The Cinderella Plan

by Abi Silver

  ‘Did you ask Peter, find out if he erased the data? Is that what Juan was telling you?’ he said.

  ‘I can’t really discuss it with you, Toby, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I thought of something else, something that means it must have been Peter. I can see it now. But I never did then.’ Toby rubbed his hand across his face and gazed blankly back at the house. ‘He seemed so friendly. I never believed he would do something like this. He told me he wanted to help James, help SEDA, said if only I would persuade James to do what he wanted, SEDA would be on the list and selling its cars by the end of October.’

  ‘He was playing on your loyalty to James.’

  Toby smiled. He was pleased Constance understood.

  ‘Have you met Martine?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘James’ wife? Yes. Why?’

  ‘Of course you have. I’m just so messed up by all this. She and I…at least I think, oh God. If you’re his lawyer, do you have to tell him everything I say?’ He stumbled towards a bench and sat down, breathing heavily. Constance followed him. The cold was rapidly chilling her bones.

  ‘I’m not James’ lawyer any more,’ she said. ‘He just invited us here to say thank you. But if you tell me something about a crime having been committed, I would have to report it to the police, like anyone would.’ As she spoke, she feared she was almost certainly going to stem Toby’s flow, but she couldn’t allow him to think that any secrets were safe with her.

  Toby took a deep breath.

  ‘I don’t care if you do tell,’ he said, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Not any more. It’s eating me up, keeping it inside. I would have said sooner, it’s just…I told Peter something when we met.’

  ‘You met Peter?’

  ‘Just for coffee.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘It was a silly idea. I never thought he would do anything about it.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him about this plan. I didn’t mean it as something real to happen. It was just an idea.’

  Constance waited. Judith had taught her about the power of silence, if used appropriately. And, after a few seconds she was rewarded.

  ‘It was an idea I had,’ Toby continued, ‘that maybe if there was a road accident, a big pile-up and a SEDA car was involved but it didn’t hit anything – then the people in the SEDA car would go on the News and tell everyone how all the others had a crash, but their SEDA car had saved them. It would be great publicity.’

  ‘And you mentioned this idea to Peter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘Nothing at the time, but two weeks later, bang! James has the crash.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? We’ve been through the investigation and the trial.’

  Toby looked back towards the house and his eyes eventually focused on Martine, who was laughing raucously with Juan and some other men, in the centre of the lounge.

  ‘I didn’t believe any of it was linked, until we were standing in James’ office today and Juan said that someone had messed with the EDR, and we know Peter had the EDR. He gave it to Juan. I couldn’t say it then. I couldn’t tell James. I thought he would be so…disappointed in me. It’s bad enough that I had to tell him I met Peter in secret.’

  Constance’s eyes also flicked across to Juan and Martine before returning to Toby. Juan had one arm tightly around Martine’s waist, before she disentangled herself and grabbed the arm of another companion.

  ‘How well do you know Juan?’ she said.

  ‘We live together…housemates.’

  ‘But he’s not been with SEDA long?’

  ‘No. But, look. It’s not Juan. Why would he tell us about the data being deleted if he was the one who did it?’

  ‘Maybe it’s only a matter of time before someone else works it out. Far better to get in first.’

  ‘No!’ Toby shook his head violently. ‘I told Peter about the plan. It must be Peter. Somehow, I don’t know how, Peter made the accident happen, and then he had to delete the data to cover up whatever he did.’

  Martine had left the gathering and Juan was now standing very close to Carol, and they were drinking their drinks with their arms linked around each other. At least half of Carol’s drink sloshed over the edge of her glass and she giggled flirtatiously and sucked at her fingers.

  ‘I heard from Carol, your receptionist, that Juan is working on other secret projects,’ Constance said.

  ‘Not that secret. I mean, I know about them too,’ Toby pouted.

  At that moment a couple exited the front door of the house and began to argue in the driveway. Their words were mostly drowned out by the music and the crunching of their feet on the gravel, but it was clear that the man was demanding something and the woman was refusing. As their gesticulating became wilder, Constance concentrated more on them.

  ‘Is that Peter?’ she peered through the darkness.

  ‘Yes. Looks a bit cross, doesn’t he?’

  Peter shouted some parting comment, marched off up the drive and climbed into his car. The woman turned around and Constance saw her face for the first time, as she folded her arms around her body and dabbed at her eyes. Then, with a change of heart, she twisted around again and began to run up the drive after the departing vehicle, now positioned by the gates, waiting for a break in the traffic. On another day, in less vertiginous heels, she might have made it. This time, she was a metre short of the bumper when Peter sped out of the drive and into the night.

  ‘And that’s his wife?’ Constance asked.

  ‘Fiona. I think she’s a friend of Martine’s.’

  ‘That might be awkward,’ Constance muttered, ‘or perhaps not. I need to go and find Judith,’ she told Toby. ‘Listen. Don’t say anything to anyone else about the plan and the crash. Not till I’ve had a chance to think about it a bit more.’

  Toby slumped over the arm of the bench, but he managed an appreciative smile.

  ‘I won’t,’ he replied.

  Constance stood up. She felt that she was inching her way towards the truth, but she still had some way to go.

  ‘There’s something else,’ Toby said, suddenly pensive, and then his mobile phone rang. He ferreted around in his pocket, holding one finger up to indicate to Constance she should wait. Then he laughed out loud as he pressed the phone to his ear. ‘Dad!’ he shouted, and this time he succeeded in sitting up straight. ‘Just wait one second. Don’t go anywhere!’ He muted his phone and covered the screen with his hand.

  ‘I’m sure it can wait. You take your call,’ Constance said.

  ‘You asked me about the name, the project. Why it was called Cinderella,’ Toby insisted on one more confession. ‘James didn’t understand. He thought it was just a name, but that’s stupid. The one about the cars talking is called Connect and the one about them being made stronger is called Hercules. But Cinderella? It wasn’t called that at the beginning. It’s the name I gave it. I wanted him to understand why I called it that, why I gave it the name of a story about a poor motherless child, who was never allowed to show what she could do, who was always put down and made to sweep the floors.

  ‘My mother used to read me that story and tell me it was an example of never giving up, of persevering and achieving the big prize in the end, even if you were small and unimportant and overlooked. It was a really clever name for the project! But James didn’t even ask. He just said “Very good Toby, put it in my diary,” and that’s what I did.’

  ***

  Constance ran inside and through the lounge to the kitchen, where she located Judith talking earnestly to Juan.

  ‘Toby isn’t feeling so well,’ Constance said pointedly.

  ‘I told him to stick to the beer,’ Juan laughed.

  ‘He’s at the far end of the garden,’ Con
stance persisted, ‘and I think he might need some help getting back to civilisation, and quickly, before he gets hypothermia.’

  ‘All right,’ Juan handed his glass to Constance. ‘I’ll save him. It won’t be the first time, but don’t disappear again, either of you. We’ve still got loads to talk about.’

  ***

  ‘What is it? You look excited,’ Judith said, as Constance dragged her into the hallway and then to a quiet spot at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Fiona Mears is here.’

  ‘Peter’s wife?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I suppose that fits. James says they used to go out a lot together, the two couples; corporate hospitality. He would host them, theatre, concerts. He was just complaining to me how he always paid. Where is Fiona now?’

  ‘She just had a big row with Peter in the garden – massive. He left and she stayed. She’s still outside somewhere, cooling off.’

  ‘She got all dressed up and wanted to stay for the cake.’

  ‘Actually, she changed her mind and wanted to leave, but he had already driven off. Oh what’s he doing here?’

  Dean McQueen had appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a black shirt and black jeans, with an iridescent dinner jacket. He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the room.

  ‘Who is that?’ Judith asked.

  ‘That, is Dean McQueen. You remember?’

  ‘Oh yes. I remember. He’s scrubbed up quite nicely. Do you think he’s working tonight, or on the guest list? He’s clearly looking for someone.’

  ‘Should I introduce you?’

  ‘No.’ Judith caught Constance’s arm and pulled her back, so they were out of his line of vision. ‘Or at least, not yet. He looks like a man with a mission and we don’t want it being aborted because we’re here.’

  Dean sidled over to the corner of the room and drained a drink from one of the trays. He nodded to a couple of guests, then began tapping at his phone, before hurrying out again.

  ‘Ah, there she is!’

  As Dean left, Fiona floated in and Constance nudged Judith.

  ‘Fiona Mears?’ Judith said. ‘So she and Martine are friends. So what?’

  ‘I think it’s more than that,’ Constance whispered. ‘Toby says Peter deleted data from the EDR.’

  ‘James thinks that too, but I’m not sure. He’s looking for answers when they may simply not exist.’

  ‘And he thinks Peter planned James’ accident.’

  Judith shook her head. ‘Oh dear,’ she said.

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘He’s just spouting what James said.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He says he told Peter about a plan for a crash, and then it happened.’

  Judith flung a quick glance in Fiona’s direction. She was tucking her hair behind her ear and listening earnestly to another guest. ‘So, what has this all got to do with his wife?’ she said.

  ‘Maybe she’s the link. Peter couldn’t get information from Toby, so he used Fiona to get it from Martine instead.’

  ***

  Constance and Judith had just agreed to mingle with the guests and re-group later, when they became aware of a loud, high-pitched screeching noise, coming from outside. It happened to coincide with a lull in the music, and everyone rushed over to the window, the braver souls streaming out into the garden to see what on earth was going on.

  Toby was lying on the ground in the driveway, in front of the house, hands over his ears, screaming loudly. His shirt was untucked and one of his shoes had fallen off. Juan was nowhere to be seen.

  Dean was bending low over Toby, admonishing him in colourful language. When he saw that an audience had assembled, he straightened up, pointed an accusatory finger at Toby, shouted, ‘You’re the one who doesn’t know how to behave, posh boy wanker!’ before getting into his van and driving off at speed.

  Constance tapped Judith’s arm. James was standing at the window of his study, watching the altercation, a solemn expression etched across his face.

  78

  FIONA SAUNTERED into the kitchen and pilfered a sausage from the top of the tray, as a waitress hurried past. Martine turned around and greeted her with a kiss on each cheek.

  ‘So pleased you’re here. I wanted to come over, but I kept having to talk to other people. You know how it is when you’re the hostess,’ Martine said.

  ‘You must be pleased with how it’s all worked out,’ Fiona said, helping herself also to a new drink. ‘Everyone wants a piece of James; he’s the man of the moment.’

  ‘Is that how it looks? I’m just so relieved. It’s been a terrible nightmare,’ Martine said. ‘And it’s been so hard for James. It’s changed him.’

  Martine had James in her line of vision, out in the hallway and, as if on cue, he turned around and raised his orange juice to the two women. Martine smiled in return and blew him a kiss. Fiona threw her head back and snorted.

  ‘I have to hand it to you,’ she said. ‘You play the part to perfection. Peter was right that I should have used you in one of my commercials. You’d have been fantastic.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The devoted wife. It’s all a pretence. I saw you and Juan earlier. I was at the end of the driveway. You were in the bushes.’

  ‘Oh.’ Martine poured herself a drink and fiddled with her waistband. ‘It wasn’t how it looked,’ she said. ‘Just a kiss, and then I reminded him I was married – and to his boss. He’s drunk and he got the wrong idea. I said “maybe people do this in Cancún but not in Hadley Wood”.’ She forced a laugh but Fiona refused to share it. ‘Oh come on, Fi. We’ve all done it. A stray kiss now and again at a party. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  Fiona looked again in James’ direction, but he was now talking animatedly to some of his guests.

  ‘I know I said I didn’t care about Peter, when I told you all the things he said about James, that he was a fossil and he had to be removed,’ Fiona used the cocktail stick from her sausage to prod at an array of debris on the draining board. ‘I always thought James was a very proper, honest person, and that he didn’t deserve to be backstabbed like that. I told you that.’ Fiona’s voice was steadily increasing in volume, ‘But that was before I realised you would fuck things up quite so royally for Peter. He’s lost his job, you know.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I think I feel too sorry for him to leave him now.’ She snapped the cocktail stick in half.

  ‘Why do you think I had anything to do with Peter losing his job?’

  ‘Oh don’t!’ Fiona refilled her glass from another. ‘OK. Once James had his accident, it was always going to be damage limitation for Peter. But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to get your own back, big-time. Someone’s been spreading rumours about him. They told him when they sacked him. Saying he was trying to steal secrets, mentioning names at SEDA. I told you about that in confidence.’

  ‘You told me your husband was a shit and you wanted to leave him.’

  ‘We were going through a rough patch. A real friend might have encouraged me to stick with it; you kept inviting me over and telling me to ditch him. Is that what you were planning to do, if James went to jail?’

  ‘I supported James when he needed me. You’re the one who gave your husband’s secrets away – things he told you in confidence, because you were his wife and he trusted you. What will everyone think if they find out that’s what you did? So my advice to you, and I’ve been dying for the last year to give you some advice, while I had to sit here night after night and listen to you dishing it out, is to keep your memories of what you told me to yourself, and your fingers crossed that your now-unemployed husband can get himself a new job that will help keep up the mortgage payments and your children’s school fees.’

  The light clinking sound of metal on glass attract
ed Martine’s attention. She peered out into the corridor to see James was standing at the far side of the lounge, tapping his favourite pen against his glass.

  ‘I must go. James is going to say something.’

  Fiona caught her arm.

  ‘Does he know, James, about all your other male…friends?’ she asked.

  ‘James and Imogen, Toby’s mum, were very close,’ Martine said, ‘and if I asked around, I know I would find at least one “Vera” in each of his frequent overseas destinations. He isn’t the saint you would like him to be.’ She finished her drink and placed it down next to Fiona’s. ‘I make James happy when he’s here,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t ask questions. I don’t either.’ She disentangled herself from Fiona’s grip. ‘Excuse me, I’m going to be with my husband. And I think it’s probably time you went to find yours.’

  As Martine hurried out, Judith shrank back further into the shadow of the open door, behind which she had been concealing herself. And as Martine raised her glass with all the others, and chanted ‘to James’ and ‘to SEDA’ and everyone cheered, she pressed her glass against her lips, without drinking and pondered everything she had seen and heard.

  ***

  Judith and Constance sat in the back of their taxi as it sped through the quiet streets towards central London.

  ‘Well, I think that evening delivered even more than it promised,’ Judith was reflecting on the night’s events.

  ‘Did you manage to speak to Fiona in the end?’ Constance asked, leaning heavily on the central armrest. She had consumed more alcohol than she had intended, after months of lonely restraint.

  ‘No. She left while James was making his speech.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘I did, however, overhear a conversation between Fiona and Martine, which suggested that Martine might have a reason for her amorous encounters with other men.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She thinks James had an affair with Imogen Walsh and with someone called Vera; hence the name for his talking computer.’