by Edie Baylis
Jonah stepped away and moved to the drinks cabinet. ‘Why have you been interfering at the club, Lena?’ he asked bluntly, pouring himself a large whisky.
‘Interfering?’ Lena tried not to let her eyes narrow in rage. This was that fucking old bag, Gwen. She’d half-expected her to go running to Jonah about something sooner or later. ‘I-I didn’t int...’
‘You sacked two of the girls. That’s not your call and I won’t have it.’
Lena sidled up behind Jonah and wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘You need someone who knows what they’re doing running that place, Jonah. I...’
‘Don’t tell me what I need at my own club!’ Jonah unwrapped Lena’s arms and turned to face her. ‘Things aren’t working out for me. I think we should knock whatever we’ve got together on the head now.’
Lena’s mouth dropped open. What the fuck? ‘You’re dumping me because of something that I happened to do at the club. Something I thought would be helpful?’ she wailed, willing the tears to flow on tap. He couldn’t dump her. No, no, NO! She wasn’t having this. Not now. Not now she was so close. Far too close for this to happen.
She rushed over to Jonah, clinging on to his shirt, her lips searching for his. ‘Please don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would upset you. I...’
Jonah untangled himself once more from Lena’s grasp. He didn’t want this. Any of it. ‘It’s not just that,’ he said, his eyes cold. ‘It’s you. I want my house back to myself. I want my life back to myself too. I’m not ready for this kind of relationship.’
Lena blinked rapidly, desperately trying to work out how to play this. She had to do something quick.
Melodramatically throwing herself face down on the sofa, ignoring her bright pink lipstick had smeared all over one of the matching cream cushions, she let out a howl of what she hoped sounded genuine anguish.
Jonah raked his fingers through his hair, irritation rising rapidly. ‘Oh, stop the histrionics. This is what I mean. This sort of shit – I don’t want it. You’re fun, Lena – a good shag and all and we’ve had a good crack, but things are going in the wrong direction now - a direction I don’t want to go.’
Missing her stolen glance as he walked past to refill his whisky, Lena knew she had to use the trump card. Although part of the plan at some stage, she’d been planning to pull it out of the hat under less extenuating circumstances.
‘Don’t worry about cash. I’ll sort it so you get a nice flat of your own,’ Jonah continued, the weight off his shoulders already considerably lightened. ‘As a temporary measure, take one of my flats in town until you can find one you really want. You can even have your job back on the stage if you wish.’
‘I don’t want to go back on the stage. I can’t! Oh God...’ Lena cried, her sobbing becoming louder.
Jonah’s nerves jangled from the high-pitched wailing. He could only be nice for so long. ‘Shut up!’ he barked. ‘Just get out of my life, will you? I’ve had enough.’
Lena sat up slowly. She’d been acting most of her life and wouldn’t let herself down now. Not when the catch of the century was within her grasp.
‘I don’t want to get out of your life,’ Lena sobbed in her best bereft voice, the tears now coming nicely on cue.
Jonah sighed. He’d throw her out with his bare hands in a minute if she kept on. She wouldn’t get a flat now either. He’d had enough. ‘I want you out of my life, Lena. I’m done.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Lena whimpered.
‘Yes it is.’ Jonah pointed to Lena and then to the door. ‘See? It’s not difficult. Now, off you fuck.’
‘I-I’m pregnant...’ Lena whispered. Not exactly how she’d planned to deliver this whammy, but needs must.
Ringing clamoured inside Jonah’s ears, along with a high-pitched buzzing sound. Whisky slopped from his glass down the front of his trousers. ‘You’re what?’ he managed to force from his throat.
‘I-I’m pregnant,’ she repeated. ‘I only found out myself for definite this afternoon.’ She stared up at him beseechingly. She’d got him – she could see it clear as day. ‘I’ve suspected for a few weeks now... That’s why I’ve been so tired...’
A big fat tear rolled down Lena’s face, making another track of black mascara to match the others. ‘I wanted to surprise you when you got home... I waited up... I had no idea you were planning to dump me...’
‘Pregnant?’ Jonah repeated again, the death knell tolling loudly in the back of his mind.
Lena began sobbing louder, her body scrunched into a ball, visibly shaking. With legs like concrete, Jonah forced himself to perch on the edge of the sofa and pull her into his arms.
He’d been stupid. Really stupid.
And now he was completely trapped. Fuck.
Nine
‘FOR FUCK’S SAKE, THIS IS RIDICULOUS!’ Nero muttered, his temper frayed. Eighteen miles they’d tailed Helen Shepherd since leaving the office, but where on earth was she going? Siberia?
‘I think we can safely say she isn’t going to her mother’s. The old dear wouldn’t live this far out in the bloody sticks, would she?’ Keith said, opening his third Mars bar since they’d left Maidenhead. ‘Where the hell are we?’
‘Fuck knows,’ Nero spat, frowning as a van pulled out of a side road in front of them, blocking the Mercedes from sight. There were temporary traffic lights up ahead and if Helen Shepherd got through those and then they changed to red because of this fucking van, he’d personally throttle the fat bastard driving it. Furthermore, he wished Keith would shut up – his bloody gob constantly going on wasn’t helping. He had no clue where they were either, but it certainly did seem unlikely the mother would live this far out of town. Although it wasn’t impossible being as she’d spent the last four decades in hiding. Not that they’d caught up with her. She may as well have lived next door to one of them.
His jaw clenched. If he’d trailed this silly tart all this way purely to see her daintily sipping from a glass of wine with some pin-striped mincers again he’d go bloody mad.
Glad to get through the temporary traffic lights, Nero was relieved to see the Mercedes at the brow of the hill five motors ahead. At least he hadn’t lost her – that would have been the icing on the cake.
‘Maybe she lives out this way herself?’ Keith craned his neck as they passed a partly hidden road sign pointing to a village. ‘That said, ‘Little Freith’.’
Nero scowled. He didn’t care what it said. He was getting sick of this. Suddenly seeing the Mercedes indicate to turn left, he pulled back and waved the car behind him past. ‘She’s turning in somewhere.’
Slowly moving up to the entrance the Mercedes had taken, Nero saw a large, almost stately building set back up a long driveway behind the hedge.
‘Jesus wept! Don’t tell me she lives here?’ Keith gasped. ‘The place is fucking massive!’
Nero squinted at a plaque partially obscured by surrounding bushes. ‘I doubt it. It’s one of those private old-folks’ homes by the looks of that sign. Maybe the mother lives here after all.’ And if that was the case then they stood absolutely zilch chance of getting the stuff back.
‘Bloody hell,’ Keith said. ‘It’s right posh. All the old folks’ homes round our neck of the woods look like derelict prisons, not National Trust gaffs.’
Nero slowly steered the car up the driveway. There were enough other cars parked outside the large building not to draw attention to them. He pulled into a space far enough away from the building so that Helen Shepherd would not notice them, but close enough for them to see her walking towards a man standing in the car park.
‘Who’s that?’ Keith asked as Helen approached the man, kissed him on the cheek and then walked through the ornate entrance of the building. ‘That her husband?’
Nero shot Keith daggers, hating people asking questions that they knew full well no one knew the answers to. Husband or not, they’d wait here until Helen Shepherd came out. At least they’d got a good eyeball on
the man. He might be someone they could use. And there was a good chance Dulcie Adams was a resident here, so in the interim he’d be using this waiting time to find out.
HELEN SMILED WIDELY at Ken Manning, knowing he had been eyeing her backside for the last hour whilst she’d inspected the apartment. Inheriting her mother’s build and physique meant by maintaining short, but regular sessions at the gym everything was as firm and toned as it could be and she knew she still looked good.
Ken was the perfect choice regarding this proposition. Knowing him since college, she knew he’d be open to the proposal and also that he’d fall for her acting skills. There was no way she was telling him the dire position Shepherd, Percival and Proctor was in. Or rather, she was in.
‘What do you think?’ Ken said, pleased to see that Helen Adams or should he say, Shepherd, seemed impressed.
Helen turned to give Ken her full attention. ‘I think it’s perfect!’ She glanced around once more, making sure her expression was appraising. ‘It’s in a great location and has all the support facilities required.’
Her gaze remained on Ken for just that little bit too long which she knew would work in her favour. ‘I really do appreciate you giving me the chance of first refusal of this.’ She lowered her eyes and sniffed sadly. ‘It’s been difficult reaching this decision, but it will be the best thing for mother.’ Yeah, yeah.
Ken felt he knew Helen well enough to offer a comforting touch of her arm. The poor woman was heartbroken – anyone could see that. ‘You know I’ll always be there for you, Helen,’ he said, his hand lingering. ‘We go back a long way, remember?’
Helen smiled sweetly. She could barely remember the couple of times they’d ended up in bed together all those years ago. It had hardly been anything to write home about, but she knew he’d always held a torch for her.
She patted down her hair. ‘Oh Ken, things have been so difficult. I really am distraught. This place will be ideal though, so that’s something.’ Turning away, she made a point of dabbing at her bone-dry eyes.
‘I’m just sorry this particular site isn’t closer to where you live.’
‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ Helen exclaimed. She wasn’t sorry it was so far away. The further away, the better. ‘Mother’s state of mind has deteriorated so much she doesn’t want to be anywhere near the house anymore. She can’t bear the memories, yet acts like my father’s death was yesterday... and oh...’ She turned away once more. ‘The worst thing is she’s begun making things up about her life. She’s so deluded in what actually happened, but believes her own stories. And Robert, well, Robert hasn’t taken it well at all. He... he gets angry and I think he blames me for wanting to do something to help her.’
‘What?’ Ken cried, anger forming. ‘Why would he do that?’
Helen squeezed her eyes shut in the hope that she could possibly force a tear out. ‘He doesn’t want to accept that this is happening. I... I only want what’s best for our mother and then we’ve, or rather, I have got all the worries with the house to deal with.’ She paused dramatically. ‘I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but I found out that Robert... he’s been taking advantage.’
Ken frowned. ‘Advantage?’
Helen looked at Ken, her eyes soulful. ‘Unbeknown to me, Robert persuaded mother to cash in the equity on the house.’ She lowered her voice even though there was no one else around. ‘He’s got a gambling problem.’ Oh, all of this made things sound so tragic. She’d done well thinking up this particular vein of the story.
‘I had no idea! I’m so sorry,’ Ken exclaimed.
Helen shook her head sadly. ‘I’ve bailed him out several times myself over the last ten years. The whole thing with my brother’s finances has put a dreadful amount of pressure on my marriage over the years and this latest thing... well, I’m not sure if my marriage will survive. I need to sell mother’s house at the best possible price to cover all the debts, whilst leaving enough left over to buy this place, plus money for her care, of course.’
Ken’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘Now, don’t you worry about that. I’m sure I can secure you a knock down price on this place.’ He ran his hand through his thinning hair. ‘Robert has a lot to answer for. I feel like giving him a piece of my mind!’
‘Oh no, you mustn’t!’ Helen grabbed Ken’s arm, knowing that would bolster him further. ‘He’s still my brother.’
‘You’re a good woman, Helen. You leave this to me. I’ll speak to the developer and get this sorted for you. He owes me a favour anyway.’
Helen stared at Ken wide-eyed. ‘You’d really do that for me? I don’t want to put you out.’ Ken, you’re as much of a sucker as I always remembered you were.
‘What are friends for? You also know I’m happy to broker the sale of your mother’s house,’ Ken winked. ‘I’ll personally make sure you get the best price. It goes without saying I won’t take any commission.’
Helen smiled gratefully, placing her hand just that little bit too long on Ken’s suit jacket lapel. ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.’
Ken puffed his chest out proudly. ‘Just leave everything to me.’
Helen walked down the manicured path to her Mercedes. It had gone promisingly well with Ken, apart from having to act overly bloody nice. That alone left a bad taste. Still, that was a trifling inconvenience compared to what it would bring when this pulled off.
Her usually unlined forehead creased. The one thing risking throwing her plans into disarray was that idiotic Teagan girl. Damn and blast her mother for taking it upon herself to arrange a bloody live-in home help. The worst timing ever. Still, the girl wasn’t the brightest and she’d swallowed everything so far, which was something and if she was as pliable as she seemed, then her presence might even work favourably.
But now she’d have to pop and see her mother on the way back, just to maintain the public belief that she was a caring and loving daughter.
And then she’d go home and sort her stuff in the garage before James got back.
Ten
JONAH AWOKE GRADUALLY, his consciousness slowly seeping to the ‘on’ setting, helped by the feel of a hand sliding down his stomach. The fingers brushed tantalisingly over his rigid erection, then moved down to cup his balls.
The extent of his arousal was almost painful in its intensity and desire all but overtook the banging headache in his temples. God, he must have had sunk far too many last night for a headache like this - he very rarely got plastered.
As the hand began working him mercilessly, he groaned with need.
Wait... Shit!
Freezing as the rapid recall of the previous night hit him, Jonah’s eyes flashed open, daylight searing the back of his eyeballs.
‘Glad to see you still find me as attractive as ever,’ Lena purred, her face perfectly made up – a massive contrast to last night.
‘What’s the time?’ Jonah mumbled for want of nothing else to say, dread sitting like a lead weight at the base of his stomach.
‘Almost 11,’ Lena smiled, her body naked, her large breasts resplendent. Her hand wrapped back around Jonah’s quickly deflating length. ‘I thought I’d let you sleep. You seemed to need it.’
‘Eleven o’clock?’ Jonah jumped out of bed, his head pounding. ‘Christ! I should be at the club! Fuck!’
Lena watched Jonah pull fresh underwear from the chest of drawers. ‘You remember what you said last night, don’t you? You haven’t changed your mind?’
Jonah glanced at her, his tongue threatening to choke him rather than utter what he knew he must. ‘No, I haven’t. Now, I need to get showered and out. I’ll see you later.’
Shutting the door of the en-suite bathroom and flicking the light on, Jonah for once in his life, locked the door and leant up against it, breathing heavily.
He staggered over to the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His bleary eyes stared back at him accusingly. Grabbing his toothbrush, he began brushing his teeth, scrub
bing hard to rid his mouth of the rancid taste of stale whisky.
Yep, Lena was pregnant; he remembered all of it. No wonder he’d got drunk. But maybe if he hadn’t got quite so drunk he could have talked some sense into himself before he’d made things even worse.
Even through his alcohol-hazed memory, he could still picture Lena’s red, tear-stained face, her eyes wide with panic. ‘You are going to marry me now, aren’t you, Jonah?’, she’d sobbed.
And what could he say, apart from agree.
Jonah gagged in the sink, the toothpaste burning his mouth. What had he done? What the fuck had he done?
Opening the shower cubicle he stepped inside, closing his eyes as the powerful jets of hot water covered him. If only he could wash all of this away.
Oh he’d been so close to getting his house and life back, but he could hardly do that now. Despite being a hard and violent man, he hadn’t been brought up to mistreat a woman. His father had instilled in him since day dot the importance of family values and would turn in his grave if his son were to chuck out a pregnant woman. The woman he had now agreed to marry... The woman he would now have to marry because he wouldn’t have any child of his being born a bastard.
Jonah sighed with resignation as he grabbed the shower gel. He’d just have to get on with it and make the best of it. Somehow.
But the rest of the world didn’t stop turning and right now he needed to get his arse up to the club. Nero and Keith were out on a reccy and he wanted to be there the minute they had an update. He hoped to fuck it would be good news because he sure as hell needed some.
WHILST THEY’D BEEN WAITING, Nero called up the number on the sign outside the posh old folk’s gaff.
Putting on his best voice he thought he’d done a stunning job of impersonating Dulcie Adams’ doctor, even though Keith had been a prick by laughing in the background.
Most insistent, Nero had demanded to speak to the on-duty nurse, going to great pains insisting it was imperative to give an update about test results requiring an alteration to medication dosage. He’d impressed himself using ‘imperative’ in the correct way.
