Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels

by Downing, Sara

  ‘No, I’m sorry, but Miss Simmonds is out of the office at the moment. Can I help at all?’ replied the young-sounding female voice.

  ‘Are you her assistant?’ Grace said. ‘I do actually need to speak to Miss Simmonds. Can you give me an idea of when she’ll be back?’ She had bargained on Sophie not being there, and not having to speak to her on the phone. After all, if her son was sick, she would be off work and at his bedside, wouldn’t she?

  ‘Oh, she’s just popped out for lunch, she should be back by two,’ replied the voice. So, not off work then. First surprise.

  ‘That’s great, thank you,’ said Grace. Then, pushing her luck a little further: ‘I suppose she’s missed rather a lot of time lately, what with one thing and another?’

  The girl sounded surprised. ‘Um, er, no, not as far as I know. Sorry, madam, what did you say your name was? Would you like to leave a message for Sophie?’ She was starting to sound a little insistent.

  ‘Oh, no, it’s OK, thank you, I’ll call back another time.’ She hung up quickly before the girl could grill her any further.

  Grace sat down on the bed and smiled to herself. Phew, she’d survived the first call. She wondered how private investigators coped with all the adrenalin pumping through their veins; her heart was pounding and her hands were still shaking. Pretending to be someone you weren’t was hard work. She hadn’t scripted the call, it had been impossible to, as she had no idea who would answer the phone, or even if Sophie would. But she hadn’t, and that poor girl had unwittingly helped reinforce the idea in Grace’s head that Sophie was lying. Surely with a child that sick, you would be by their side, wouldn’t you? Not still at work – and quite clearly in work most of the time, if not all of it. Sophie was lying, Grace was quite sure of it now. She wouldn’t mind betting there wasn’t even a son at all, let alone a sick one. All that, from just one tiny phone call. Just call me Miss Marple, she thought to herself.

  Feeling full of bravado, she fancied her chances at another call. Tom was safely ensconced by the pool with Lily and Jack, and wouldn’t be coming in to surprise her any time soon. There was no doubt he wouldn’t approve. The coast was clear, so she took a deep breath and dialled Sophie’s mobile number.

  ‘Hello?’ Sophie answered the call, even though Grace had made doubly sure her number was withheld. Grace’s heart was pounding again. She hoped it wasn’t audible on the other end of the line.

  ‘Hello, Madam,’ Grace began, sounding braver than she actually felt. ‘This is Polly Porter, calling from the Medical Care Company.’ She found herself adopting a posher than normal voice, in an attempt to disguise her own, not that Sophie would have known her voice, anyway. It was the sort of voice this Polly Porter (where on earth did that name spring from?) would have been proud of. Lovely round vowels, and well-articulated consonants. Polly couldn’t possibly speak with Grace’s slightly strange mix of Estuary and Midlands accents. Oh no, she’d been to finishing school, our Polly had.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Sophie. Grace hadn’t checked whether there really was a Medical Care Company – she should have Googled that first, she thought afterwards – but it sounded as though Sophie thought there was, which was the key thing.

  ‘We’re a private healthcare scheme, offering special treatment to families with children with serious illnesses, and your name has come up on our database.’ Here she knew she was taking a huge chance: if Sophie didn’t really have a poorly child at all, then she would know that Grace was connected to Tom, and would probably guess immediately who she was. Unless of course she had spun her lies to a whole host of people, to garner sympathy for whatever sick and twisted reason.

  Grace had a sudden pang of guilt, and felt that she had stooped incredibly low in resorting to this, with the risk that she might be taking advantage of the mother of a terminally ill child. She knew that if the situation was reversed, she’d feel it was impossibly cruel. It was, but she needed to find out, and so she ploughed on.

  ‘Could you tell me your son’s name, and the details of his illness?’ Grace – AKA Polly – asked. Sophie hesitated. Damn, too much too soon. She should have sweet-talked her first, but she was new to this.

  ‘Can you tell me again where you’re calling from?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘The Medical Care Company,’ Grace replied, starting to feel nervous. This wasn’t going to be as straightforward as she’d hoped.

  ‘I need to be somewhere right now, so I can’t answer your questions at the moment, I’m afraid. If you’d like to leave me your name and number, I’ll call you later. Oh, and your website details too, please?’

  Dammit, Sophie knew this was fake, Grace thought to herself. She’d been rumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry, madam, I think I’m losing you, I didn’t quite catch that?’ Grace pretended the call was breaking up. God, she hated people who did that normally. ‘Sorry madam, sorry, I can’t hear you, I’ll call back later. Goodbye.’

  Grace collapsed onto the bed with a huge outlet of breath. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding onto it. Phew, I’m no good at this. Never again, she vowed. Never again am I stooping so low. This makes me as bad as her.

  She was gutted that the call hadn’t gone quite to plan. But then what had she expected? That Sophie would spill the beans about her ‘sick son’ to a complete stranger over the phone? Of course she wouldn’t. Grace was bitterly disappointed that she was no closer to finding out what Sophie’s situation was. The fact that she was still working was no proof in itself, they needed more than that.

  She just hoped to goodness James’ friend could come up with more information than she had been able to. The only thing she knew for definite was that her days of playing at private detective were over before they’d even started. She didn’t think she would rush to tell Tom what she had just done; she couldn’t see him looking too kindly on her phoning Sophie like that. She would tell him at some point, as she hated keeping things from him. But not yet.

  Eighteen – Evie and James

  August 2015

  ‘Come on guys,’ Evie said. ‘Last day tomorrow, what are we going to do to celebrate? I don’t want this holiday to end, we’ve all had such a great time. I was thinking, why don’t we find a nice restaurant somewhere, book taxis, really go to town, get dressed up? We could have cocktails here beforehand, I could go and get all the stuff in in the morning. We could do that and then get a lift into town, it would be great, wouldn’t it? But we need to find a really special restaurant, one we haven’t been to yet. I think I’ll just pop over and have a chat with Henri, see what he can recommend, shall I?’ She was brimming with excitement at her plans.

  James looked worried. ‘Sounds great, love but why don’t we wait till the morning, see how we all feel? We’ve got a long journey the next day so we might just want to stay here and chill out and make the most of the last day in the sun, don’t you reckon, guys?’ He looked to the others for support, but no one was making eye contact. Tom glanced over at him, wondering what the ‘bear with me’ comments from the other day were going to bring forth. He felt slightly uneasy about the whole thing. Whatever James was planning, he hoped it was something Evie was going to appreciate. That they were all going to be comfortable with, in fact.

  ‘What a total bunch of killjoys, you lot are soooo boring,’ Evie declared, when her excitement elicited barely any reaction. Exuberance didn’t come easily to teenagers so she was used to dead-pan reactions from them, but she would have expected more enthusiasm from Grace and Tom. Only the twins, bless them, showed any sign of excitement, although if they got their own way it would more likely be a trip to the nearest McDonald’s.

  ‘Well, if you lot don’t want to do anything, how about I take the girls shopping tomorrow? What do you say? We could catch the train into Bordeaux, see some real shops for a change?’ Immy and Ana still looked pretty nonplussed, even at the offer to have money spent on them, and shrugged at their mother in their usual non-committal way. They were quite happy with a final day by t
he pool, too, it would seem, before reality dawned and they had to return to a damp and chilly Britain.

  Seeing that his wife wasn’t going to let this drop, James got up from his lounger. ‘I will go and have a word with Henri, see if we can’t sort something out,’ he suggested, giving Tom a sly wink and touching the side of his nose. It looked as though the only way he was going to stop his wife ruining his plans for tomorrow was going to be to take matters into his own hands.

  ‘Henri, mate, bit of a dilemma regarding tomorrow,’ James said to the chateau owner. ‘If my wife comes over here sniffing around asking about restaurants for tomorrow evening, will you tell her I’ve had a chat to you and we’ve booked one you recommended? She wants to do something special, keeps on at the others about marking the last day. I can’t have this all blowing up at the last minute, so just say what you need to if she comes over, would you? Lie through your teeth if you have to, keep her off the scent. Thanks old pal, you’ve been so much help in all this. Really appreciate it.’ He patted the old man on the arm affectionately. He really had been very kind to James; he would make sure he was well recompensed for his services before they left.

  James thought he’d better not rush straight back to the poolside – that would all look too quick, too easily sorted out, so he fiddled around on his laptop for a while, hoping Evie would draw the conclusion that he was booking a restaurant. In fact he was checking his emails; he would really like to be able to give Tom some good news about the Sophie situation before they all left for home, but as yet there was no word from his contact back in the UK. It was a tricky one as he was asking his friend to divulge information he probably shouldn’t, but it was all in a good cause.

  ‘All sorted,’ he announced later, re-joining his wife by the pool and kissing her on the top of her head.

  ‘So, where are we off to?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m keeping that a surprise, you’ll have to wait till tomorrow to find out,’ he replied with a coy smile. Not entirely untrue, and actually, this whole situation could play to his advantage, now. No one was likely to disappear at just the wrong moment, now that they thought plans were afoot. ‘All you need to know is that everything is arranged, so Cinders, you shall go to the ball!’ He bowed theatrically. ‘Hope you’ve got your gown and pumpkin at the ready!’

  ‘Oh how exciting, I love surprises,’ Evie whooped, clapping her hands together with excitement, and looking to Grace to see if she was equally excited. Grace looked less than happy, Evie thought, but she failed to understand why.

  Great, James thought to himself. Maybe Evie would stop asking questions now and he would be able to get on and finish the final few arrangements for tomorrow that still needed his attention. Nothing like throwing someone off the scent entirely, it made life a lot easier.

  Tom and Grace exchanged a look. Neither felt they could trust James as far as they’d manage to throw him at this very moment.

  July 2014

  Fortunately it wasn’t long before the press lost interest in the James and Naomi story. Not surprising really, as there wasn’t much of a story in the first place, but that was typical of the press, making something out of nothing, particularly if big news items were in scant supply on any day. They were lucky that England was absolutely trouncing everyone else in the Commonwealth Games, with medals galore, so the press attention switched to that, plus there were the newly released photos to celebrate the first birthday of the undeniably cute third in line to the throne, Prince George.

  Evie thought with some satisfaction that Naomi must now resent the constant attention on William and Kate and their gorgeous baby. Someone like Naomi must feel she had failed in not nabbing a man who was at least a minor royal or had a title and estate. Being way too old for the one remaining bachelor prince must be so irksome to a woman of her lofty ambitions, although Evie wouldn’t put it past her to have a try, given the right circumstances.

  Wasn’t Kate looking slim and lovely, the papers remarked, although was that the slightest hint of a second baby bump already? Or was she just standing funny? Wasn’t her hair luscious, although weren’t there a few greys showing around her hairline now? Wasn’t William a wonderful father, so hands-on, despite his early ineptitude with the baby car seat, which was often revisited by the press as a source of great mirth? Evie felt for these pour souls, who had either been born into the public eye – or chosen to marry into it – and had constant press attention foisted on them. How on earth did they cope with the daily intrusion into their private lives? She thanked her lucky stars that the small amount of interest in James seemed to be behind them now, and they could hopefully return to anonymity.

  And so the so-called Financial Futures Scandal very quickly took a back seat. Evie scoured the papers daily, and just to be on the safe side, googled James and found no mentions less than a week old. She hoped things were starting to die down and they could now focus on getting their lives back together – which began with getting through the investigation.

  The FCA had arrived at the start of the week and commenced their work. It was like having the auditors in, only far more intrusive, as they conducted their investigation with suspicion already formed in their minds, out to find something improper, with the attitude that they would almost feel they had failed in their task if they didn’t. Evie felt as though they had been laid bare; it was as much of an attack as a grubby-handed burglar going through her underwear drawer. But she and James had talked things over at great length, and she was convinced they would find nothing at all untoward, so really she knew she shouldn’t worry, although that was easier said than done. James was a shrewd businessman, and no fool. He had never been one to cut corners, particularly in the current litigious climate, where anyone could be called to account. Every meeting he had was minuted, and he had assured her that even his meetings with Naomi were, too (surely not the one where… OK, she didn’t need to dwell on that, she was trying her hardest to put it behind her.)

  James had only stayed at the hotel for a few days, and was now back home. Whilst the paparazzi had been hounding him he felt it was fairer on everyone else if he stayed away. Evie hadn’t asked him to leave, but the pair of them had agreed it was probably for the best, for the time being and hopefully only for the short term. Despite everything, she thought the girls would find it easier to come to terms with the situation they were in if he was living at home, and the constant pressure to talk to one another had to help them all.

  Her plan seemed to be working and the girls were still talking to James, although there was often an icy edge to Immy’s voice when she spoke to her father. Evie had noticed her daughter quietly glaring at him on more than one occasion, as if trying to fathom out how someone she loved so much could betray them all so badly. Infidelity was a hard concept for a child to deal with, and any kind of instability within the family unit was unsettling.

  Anastasia seemed to be more accepting, but then she had been exposed to less of the detail than her older sister, as Evie had tried to shield her from much of it. Immy wanted to know specifics, and Evie had provided them – where she thought it was appropriate – whereas Ana had been content to let it wash over her, and try and get on with her own life. Both girls had very different coping mechanisms, but it made Evie sad and angry that their teenage years had been tainted by this.

  The atmosphere between Evie and James was frosty, but she was doing her best to be supportive, and having him in their home was helping her, too. She had to face up to him every day, couldn’t just ignore him, and so they did talk, even if the subject matter wasn’t always pleasant. She felt she did want things to be right between them again, but knew they had a huge hill to climb to get anywhere close to where they had been.

  Also there was the business to think of. However much she might swing from hating him to loving him and back again, the two of them had worked hard to build their company up, and it would be the (probably third) worst thing she could ever imagine happening if it were to come crashing d
own around them.

  A few days later James arrived home looking a lot happier.

  ‘They just called me in,’ he began. ‘I was terrified, it was awful, but guess what, they’ve cleared us! What a relief, I mean these people, they’re out to find something, no matter what, aren’t they?’ In the excitement of the moment he reached out to pull her close, then remembered their current situation and stepped back. Evie thought that actually she would quite like to hug him, and so she did just that. She pulled him to her, and he collapsed onto her shoulder. She could feel him heaving with the sobs that wracked his body.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Evie. So sorry I’ve put you through all this. You and the girls don’t deserve it. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get involved with her, she’s a dangerous woman. I could have ruined everything, couldn’t I, all for a bit of a thrill. But it has made me realise just what I stand to lose. I can’t imagine ever being without you, my love. You and the girls, you’re my world and I love you so much. I just hope we can start to put all this behind us now. Can we try?’ He had repeated this mantra many times in the past few weeks, in the hope that at some point, his wife would believe him.

  ‘I really want that too, but you have to give me time. I can’t imagine life without you either, but you have to understand how difficult this is for me. I mean, the thought of you with her, it makes me physically sick. I can’t get that image out of my head, it keeps popping up to torment me.’

  ‘I’m a fool, I know that now. Pity I couldn’t see that before I got myself into this mess.’

  ‘I know, but in the meantime let’s deal with one thing at a time. The business is in the clear, so that’s brilliant news. What happens now?’

  ‘Well, the FCA will put out a press release, one with pretty wide coverage, apparently, so that will hit all the papers tomorrow. We’re in the clear. I need to get on now with contacting all our clients again and letting them know the good news. No one has bailed out on us yet, but I have to say, if it had been in the papers any more, some of them were getting a bit twitchy so it would only have been a matter of time.’