by K. L. Slater
‘Brooke was quite sharp with Zachary downstairs just now. He looked pretty miserable.’
‘The saving grace is that I know Brooke does care about him, she’s just old school. A big fan of discipline and routine,’ Esme said. ‘Poor Zachary. It’s not ideal but thank goodness he’s been safe at least while I’ve felt so ill.’
Justine reached for her hand. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Can you check on Zachary? And I need you to speak to the hospital to find out Michelle’s progress, and also the police. I’ve heard nothing about any progress finding her attacker.’
‘What about Owen… is he still in custody?’
‘I don’t care about Owen at the moment,’ she said in such a vehement way Justine didn’t feel she could ask why.
She’d hoped to speak to Esme about what she’d found so far on the unauthorised Facebook page, but there was something more important that had to be said.
Esme said, ‘Would you drive me to the hospital later, when I feel a bit stronger? I haven’t been to see Michelle for days now. Brooke says she’s kept in contact with the hospital and nothing has changed but… I need to see her for my own peace of mind.’ She sighed. ‘I’m missing her so much, I just want her home.’
Justine said, ‘I think it’s best you don’t go there at the moment, Esme.’
‘I wouldn’t ask, it’s just that…’
Justine took a breath. ‘Look, I have something to tell you. I don’t know how to begin.’
‘Just say it.’ Esme was trying to smile. ‘Nothing can hurt me now.’
It took Justine a long time to speak. ‘This is not easy, Esme. What I’ve got to say is… upsetting. In fact, that’s an understatement. It’s going to knock you for six, and you’re going to be hurt and angry but—’
‘You’re making me nervous! I’ll let you know if I’m annoyed. Just tell me.’
Justine said, ‘I’ve been doing some research work… on the side. It’s taken a while because I’ve had to make absolutely certain I was correct before speaking to you.’
Esme gave a sad, wry smile. ‘You’ve found yourself another job.’
‘That’s not it.’ Justine reached down to her bag and pulled out a thick sheaf of paperwork. ‘These are my findings. This is the evidence behind it all, if you like,’ she said.
Esme frowned. ‘Evidence for what, exactly?’
Justine tapped the pile of paperwork. ‘I’ve set it out just like one of our projects. So you can see at a glance how I’ve come to the conclusion that I have.’
‘Goodness, you’re scaring me now. Spit it out!’
‘Esme, I’m so sorry it’s fallen to me to tell you something that’s going to break your heart. For the past six months, your sister has been betraying you in the worst way possible.’
Fifty-Seven
Esme’s face seemed to melt like wax in front of Justine’s eyes.
‘Tell me everything,’ she whispered.
Justine spread the papers out on the bed: printouts of emails, scrawled notes and telephone records showing highlighted key numbers.
‘From what I can gather, Michelle and Mo have been romantically involved for about a year now,’ Justine said. ‘But six months ago they changed gear, set up a podcast company called MiMo Productions with the two of them as joint directors.’
Esme lay a flat hand on her chest and took some deep breaths.
‘Are you OK?’ Justine said. ‘Do you want me to give you a few minutes?’
‘No. I want you to tell me everything,’ she whispered.
‘It started when I overheard a conversation between Michelle and Mo in the office about a month ago. They thought they were the last two members of staff around, but I’d popped to the loo before leaving the building,’ Justine said. ‘As I came down the corridor, I heard Michelle’s voice. She said, “It won’t be long now and we’ll be the ones making the decisions.” I peered around the corner and saw she was talking to Mo.’
‘Did you say anything to them?’ Esme asked.
‘No! While they were talking about you ruining everything the company did by insisting on being so honest, I crept back up the corridor. I waited a few moments and then made a noise walking down so they knew I was there. I couldn’t be sure who they were talking about but I guessed it was you. Still, it made no sense. I mean, I know how close you and Michelle are.’
‘What did they mean… too honest?’
Justine shrugged. ‘That you were planning on being so transparent with Simone, that she would get to approve every word of the final aired podcast, I guess.’
She added the ‘I guess’ bit to make her colleague and friend feel a bit better, but in reality, Esme’s commitment to such pure honesty irritated Justine, too. They were supposed to be journalists, not saints, and it was hard to put out a good story without upsetting someone. It had been that way since the beginning of time.
Justine braced herself for Esme to become emotional when she showed her the email she’d salvaged from the deleted emails folder on Mo’s laptop. She turned the screen so Esme could read it.
‘This was sent to TrueLife on the afternoon of your meeting with them,’ Justine said quietly.
‘Oh no…’ Esme whispered.
Mo had emailed the confirmation of a meeting with his new company, MiMo Productions, with Damon Yorke, the CEO of TrueLife Media. The message reassured him that ‘myself and Michelle Fox are the two major contributors to The Fischer Files podcast production and responsible for its success. Esme Fox has had minimal involvement, which explains why she couldn’t effectively present to you at your planned meeting when Michelle Fox was delayed and unable to attend.’
Esme seemed to visibly shrink, growing weaker in front of Justine.
‘I’d noticed you’d changed in your manner at work,’ Esme said, her voice thick and still seeming a little out of it. ‘I thought you were getting sick of the company. In fact, I thought that you were going to tell me you’d got another job.’
‘I wish that’s all it was,’ Justine said. ‘I have felt frustrated at times but I haven’t felt I could approach you until now.’
‘But – are you sure? Are you positive about all this?’
‘Yes. I’ve followed them, eavesdropped on them, tracked back how long they’ve been seeing each other. I’ve even sat waiting in the nature reserve, watching as they snuck out of work to meet in Mo’s Audi. Sorry.’
‘I know it can’t have been easy to come here today and say what you had to say, Justine. You’ve had my back on something I hadn’t a clue about and I thank you for that. But this still doesn’t make sense. If they’re so close then why isn’t he crying by my sister’s bedside?’
‘Because that would have blown everything wide open. Michelle may recover and so he needs to keep their plans to himself. But it has affected him badly. When you came into the office he put on a brave face but I’ve noticed he’s been distracted and down. He’s cancelled some meetings and avoided all but minimum contact with me. This definitely wasn’t part of their plans.’
‘Do you think he knows what happened to Michelle? Or has an idea who might have done this?’
Justine shook her head. ‘I don’t think he has a clue. He’s walking around with this baffled, worried look on his face.’
Esme was acting surprisingly calm, as if she’d taken everything in her stride, but Justine wasn’t fooled. Her fingers twisted together and her foot tapped incessantly on the floor.
Justine paused before continuing. ‘In view of what you now know, do you still want to go to the hospital to see Michelle?’
Esme stared at the wall for a few moments.
‘I do. I have to,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t know why she’d do this to me, but I intend to find out as soon as I’m able. Michelle’s out of action in hospital, so that just leaves Mo here to do his worst. I need to stop him going any further with this, stop him ruining the business completely. Not easy to do when he’s the IT manager. If I just f
ire him he could simply take all the documentation and all our clients with him at the click of a button.’
Esme untangled her fingers and Justine saw that her hands were shaking.
‘Leave it with me,’ Justine said. ‘I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ve restored all the information on Michelle’s laptop. Mo had run an overnight programme to remove the security on the machine, but I got in the office the next day before he did and wiped it clean so he never saw all the files on there. It looks like Michelle was stockpiling information for MiMo Productions. They’ve been stealing data – your contacts and the supplier contracts – for some time, so they could hit the ground running with their new company.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Esme said, opening the laptop. She looked sickly, so pale.
‘I’m going back into the office now. Hopefully, if I can find Mo’s laptop – not an easy task, as he usually takes it home every night – I can use the flash drive to take data from his, too.’
‘Bring Zachary up here to me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want Brooke anywhere near him now.’
Justine turned to leave when Esme’s phone began to ring. She waited while Esme answered it and watched as the colour drained from her face in an instant.
‘Thank you,’ Esme said faintly. ‘I’ll get there soon as I can.’
She dropped the phone onto the bed and stared open-mouthed at Justine.
‘That was the hospital. It’s Michelle… she’s awake.’
Fifty-Eight
ESME
While Justine used the bathroom, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a few moments before standing up. My legs still felt a bit shaky but I took my time. My head cleared slightly and I took a few steps forward.
I could barely concentrate on moving for racking my brains about what Justine had just told me. I found myself thinking back, combing over the last year, since starting The Speaking Fox. I couldn’t come up with one hint or incident that should have rang an alarm bell and told me that Mo and Michelle were an item.
Mo and Justine I could have handled. But Mo and my sister? It was crazy. Michelle and I had been through so much stuff together. We’d stuck together as kids, supported each other after Mum’s death. We dreamed up the business together, she moved in after Owen left… had I imagined all this stuff? No! We were as close as sisters could be, sharing our home life, work and even leisure time. There had been no room for Mo; her life had been full of me and Zachary.
And another question loomed large, too. Zachary knew Mo well. He would have said if Mo was the man he’d seen Michelle with outside the school gates; there would have been no mystery about it. So it must’ve been someone else. But who?
Slowly, I padded out of the bedroom and down the landing. I could hear voices downstairs. As much as I hated to do it, I had one more favour to ask of Brooke.
I heard feet pounding up the stairs and I froze. I was acting like a kid caught in the act in my own home! I just don’t know how it got to this so quickly.
‘You should be sleeping.’ Brooke stood, hands on her hips. ‘Back to bed, I think.’
My legs still felt a touch wobbly but I hid it as best I could and turned to face her. ‘Michelle is awake,’ I said. ‘Justine is going to drive me to the hospital and I wondered if you’d mind watching Zachary for me? I’m not sure what to expect and the hospital is no place for him.’
Her frown disappeared. ‘Of course. He’s quite safe here with Grandma.’
‘Mum? Where are you going?’ Zachary appeared at the bedroom door. I looked up and saw the unhappiness etched on his face.
‘Come over here, sweetie. I’ve just heard that Aunt Miche is awake.’ I held out my hand to him and forced a brighter tone. ‘I’m going to see her now and hopefully, it won’t be too long before I can take you with me.’
‘I want to come with you,’ he said, glancing nervously at Brooke. I felt his desperation to be with me and I took him in my arms, held him to me.
‘Soon,’ I murmured, into the top of his head. ‘Soon, I promise.’
Brooke patted his arm. ‘Come on, we can work on that welcome home card for Daddy.’
With a last lingering look, Zachary reluctantly broke away from me. His spirit, his fire, seemed so dampened.
I felt a thread of steel winding through my insides. I would pick my time to face Brooke. I wanted both her and her lying son out of my house and out of my life for good.
But first things first.
Justine and I barely spoke on the way to the hospital. I couldn’t. I just needed to be quiet and think. Try and get my head around everything that had happened.
Halfway there, I thought about asking her to turn the car around and take me back home. I thought about sending Justine to speak to Michelle instead. But ultimately, I said nothing. I knew I had to face her. It was constantly running away from facing reality that had got me to this place.
Justine waited outside in the car and, slowly, I made my way up to the ward. I still felt weak and had no energy. They buzzed me into ICU, and before the nurse took me up to Michelle’s bed, the doctor came over to speak to me.
‘Her body has incurred a lot of damage from the attack. It’s still touch-and-go but, if she’s lucky, she’ll make a slow, steady recovery,’ the doctor said.
‘Will she eventually get back to being her normal self?’
‘Visually, she will be left with scars on her face, forearms and torso. Mentally, in some ways, she may never be the person you remember, but only time will tell. That’s a long way ahead, and there are many obstacles still to get through. For now, our priority is getting her stabilised.’
Little did he know she was already someone different from the person I remembered.
The nurse escorted me on to the ward and every step I took felt like a mile. I still felt so sick and weak and the thought of facing my treacherous sister made me want to turn around and leave. But I forced myself to carry on walking.
‘She has some memory loss, which is to be expected,’ the nurse told me. ‘Her memory may well return, but for now she can’t recall anything about the actual attack, though she may remember other, earlier, events. The brain works in peculiar ways.’
My heart sank as I realised the torture would continue. I’d hoped for answers about Peter Harvey but now… Michelle probably wasn’t going to be able to tell me anything at all about the attack.
When we reached her bedside, I saw her eyes, wide and dark, staring at me. There was a lighter, more transparent oxygen mask over her face, but the bruising and swelling seemed just as bad.
The nurse gently removed the oxygen mask from Michelle’s face. ‘If she seems to be struggling, just pop it on again for a short time, OK?’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll give you some privacy,’ the nurse said, leaving us.
‘Esme,’ Michelle whispered, and her fingers moved on the blanket. I touched her hand and she grasped mine. In a rush, I forgot everything she’d done and we were just sisters again. Our eyes met and I could tell she felt it too… our indelible genetic link that ran under everything. That which surely could not be erased. Was it possible we could somehow get over the lies and betrayal?
‘Can you remember anything about the attack?’ The words were out there. I couldn’t help myself. ‘Anything at all?’
She gave a tiny shake of her head and let go of my fingers. ‘Nothing.’
Her voice was almost inaudible, the word emerging like a scrape in her throat.
‘Zachary asks about you every day,’ I said. ‘He misses you so much.’
She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and staring at me. I couldn’t go on like this. I had to say something. ‘Michelle… I know,’ I said. ‘I know about you and Mo. I know about MiMo Productions.’
I watched as a tear blossomed and traced its way across her purple swollen cheek, trickling down into her ear.
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you,’ s
he whispered hoarsely. There was no sense of denial, just regret.
‘You can remember?’
She gave a single nod. ‘We… we got carried away. Mo was angry, I – I betrayed you.’
She could obviously remember the months before but not the actual attack.
‘But why?’ I bent closer to her. ‘I just want to know why. When we’ve always been there for each other as sisters, our whole lives? How could this come between us?’
She turned her head slowly and looked at the glass of water on the side. I reached for it, held the back of her hot, damp head while she took a couple of sips.
‘You remember… differently to me.’ She spoke slowly, taking in breaths between every short burst of words. ‘You never… see what’s in front of… your own eyes.’ She paused before continuing. ‘In the end I just… I resented you. I’m sorry.’
‘What? I thought we were close, thought…’
‘Sometimes you’ve been like… Big Brother watching over me… telling me what I should do, how I should live,’ she whispered. ‘When Mum died… you just took control… expecting me to want what you yourself wanted.’
‘But I was just looking after you! And we’ve had such good times, too. I can’t accept that—’
‘Listen to yourself. “I can’t accept.”’ She paused to rest, taking a few breaths under the mask again before continuing. ‘You can’t accept that people have their own lives… you can’t accept your way is not always the best way.’ The words bled out of her. ‘You try to control every last detail in your life, including the people around you, because if not… well, you’d have to stand back and look at yourself, wouldn’t you? See you’re far from perfect, see that you don’t always know best. Could you cope with that? I don’t think so.’
I felt stone cold to my bones. The things she was saying, what she’d secretly thought of me all this time. Was there truth in any of this? Some of what she said reminded me of Simone, talking about Grant. But I wasn’t a controlling person… was I?
