Sister to Sister

by Olivia Hayfield

  The projected profits of the casino venture were compelling. Surreptitiously watching the board members’ reactions, Eliza saw Chess being hooked in. Seymour, Rich and John were taking notes, nodding. There were pound signs in their eyes.

  Things were swinging Mac’s way.

  Eliza’s palms were sweating.

  Mac’s final slide was an artist’s impression of the castle-casino at sunset, lit up against the backdrop of Loch Lomond.

  ‘So there we have it,’ she said. ‘While I appreciate you may initially be cautious about supporting Rose’s involvement in a casino, remember it’s also about investing in Scotland’s local economy, protecting Britain’s heritage. Most visitors won’t be serious gamblers; they’ll be wealthy tourists having a wee flutter for fun. And, of course, the figures I’ve shared demonstrate beyond doubt that this project will give us a healthy ROI – one that’s far more robust than, say, the investment in RoseGold.’

  OK, now I actually hate you.

  ‘Thank you, Mackenzie,’ said Eliza. ‘Most informative. I’m sure we all have questions. I’ll kick things off with one of my own.’

  ‘By all means.’ Mac held Eliza’s eyes, inviting the challenge.

  ‘How confident are you that the source of co-investor Andre Sokolov’s funds is above board?’

  ‘He’s achieved remarkable success in Britain, particularly in the world of football. If his wealth were suspect, that would surely have come to light already, after all his years here. And his high profile can only be of benefit to Rose.’

  ‘I beg to differ. While I can’t reveal my source, I have evidence that Andre Sokolov is not a person Rose should be partnering with. He’s a criminal. My father realized this soon after Sokolov became involved in Rose TV. He offloaded the investment.’

  ‘That was years ago,’ interrupted Seymour. ‘The days of treating every Russian with suspicion are long past, Eliza. I, for one, consider this to be a sound proposal. I think we should back it.’

  ‘Do you?’ She fixed her gaze on Seymour, and in that moment, all the stress of recent weeks was concentrated into a beam of loathing aimed squarely at this man she’d avoided looking at for so many years. She thought about what he’d got away with. How it had affected her precious relationship with Rob.

  She felt a surge of strength. The #MeToo piece was planned for October, but Eliza felt it in her gut. It was time.

  ‘So you believe, Seymour, that just because something illegal, something . . . monstrous, happened years ago; if the person got away with it at the time, such an action should be overlooked for the sake of – what? The greater good? Profit? Although good isn’t a word I’d associate with Sokolov. Or you, in fact, Seymour.’

  He shifted in his seat. She saw the penny dropping. His eyes flicked around the others at the table. ‘It’s a sound proposal,’ he repeated. ‘Perhaps we should hear from the others.’

  ‘No,’ said Eliza. ‘I’m not done. Going off topic for a moment – sorry, everyone, we’ll come back to gambling in due course – I’m proposing that Seymour be removed as a trustee.’

  ‘What’s this about, Eliza?’ said John, frowning. ‘Please explain.’

  Eliza took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

  You can do this.

  ‘Seymour abused me. He touched me inappropriately, on many occasions, when I was a child in his care. I would suggest that invalidates the “trust” part of “trustee”. Thoughts, Seymour?’

  Seymour had turned pale. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It was just horseplay. And it was years ago. I’d suggest your memory is playing tricks.’

  ‘We’ll see what the police think, shall we?’

  ‘It would be your word against mine. No evidence.’

  ‘Seymour,’ said Eliza. ‘Have you not noticed? The world has changed. Our words are being given weight, now. Words like Me and Too. Words we can put out via the internet, even before we take them to the police. A tweet should do it.’

  John looked deeply shocked. ‘We all know Eliza wouldn’t make a thing like that up.’

  ‘You bastard,’ said Chess.

  Cecil stood up. ‘Please leave, Seymour.’

  Seymour looked round the table again. Met only with stony silence, he did as Cecil suggested.

  ‘A paedophile, a Russian crook and gambling,’ said Chess. ‘Leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Sorry, Mac. I won’t be supporting you, and Helena has already said no.’

  ‘Likewise,’ said John. ‘Seymour’s gone. Harry’s absent—’

  Rich interrupted. ‘Eliza, I don’t know what to say. This has come as a terrible shock. Of course you have my full support.’

  ‘And I,’ continued John, ‘as a military man, would never throw my lot in with a Russian. Let’s vote this out now, shall we?’

  ‘There’s no need for a vote,’ said Mac. She sighed, and sat down.

  Eliza could see her weighing up her options. If she gave up now, Hamish would be angry, but she might still be able to salvage her relationship with Eliza.

  ‘I’ve clearly misjudged the board’s core values. I was focused on the bottom line. I’ll tell Hamish you turned down our proposal. I hope you’ll view this in the spirit in which it was intended – as a good deal for the company.’

  Rather more than that.

  ‘Perhaps we can talk later, Eliza?’

  ‘My door is always open. As you discovered when you eavesdropped on my conversation with Charles. Perhaps knock next time. If you wish to continue working for Rose, you’ll need to appreciate that I expect absolute loyalty. I work only with people I can trust, whose values mirror my own. You’ll need to prove yourself. I look forward to the time when you do.’

  Chapter 47

  Eliza

  It had been a long, hard, traumatic day. Eliza suspected she was heading for emotional collapse when she found herself buying a box of Belgian chocolates on the way home.

  She ripped into them as soon as she was back.

  Dad’s in a coma. Nobody knows why, or if he’ll ever wake up.

  Rob probably cheated on me.

  Stu’s dead. Rizz is dead. Amy’s dead.

  Kit’s acting like there’s another disaster on the horizon.

  Mac could still be a threat. Her strings are being pulled by the man who likely killed my half-brother.

  Her mirror image from this morning spoke up.

  You won. You roasted Mac and Seymour.

  All by yourself.

  Eliza ate another chocolate.

  But what’s the point of any of it?

  I’m alone.

  A headache took hold, gripping her skull like a vice.

  She flung the chocolates across the room, went into the bedroom and crawled under her duvet.

  She jerked awake later, petrified. There was someone in her bedroom.

  As she lay frozen, images flew into her mind – her mother’s assassin, with a loaded syringe. Hamish, with a can of petrol.

  It was dark, but she could see his shadow.

  ‘Lizzie?’

  Lizzie?

  ‘I’m going to put the light on. Close your eyes.’

  ‘Rob?’

  Oh god, Rob!

  He flicked on the bedside light and sat down next to her.

  He looked different. He’d evolved again. There were the obvious things – the tan, the longer hair, styled differently.

  But there was something else. Something indefinable.

  As he took in her appearance, his smile faded. ‘What’s going on? Have you been crying? Is it Harry?’

  ‘I was having a moment.’

  ‘There are chocolates all over the living room floor.’

  ‘Chocolate wasn’t helping.’

  Eliza’s head was still pounding.

  ‘No change in Harry?’

  ‘None. And Mac’s being a pain. And . . . other stuff. But I’d rather not talk about it now. I’ve had one hell of a day.’

  He lay down and pulled her into his arms. It felt so good, b
ut she was too drained, too emotionally spent – and too wary – to respond. She closed her eyes and tucked her head into his chest.

  ‘OK,’ he said, when she remained still. ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here until you drop off, then I’ll have a shower. It’s only the middle of the afternoon in LA. I’ll be here when you wake up. We’ll . . . talk then.’

  But come morning, he was dead to the world. It was the early hours in LA. Best let him sleep.

  She slipped out of bed, showered and dressed.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she muttered, as she took in the chocolates sprayed across the living room floor. Yesterday had been an emotional roller coaster, and she had an inkling today would be more of the same.

  After coffee and cereal she went back to the bedroom and gazed at Rob’s sleeping form, trying to work out her feelings. Adorable Rob – her lifelong friend, her ally, her love. Rob, who’d wanted to marry her, who assumed her ‘no’ had been because of her father’s extra-marital adventures. And yet it seemed he’d gone the whole Harry, and hadn’t taken the trouble to hide the fact – from Chess, Gil, Leigh and Will. He must know that she knew.

  How could he do that to me?

  She quietly shut the bedroom door behind her, and left for work.

  ‘Rob’s back,’ she said to Pippa as she hung up her jacket.

  ‘Yay!’ said Pippa. ‘About bloody time. Oh, this came for you.’

  She held out a courier letter marked Private and Confidential.

  Eliza fired off a quick email to Terri:

  Need to update you on the #MeToo piece. And might need lawyers to check our position re Seymour.

  She pressed send, then opened the letter. Unfolding the sheet of A4, she gasped, her heart skipping a beat.

  DROP YOUR INVESTIGATION IF YOU VALUE YOUR BROTHER’S LIFE

  Along with the anonymous letter there was a photo of Eddie coming out of his uncle Rich’s Isleworth house, where he was sleeping over for a few nights with his cousins.

  Eliza examined the letter and photograph, but there was no clue as to the sender. It had to have come from Andre. But how could he possibly know what Charles was doing? Did he have a contact at the bank?

  Hamish.

  It had to be. Mac must have tipped him off after hearing her mention Sokolov’s name on the phone to Charles.

  ‘I’ll be with Terri,’ she told Pippa, heading for the lifts.

  ‘We have to drop it,’ said Terri, when Eliza showed her the letter. ‘Harry wouldn’t want Eddie’s life put in danger over this.’

  ‘No. But what if we take the evidence Charles has collected to the police? Then at least Andre might be arrested?’

  ‘Eliza, love. It wouldn’t be a priority, investigating bank fraud from years ago. And, in the meantime, Andre’s team of Bond villains would be on the loose, ready to do his bidding. Not worth the risk.’

  Terri was right. Hopelessness rushed in. What could they do? Absolutely nothing, it seemed. Dad was in limbo and Mum’s killer was still out there, doing whatever he bloody pleased.

  With a heavy heart, she went back to her office.

  KIT: Can you come round tonight?

  ELIZA: Not really. Rob’s back KIT: Please? Just for an hour? Important ELIZA: Are u in office?

  KIT: No, at home

  ELIZA: Will come now. Can’t concentrate on work anyway KIT: Good x

  Eliza pondered the situation in the taxi. She’d hit a brick wall; she couldn’t see a way forward. Terri was right – the situation was too dangerous, thanks to Mac. She balled her fists for a moment. Bloody Mac.

  Kit answered the door. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Nowhere I’d rather be,’ she said, hugging him. ‘Shit coming at me from all sides at the moment.’

  ‘But Rob’s back?’

  ‘Like I said, nowhere I’d rather be.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  He glanced at her as he fired up the machine. ‘Afraid I’m about to add to your shit.’

  ‘Oh god. Is this why you wanted to see me?’ She thought back to his weird behaviour at her flat.

  He leaned against the worktop as the coffee dripped through. ‘Where to start?’

  ‘Kit – what on earth is this about?’

  ‘It’s all linked. Everything. I need to explain, but . . . fuck it, I don’t know how.’

  ‘You, lost for words? That’s a first.’

  But she registered his expression. For the first time since she’d known him, Kit was looking vulnerable.

  He passed her the mug of coffee. ‘Come and sit down.’

  He picked something up off the table, then sat beside her on the kitchen couch, which looked out across the garden. The herbaceous borders were going to seed; summer was already a memory.

  ‘In storytelling terms, we’re at the denouement.’

  ‘What? For once in your life, Kit, just give it to me straight.’

  Wordlessly, he handed her a photo. In it was a beautiful blonde woman holding the hand of a boy of five or six years old. Looking closer, she recognized Kit.

  ‘This is my mother,’ he said. ‘My father killed her. And—’

  ‘What? Your father killed your mother?’ She stared at him in horror.

  ‘And . . . Eliza. He murdered your mother too.’

  Chapter 48

  Eliza

  She couldn’t take in his words. They whirled around her brain, refusing to stay still and be understood.

  He took her hand. ‘The bastard didn’t kill my mother himself. He organized it, back in Russia, when she wanted to divorce him. I used to hear them arguing. He’d say, If you leave me, I’ll kill you. She died of blood poisoning, same as Ana.’

  Eliza shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds.

  This couldn’t be possible.

  ‘Are you telling me . . . Andre Sokolov’s your father?’

  ‘Yes. Mum was English; they met when she worked for the British Embassy in Moscow. They moved between Russia and London. When she died I was sent to school in England.’

  ‘But . . . how do you know he killed my mother?’

  He was quiet for a moment, looking down at her hand in his. His hair fell forward, hiding his expression. ‘When I met you at Oxford, I remembered – Harry came to our house in Chelsea when I was a kid. I liked him; he made me laugh. I nearly told you I’d met him, that night in Browns. But then you said Ana died of toxic shock, and . . . it was the same as Mum.’

  His words were finally sinking in. ‘My god, Kit . . . ’

  ‘Something came back to me – a comment my father made when we were watching Football TV one time. He said that if it hadn’t been for him, Harry would have been ruined by his “angry wife” and Dad wouldn’t have had his stupid Football TV. I put two and two together.’

  Finally he looked at her, waiting for a response.

  This was all beyond incredible – and yet, things were falling into place.

  ‘But you never said anything. Why?’

  ‘You were so close to Harry, you wouldn’t have wanted to keep it from him. My father’s a dangerous man. I couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘Your dad killed my mum. Jesus, Kit.’

  He held her gaze, then smiled. ‘Cool plot twist, though?’

  ‘My god. No wonder you didn’t want to . . . with me . . . ’

  ‘That’s some baggage.’

  She put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. ‘Oh, Kit. You finally make sense to me.’

  ‘Do I?’ he said, putting his arm around her, resting his head on hers. ‘Perhaps you could enlighten me.’

  ‘The love that was taken from you – your mum.’

  ‘She was an angel.’

  ‘And your stance on sport.’

  ‘Well spotted.’

  ‘What are we going to do? Andre’s made a death threat against my brother.’

  He pulled away and looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘This morning. I had an anonymous letter, telling me to stop digging in
to his financial history if I valued Eddie’s life. There was a photo of Eddie, taken in the last day or so.’

  He frowned. ‘My father has people. A lot of people.’

  ‘I should explain. Dad asked me and Terri and Uncle Charles – Dad’s best friend – to help with his last-wish thing. He said if he dies . . . ’ She took a breath. ‘He wants us to expose Andre as Mum’s killer, to avenge her death. Reckons he won’t rest in peace if it’s not resolved. Dad’s not religious, but—’

  ‘He wants redemption.’

  ‘Yes. We have enough dirt on Andre to get him put away, but nothing to prove he killed Mum. And now it’s too dangerous to continue.’

  ‘I guessed as much, that night at your flat. Eliza, you’re going nowhere near him.’ He took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. ‘There’s a plan. That’s why I wanted to see you. Will’s on board – he’s coming back today.’

  ‘A plan?’

  ‘Everyone has an Achilles heel. I’m my father’s. He’s always trying to reconcile, even though he must realize I know what he did to Mum.’

  Their conversation by the Tower came back to her. I’m a fuck-up . . . nobody could sort out my shit – believe me.

  She touched his face. ‘I wish you’d told me before. I could have . . . ’ She was unsure of how to finish.

  ‘Maybe.’ He looked at her for a long moment.

  ‘You’re going to meet him?’ she said.

  ‘Tomorrow, at his house. I’ll try to get him to confess. Not sure how, and I know it’s a long shot. But I have to do it. I’ll record the conversation on my phone.’

  ‘I see. How long is it since you’ve seen him?’

  ‘Not since I was at school.’ He let go of her hand and stood up. ‘Hungry?’

  ‘What? How can you think about food!’

  ‘I don’t. But you’re looking peaky. I know pale is your default, but that is a whiter shade of pale.’

  She smiled. Kit. What had she done in life to deserve a friend like this?

  ‘OK. Maybe a slice of your signature toast?’

  ‘So, Rob’s back?’ he said, rummaging in a cupboard.