "This is very good of you, sir," he told James. "I'm leaving Sean Wyatt in charge. If everyone stays in the same room, it'll be easier to keep track."

"Where do you suggest?"

"The kitchen?"

James looked at the sea of faces. "But the children look so tired. Wouldn't it be better to put them to bed? We have enough rooms in all conscience."

Martin Barker looked at Mark, tilted his chin toward the pieces of silver on a Chippendale table by the door, and gave a small shake of his head. "The kitchen, James," Mark said firmly. "There's food in the freezer. Let's eat first and see how things go, eh? I don't know about anyone else, but I'm starving. How's Vera on the cooking front?"

"Terrible."

"I'll do it," said Bella, pushing her girls between Ivo and the Chippendale table as his fingers strayed toward a cigarette case. "My friend here can peel the potatoes." She gripped James firmly by the arm and drew him along with her. "What's wrong with Nancy then? Did that fucker Fox hurt her?"

Wolfie pinched Nancy frantically as Vera Dawson peered through the gap in the door. "She's back… she's back," he whispered into her ear.

Nancy broke off from "Androcles and the Lion" with a whistle of pain. "Hoo-oosh!" She was sitting in an armchair in Mark's bedroom with Wolfie on her lap and, every time the child moved her rib moved with him, setting off sympathetic tremors in her right arm. She'd had a vain hope that if she read to him, he'd fall asleep, but the old woman wouldn't leave them alone, and Wolfie wriggled in panic every time he saw her.

Nancy assumed it was Mrs. Dawson's mumbling and muttering that frightened him, otherwise it was a bizarre reaction to someone he didn't know. His alarm was so powerful that she could feel him trembling. She eased him on her lap, and frowned at the old woman. What on earth was the silly old thing's problem? Nancy had asked her several times to go downstairs, but she seemed drawn to stare at them as if they were freaks in the circus, and Nancy was beginning to feel the same aversion toward her as the child did.

"She won't hurt you," she whispered in Wolfie's ear. "She's old, that's all."

But he shook his head and clung to her in desperation.

Mystified, Nancy abandoned courtesy and issued an order. "Shut the door and go away, Mrs. Dawson," she said sharply. "If you don't, I'll phone Mr. Ankerton and tell him you're annoying us."

The old woman came into the room. "There's no telephone in here, miss."

Oh, for God's sake! "Let go for a moment," she told Wolfie. "I need to get at my mobile." She felt in her fleece pocket, breathing shallowly as Wolfie pressed against her. "Okay, back as we were. Do you know how to work one of these? Good man. The code to unlock it is 5378. Now scroll through the numbers till you come to Mark Ankerton then press call and hold it to my mouth."

She raised a booted foot as Vera came within striking range. "I'm perfectly serious about wanting you to leave, Mrs. Dawson. You're frightening the child. Please do not come any closer."

"You won't hit an old woman. It's only Bob hits old women."

"I don't need to hit you, Mrs. Dawson, I only need to push you over. I don't particularly want to, but I will if you force me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Vera kept her distance. "I'm not stupid," she muttered. "I've still got my marbles."

"It's ringing," said Wolfie, pressing the mobile to Nancy's mouth.

She heard it click through to voicemail. Jesus wept! Did the bastard ever answer his sodding phone? Ah, well! "Mark!" she said peremptorily. "Get your arse up here, mate. Mrs. Dawson's frightening Wolfie, and I can't get her to go away." She bared her teeth at the old woman. "Yes, by force if necessary. She seems to be caught in a mental loop that makes her forget she's supposed to be downstairs with you and James. I'll tell her now." She switched off. "Colonel Lockyer-Fox wants you in the drawing room immediately, Mrs. Dawson. Mr. Ankerton says he's angry that you're not there already."

The old woman tittered. "He's always angry… got a bad temper has the Colonel. Just like my Bob. But don't you worry, they all get their comeuppance in the end." She moved to the bedside table and picked up a book that Mark was reading. "Do you like Mr. Ankerton, miss?"

Nancy lowered her foot, but didn't answer.

"You shouldn't. He's stolen your mother's money… your uncle's, too. And all because your grandma was so taken with him… fawned all over him every time he came to the house… called him Mandrake and flirted with him like a silly little girl. She'd have left it all to him if she hadn't died."

It was a fluent piece of speech and Nancy wondered how demented she really was. "That's nonsense, Mrs. Dawson. Mrs. Lockyer-Fox changed her will months before she died, and the main beneficiary was her husband. It was in the newspapers."

Contradiction seemed to upset her. She looked lost for a moment, as if something she relied on had been knocked away. "I know what I know."

"Then you don't know very much. Now, will you please leave this room?"

"You can't tell me what to do. This isn't your house." She dropped the book onto the bed. "You're like the Colonel and the missus… Do this… do that. You're a servant, Vera. Don't go poking your nose in where it isn't wanted. I've been a drudge and a slave all my life-" she stamped her foot-"not for much longer, though, not if my boy has his way. Is that why you've come? To take the house from your ma and your uncle Leo?"

Nancy wondered who "her boy" was and how she'd guessed who Nancy was when James had made a point of introducing her only as a friend of Mark's. "You're confusing me with someone else, Mrs. Dawson. My mother lives in Herefordshire and I don't have an uncle. The only reason I'm here is because I'm a friend of Mr. Ankerton's."

The woman wagged a gnarled finger. "I know who you are. I was here when you were born. You're Lizzie's little bastard."

It was an echo of what Fox had called her, and Nancy felt the flesh creep on the back of her neck. "We're going downstairs," she told Wolfie abruptly. "Hop off, and give me a tug out of the chair. Okay?"

He shifted slightly as if he were going to do it, but Vera scuttled toward the door, slamming it closed, and he shrank back against Nancy again. "He's not yours to take," she hissed. "Be a good girl, now, and give him to his gran. His daddy's waiting for him."

Oh Christ! She felt Wolfie's arms slide around her neck in a strangulation hold. "It's okay, sweetheart," she told him urgently. "Trust me, Wolfie. I said I'd look after you and I will… but you must give me room to breathe." She took a lungful of air as his arms relaxed and raised her boot again. "Don't tempt me, Mrs. Dawson. I'll kick the shit out of you the minute you come within range. Do you have enough marbles left to understand that, you senile old bitch?"

"You're like the missus. Think you can say what you like to poor old Vera."

Nancy lowered her foot again and exerted all her strength to move forward in the chair. "Poor old Vera, my arse," she snapped. "What did you do to Wolfie? Why is he so frightened of you?"

'Taught him some manners when he was a little'un." A strange little smile hovered on her lips. "He had pretty little brown curls then, just like his daddy."

"I didn't! I didn't!" cried Wolfie hysterically, clinging to Nancy. "I ain't never had brown hair. My mum said I'se always like this."

Vera's mouth started working furiously. "Don't you disobey your gran. You do as you're told. Vera knows what's what. Vera's still got her marbles."

"She ain't my gran," Wolfie whispered urgently to Nancy. "I ain't never seen her before… I'se only scared of nasty people… 'n' she's nasty 'coz her smiley lines are upside down."

Nancy examined the old woman's face. Wolfie was right, she thought in surprise. Every line turned downward, as if resentment had dragged trenches in the skin. "It's okay," she soothed, "I'm not going to let her take you." She raised her voice. "You're very confused, Mrs. Dawson. This isn't your grandson."

The old woman smacked her lips. "I know what's what."

No, you don't, you stupid bitch… you're round the fucking twist… "Then tell me your grandson's name. Tell me your son's name."

It was computer overload. "You're just like her… but I have rights… though you wouldn't think it the way I'm treated. Do this… do that… Who cares about poor old Vera except her darling boy? You put your feet up, Ma, he says. I'll see you right." She pointed an angry finger at Nancy. "But look what precious Lizzie did. She was a whore and a thief… and everything forgiven and forgotten because she was a Lockyer-Fox. What about Vera's baby? Was he forgiven? No." She turned her hands into fists and smacked them impotently against each other. "What about Vera? Was she forgiven? Oh, no! Bob had to know Vera was a thief. Is that right?"

Even if Nancy had known what she was talking about, she recognized that there was nothing to be gained by agreeing. Far better to keep her off balance by taunting her than show an ounce of sympathy for her problems, whatever they were. At least while she talked, she was keeping her distance. "You really are senile," she said contemptuously. "Why should a thief be forgiven? You should be in prison along with your murderous son-assuming Fox is your son, which I doubt, as you can't even give me his name."

"He didn't murder her," she hissed, "never touched her. Didn't need to when she brought it on herself with her vicious tongue… accusing me of ruining her daughter. More like her daughter ruined my boy… that's nearer the truth… taking him to bed and making him think she cared. Lizzie was the whore, everyone knew that… but it was Vera was treated like one."

Nancy ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. "I am the complex product of my circumstances… not the predictable, linear result of an accidental coupling twenty-eight years ago." Dear God! How absurdly arrogant that statement seemed now. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly, steeling herself to make another move forward.

"Oh, yes, you do." A sly intelligence gleamed in the old eyes. "It frightens you, doesn't it? It frightened the missus. It's one thing to go looking for Lizzie's little bastard… not so much fun to find Fox's. That wouldn't do at all. She tried to push past me to tell the Colonel… but my boy wouldn't have it. You go inside, Ma, he said, and leave her to me." She patted her pocket and set some keys jangling. "That's what stopped her heart. I saw it in her face. She didn't think Vera would lock her out. Oh, no! Not when she'd shown Vera so much kindness.

Bella was unimpressed by the level of cleanliness in James's house. "What's wrong with his cleaner, then?" she asked as Mark took her into the scullery to show her the chest freezer. She stared with disgust at the filth in the sink and the cobwebs all over the windows. "Gawd, will you look at this? It's a miracle the poor old bloke isn't in hospital with tetanus and food poisoning. If I was him, I'd give her the sack."

"Me, too," Mark agreed, "but it's not that easy. There's no one else to do it, unfortunately. Shenstead's effectively a ghost village with most of the properties let out as holiday homes."

"Yeah, Fox told us." She lifted the lid of the freezer and snorted at the layers of frost on the food. "When was this last opened?"

"Apart from when I checked it on Christmas Eve, not since the Colonel's wife died in March, I wouldn't think. Vera wouldn't go near it. She was lazy enough when Ailsa was alive, but she doesn't do a blind bloody thing these days… just takes her wages and runs."

Bella pulled a face. "You mean she gets paid to leave things in this state?" she asked incredulously. "Shit! Talk about money for old rope."

"And gets a rent-free cottage."

Bella was astonished. "You gotta be joking. I'd give my right arm for a deal like that… and I wouldn't take advantage of it, neither."

Mark smiled at her expression. "In fairness, she probably oughtn't to be working at all. She's virtually senile, poor old thing. But you're right, she does take advantage. The trouble is James has been very-" he sought for a suitable word-"depressed these last few weeks so he hasn't been keeping an eye on her… or anything else for that matter." His mobile started to ring. "Excuse me," he said, retrieving it from his pocket and frowning at the number displayed. He raised the handset to his mouth. "What do you want, Leo?" he asked coolly.

Every doubt nancy had ever had about discovering her biological history screamed for the old woman to be quiet, but she refused to give Vera the satisfaction of saying it aloud. Had she been alone, she would have denied any relationship with Fox or his mother, but she was conscious that Wolfie was listening to every word being said. She had no idea how much he understood, but she couldn't bring herself to deny a relationship with him.

"What did you do it for?" she asked the old woman. "Money? Were you blackmailing Ailsa?"

Vera gave a grunt of laughter. "Why not? The missus could afford it. It was such a little amount to keep quiet about your daddy. She said she'd rather die, silly woman." She seemed to wander suddenly. "Everyone dies. Bob'll die. My boy gets angry when people annoy him. Not Vera, though. Vera does what she's told… do this… do that… Is that right?"

Nancy didn't say anything because she didn't know what to say. Was it better to sympathize? Or was it better to tie the old woman's brain in knots by arguing? She wanted to believe that Vera was so confused that nothing she said was true, but she had a terrible fear that the pieces relating to her were accurate. Hadn't she feared it all her life? Wasn't that why she had closed her mind to her heritage? It was truly said that "what the heart didn't know, it couldn't grieve over."

"The missus called my boy 'vermin,'" the old woman went on, her lips smacking ferociously, "so he showed her what happens to real vermin. She didn't like that… one of her foxes with its brains on the ground… said it was cruel."

Nancy screwed her eyes in pain as she inched forward. She had to keep her talking… "It was cruel," she said flatly. "It was even crueler to kill Henry. What did a poor old dog ever do to your rotten son?"

"It wasn't my boy did that. It was the other one."

Nancy took a breath, her nerve endings protesting at every movement. "What other one?"

"Never you mind. Common as muck, sniffing around petticoats. Vera's seen it… Vera sees everything. You get out the house, Ma, says my boy, and let me do the talking. But I saw him… and the flighty little piece he had in tow. She was always a problem… made her parents' life hell with her flirting and her whoring."

Elizabeth…? "Stop blaming other people," she said sharply. "Blame yourself and your boy."

"He's a good boy."

"Bullshit!" she spat. "He kills people."

More lip smacking. "He didn't want to," Vera whined. 'The missus brought it on herself. What's more cruel than giving money to save foxes, and refusing to help him. It wasn't enough to put him out of his house, she wanted him sent to jail as well." She smacked her fists together again. "It was her own fault."

"No, it wasn't," countered Nancy angrily. "It was your fault."

Vera cowered against the wall. "I didn't do it. It was the cold." Her voice went into a croon. "Vera saw her… all white and frozen with next to nothing on and her mouth open. She'd have been so ashamed. She was a proud lady. Never told anyone about Lizzie and my boy… never told the Colonel, He'd have been very angry. Got a bad temper has the Colonel."

Nancy shifted forward another inch. "Then he'll carve you into little pieces when I tell him you helped your son kill his wife," she snarled through gritted teeth.

Vera tapped in agony at her mouth. "He's a good boy. You put your feet up, Ma, he says. You've been a drudge and a slave all your life. What's Bob ever done for you? What's the Colonel ever done for you? What did the missus ever do except take the baby away because you weren't good enough?" Her mouth writhed. "He'd have gone away if she'd given him what he asked."

Wolfie seemed to grasp suddenly that Nancy was trying to work her way to the edge of the seat because he wedged his elbows onto the chair arm behind him and took his weight off her lap. "Of course he wouldn't have gone away," she said loudly, to keep Vera's attention. "He'd have gone on bleeding Ailsa till there was nothing left. Thieving and killing're all he knows, Mrs. Dawson."

"She didn't bleed," Vera countered triumphantly. "My boy was cleverer than that. Only the fox bled."

"Then there's a nice symmetry to this whole wretched story because it isn't my blood on this jacket, it's your darling boy's. So if you know where he is-and if you care for him at all-you should be persuading him to go to hospital instead of gibbering like a senile ape."

Vera's mouth puckered into uncontrollable movement again. "Don't you call me an ape… I've got rights. You're all the same. Do this… do that… Vera's been a drudge and a slave all her life-" she tapped the side of her head-"but Vera knows what's what… Vera's still got her marbles."

Nancy reached the edge of the seat. "No, you haven't."

The blunt contradiction was too much for the old woman's fragile hold on reality. "You're just like her," she spat. "Making judgments… telling Vera she's senile. But he is my boy. Do you think I don't know my own baby when I see him?"

"Okay, Mark, this is the deal. Take it or leave it. Lizzie and I will get Dad off the hook as long as he agrees to reinstate the previous will. We don't have a problem with everything going to Lizzie's kid in the long run but, in the short term, we want-"

"No deal," said Mark, breaking in as he moved into the corridor.

"It's not your decision to make."

"Right. So phone your father on the landline and put the offer to him. If you give me five minutes I'll make sure he answers."

"He won't listen to me."

"Congratulations!" Mark muttered sardonically. "That's the second time you've got something right in under a minute."

"Christ! You really are a patronizing bastard. Do you want our cooperation, or not?"

Mark stared at the corridor wall. "I don't view a demand for reinstatement as cooperation, Leo, and neither will your father. Nor am I prepared to test him on it because you and Lizzie will be dead in the water from the moment I open my mouth." He stroked his jaw. "Here's why. Your niece-Lizzie's daughter-has been in this house since ten o'clock this morning. Your father would give her the entire estate tomorrow if she'd agree to accept it… but she won't. She has an Oxford degree, she's a captain in the army, and she's due to inherit her family's two-thousand-acre farm in Herefordshire. The reason she's here is because your father wrote to her in a moment of depression, and she cared enough to follow it up. She expects nothing from him… wants nothing from him. She came with no ulterior motive except to be kind… and your father's besotted with her as a result."

"And showing it, I suppose," the other man said with a trace of bitterness. "So how would she be doing if he was treating her like a criminal? Not so well, I'll bet. It's easy to be nice to the old man when he treats you like royalty… bloody hard when you get the bum's rush."

Mark might have said, "You brought it on yourself," but he didn't. "Have you ever thought he might feel the same? Someone has to call a truce."

"Have you told him that?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"A little help in the present situation would go a long way."

"Why does it always have to be me who makes the first move?" There was a muted laugh at the other end. "Do you know why he called me the other day? To rant about my thieving. I got the whole catalogue from the time I was seventeen to the present day. And from that he deduced that I killed my mother in anger, then embarked on a campaign of vilification to blackmail him into handing over the estate. There's no forgiveness in my father's nature. He took a view of my character while I was still at home, and he refuses to change it." Another laugh. "I came to the conclusion long ago that I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb."

"You could try surprising him," suggested Mark.

"You mean like the squeaky-clean granddaughter? Are you sure you've found the right girl? She doesn't sound like any Lockyer-Fox I've ever met."

"Your father thinks she's a cross between your grandmother and your mother."

"Point made then. They were only Lockyer-Foxes by marriage. Is she pretty? Does she look like Lizzie?"

"No. Tall and dark-more like you as a matter of fact, but with brown eyes. You should be grateful for that. If she had blue eyes I might have believed Becky."

Another laugh. "And if it had been anyone but Becky who'd said it, I might have let you… just for the amusement factor. She's a jealous little bitch… had it in for Lizzie from the start. I blame you, as a matter of fact. You made Becky think she was important. Bad mistake. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. It's the only way if you don't want to ruin them for the next man that comes along."

"I'm not into revolving doors, Leo. I'd rather have a wife and kids."

There was a brief hesitation. "Then you'd better forget anything you learned at school, my friend. It's a myth that blue-eyed parents can't produce brown-eyed children. Ma was an expert on genetic throwbacks. It made her feel better about herself to blame her children's addictions and her father's alcoholism on some distant ancestor who belonged to the Hellfire Club." Another pause to see if Mark would bite, and when he didn't: "Don't worry. I can guarantee that Lizzie's baby was nothing to do with me. Apart from anything else, I never fancied her enough to sleep with her… not after she started going with riffraff, anyway."

This time Mark did bite. "What riffraff?"

"Irish tinkers that Peter Squires brought in to mend his fences. He had them camping in a field over one summer. It was pretty funny, actually. Ma made a tit of herself by taking the children's education in hand, then went ballistic when she discovered Lizzie was being shafted by one of them."

"When was this?"

"What's it worth?"

"Nothing. I'll ask your father."

"He won't know. He was away at the time… and Ma never told him. The whole thing was kept very hush-hush in case the neighbors found out. Even I didn't know till later. I was in France for four weeks, and by the time I got back Ma had put Lizzie under lock and key. It was a mistake. She should have let it run its natural course."

"Why?"

"First love," said Leo cynically. "No one was ever as good again. It was the beginning of the slippery slope for my poor sister."

Nancy put all her effort into her thigh muscles and, with an unsteady lurch, rose to her feet with Wolfie sitting on her left hip. It would take a feather to knock her down again, but she prayed the old woman wouldn't realize that. "Move away from the door, please, Mrs. Dawson. Wolfie and I are going downstairs now."

Vera shook her head. "Fox wants his boy."

"No."

Negatives disturbed her. She began smacking her fists together again. "He belongs to Fox."

"No," said Nancy even more forcefully. "If Fox ever had any rights as a parent, he forfeited them when he took Wolfie from his mother. Parenthood isn't about ownership, it's about duty of care, and Fox has failed to show this child any care at all. You, too, Mrs. Dawson. Where were you when Wolfie and his mother needed help?

Wolfie pressed his lips to her ear. "Cub, too," he whispered urgently. "Don't forget li'l Cub."

She had no idea who or what Cub was, but she didn't want to take her attention from Vera. "Cub, too," she repeated. "Where were you for little Cub, Mrs. Dawson?"

But Vera didn't seem to know who Cub was either and, like Prue Weldon, fell back on what she knew. "He's a good boy. You put your feet up, Ma, he says. What's Bob ever done for you except treat you like a skivvy? He'll get his comeuppance, don't you worry."

Nancy frowned. "Does that mean Fox isn't Bob's son?"

The old woman's confusion intensified. "He's my boy."

Nancy gave the half-smile that was so reminiscent of James's. It would have been a warning to the old woman if she'd been capable of interpreting it. "So people were right to call you a whore?"

"It's Lizzie was the whore," she hissed. "She lay with other men."

"Good," said Nancy, hoisting Wolfie higher on her hip. "Because I couldn't give a damn how many men she slept with-just so long as Fox isn't my father… and you aren't my grandmother. Now, will you move… because there is no way I am going to allow a murdering old bitch to take Wolfie from me. You aren't fit to look after anything, let alone a child."

Vera almost danced with frustration. "You're so high and mighty… just like her. She's the one took babies away. All puffed up with her good works… making out she knew more than Vera did. You're not a suitable mother, she said. I can't allow it. Is that fair? Doesn't Vera have rights, too?" Up came the finger. "Do this… do that… Who cares about Vera's feelings?"

It was like listening to a stylus jump tracks on a worn record to produce unrelated bursts of sound. The theme was recognizable but the pieces lacked cohesion and continuity. Who was she talking about now? Nancy wondered. Ailsa? Had Ailsa made a decision about Vera's fitness as a mother? It seemed unlikely-on whose authority could she do it?-but it might explain Vera's bizarre remark about "knowing her baby when she saw it."

Perhaps Vera saw the indecision in her face because the gnarled finger jabbed in her direction again. "See," she said jubilantly. "I said it wasn't right, but she wouldn't listen. It won't work, she said, better to give it to strangers. So much heartache… and all for nothing when she had to go looking for it in the end."

"If you're talking about me," Nancy said coldly, "then Ailsa was right. You're the last person in the world anyone should give a baby to. Look at the damage you did to your own child." She started to walk forward. "Are you going to move or will I have to make you?"

Tears welled in Vera's eyes. "It wasn't my fault. It was Bob's fault. He told them to get rid of it. I wasn't even allowed to see it."

But Nancy wasn't interested. Telling Wolfie to turn the handle, she backed into the old woman, forcing her aside, and with a sigh of relief hooked the door open with her foot and hurried into the corridor.

Leo's voice took on an amused drawl. "When Dad got back, about two or three months later, he discovered his mother's rings had been nicked, along with bits of silver from the various display cabinets on the ground floor. Everything else had been shifted around to fill the gaps, so Ma didn't notice, of course-she was far too interested in her charity work-but Dad did. Spotted it within twenty-four hours of walking through the door. That's how acquisitive he is." He paused to see if Mark would rise to the barb this time. "Well, you know the rest. He lammed into poor old Vera like there was no tomorrow… and Ma never said a word."

"About what?"

"Lizzie's shenanigans."

"What did they have to do with it?"

"Who do you think stole the flaming stuff?"

"I thought you owned up to it."

"I did," Leo said with a grunt of laughter. "Bad mistake."

"Who, then? The boyfriend?"

"Christ, no! I wouldn't have taken the blame for him. No, it was Lizzie. She came to me, shaking like a leaf, and told me what had been going on. Her bloke persuaded her he'd marry her if she could get some money together to elope to Gretna Green. Silly cow. She was a pathetic romantic. Got comprehensively screwed by a waster… and still looks back on him as the best thing that ever happened to her."

Mark took to staring at the wall again. Which was the lie? That Leo had stolen from his father… or that he hadn't? He could feel the tug of the man's charm again, but he wasn't so gullible these days. The single thing he could be sure of was that Leo was playing a gamble. "Did Vera know about it?"

"Of course she did. She was part of the problem. She adored the toerag because he took the trouble to soften her up. He was a bit of a charmer, by all accounts. Vera told lies for Lizzie so Ma wouldn't know what was going on."

"Why didn't she say something when your father accused her of stealing?"

"She would have done if she'd been given time. That's why Lizzie came howling to me."

"Then why did your mother believe you? She must have guessed that Lizzie had something to do with it."

"It made life easier for her. Dad would have given her hell for letting Lizzie run out of control. In any case, I'm a convincing liar. I told her I'd blown the lot in a casino in Deauville. She had no trouble believing that."

Probably because it was true, thought Mark cynically. Or partially true. Ailsa had always said that what Leo did, Lizzie did six months later. Nevertheless… "Will Lizzie vouch for you if I tell your father this?"

"Yes. So will Vera if she hasn't gone completely doolally."

"Is Lizzie with you? Can I speak to her?"

"No, on both counts. I can ask her to ring you if you like."

"Where is she?"

"Not your business. If she wants you to know, she'll tell you herself."

Mark placed a palm against the wall and looked at the floor. Pick a side… "It might be better not to mention that her daughter's here. I don't want her thinking she's going to meet the girl." He heard Leo's indrawn breath. "And before you blame your father for that, it's the girl herself who's not interested. She has a brilliant adoptive family, and she doesn't want her life complicated with the emotional baggage of a second. Also-and this is strictly between you and me-Lizzie is the one who will be hurt. There's no way she can measure up… either to the daughter or the daughter's adoptive mother."

"It sounds as if Dad isn't the only one who's besotted," said Leo sarcastically. "Is this your way into the family fortune, Mark? Marry the heiress and scoop the jackpot? A bit old-fashioned, isn't it?"

Mark bared his teeth into the receiver. "It's time you stopped judging the rest of us by your own standards. We're not all middle-aged pricks with self-esteem problems who think their fathers owe them a living."

The grin came back into the other man's voice to have finally got a rise. "There's nothing wrong with my self-esteem."

"Good. Then I'll give you the name of a friend of mine who's a specialist in male fertility problems."

"Fuck you!" said Leo angrily, hanging up.