The Unwelcome Guest

by Amanda Robson

  ‘What if we have made a mistake?’ you ask, biting your lip to suppress your sobbing.

  You dry your face with your handkerchief, and sniff.

  ‘You won’t have.’

  You shake your head, slowly. ‘Keeping money for too long in a client account, when the client has asked for it back, is a serious accusation. The worst kind of serious for a solicitor.’

  ‘There’ll be a reason for it. Please don’t worry.’

  You blow your nose, swallow and take a deep breath. Your azure eyes are icy with fear.

  ‘What if there’s not?’

  ‘I can’t bear to see you like this. I wish this would just go away.’

  ‘What if your mother’s been into the office and stitched me up? Infiltrated the computer? Made it look as if we did something wrong?’ you continue.

  I shake my head. ‘Now you’re being paranoid. She wouldn’t do anything like that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she? I think she’s responsible for every trouble in my life.’

  ‘She was responsible for making me,’ I point out. ‘Do you think I’m trouble?’

  You almost smile. ‘You know I don’t. You know I love you, Miles.’ You walk across the room and sit down on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s just I’m frightened. Very frightened.’

  I sit down beside you and put my arm around you. You turn and cling to me, body trembling.

  122

  Hayley

  A month has passed since my kiwi pie cooking extravaganza with Miles and the boys. Saturday morning, again. Aiden at the house, again. He doesn’t seem to spend much time in his bachelor pad in Chelsea. He has shown me some photographs of it on his iPhone. It looks simple and stylish – glass, metal and mirrors. Nothing out of place. No clutter. No photographs. Almost into Knightsbridge, quite near Harrods. But I know why he spends so much time here. He can’t take his eyes off Saffron.

  I gather from the way he talks about her that he has been obsessed with her for years. He knows her dress size, her shoe size. Favourite colour. Favourite flowers. Every mark she obtained in her Cambridge finals. How long she spent in labour with both boys. How many stitches she needed. What she chose for pain relief. Every country she has ever visited. The make of her favourite lipstick. It’s too intense. It’s weird.

  When he arrived today his face fell, because Saffron wasn’t here. She had already left for the office to tidy up her files. And Miles had gone with her to give her moral support. Even his mother wasn’t around. Caprice is resting. Despite the love of his life’s absence, Aiden is helping me with the children. He often helps with Ben and Harry and they love him. We are sitting in the shade on garden furniture that would enhance most people’s sitting rooms, listening to him laughing and giggling through The Twits by Roald Dahl. When the story is over, the children chorus, ‘Read us another one. Please, please, Uncle Aiden.’

  ‘No.’ I stand up. ‘Come on, it’s a lovely day. I’ve packed a picnic. Let’s go to the park. Will you join us, Aiden?’

  ‘Please, please, Uncle Aiden.’

  He drives us to Windsor Great Park in his brand-new Maserati. Shiny midnight blue metal work. Seats of white calf’s leather. Surround sound sharp as an orchestra. It purrs along so smoothly I wonder whether its wheels are even touching the ground. Admiring glances at traffic lights. Admiring glances as we park the car.

  We walk towards the lake to find a scenic spot to eat, Ben and Harry running off ahead, Aiden carrying the picnic for me.

  ‘How’s Saffron been this week?’ he asks.

  ‘Miles thinks she’s distracted at the moment.’

  He turns to me, eyes sharp with concern. ‘I wonder why? Is she worried about something?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I’m just repeating what he said.’

  And suddenly I decide to make trouble. My love for you is growing, Miles. It’s out of control. I want you so much. If only you could step away from Saffron and notice me, I could make you want me back. You worry about Aiden and Saffron, don’t you? It must be hard having a wealthy brother who is madly in love with your wife. I am going to push it, really push it, one last time.

  I take a deep breath. ‘But I do sometimes wonder whether she’s got the hots for you and she’s trying to suppress it.’ I finish off with an encouraging smile. Head on one side. Young and pert and pretty, biting my lip.

  ‘The hots for me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  123

  Aiden

  Hayley’s words are like nectar.

  And, Saffron, you have been so kind to me lately. You have forgiven me for plying you with drink and kissing you. Your face lights up every time I call at the house. When I tell a joke you laugh with me. Last week you sat on the bed next to me, while I read a goodnight story to the boys. The boys stayed awake, but you drifted off, head on my shoulder. Just lately, my beautiful Saffron, you have been so relaxed with me. Relaxed and loving towards me. Are we on the road to love?

  124

  Saffron

  I knew this would happen. I knew the Law Society would send an investigating team to check our books. As I feared, a lawyer and an accountant arrived unannounced at 10.30 this morning.

  The accountant, Tony Waterford, is sitting at Ted’s desk, frowning at Ted’s computer screen, Ted hovering nervously behind him. Tony Waterford is a solid man, with a bald head and round eyes. His suit is too tight and too shiny. His shoes look as if he has been up all night polishing them. He taps his fingers on the computer keys. Neck stretched, he leans forwards and his frown tightens. I cannot bear to watch him any longer. I worry because even I couldn’t explain how Ted keeps his accounts. I pull my eyes away and stand up to close my office door so that I cannot see him.

  But just as I am about to shut the door, Siobhan McConnaughey, the Law Society’s solicitor, appears in front of me. A woman of a certain age, with bushy hair and a curvy figure. A faded soft blonde who I suspect once had flaming red hair. She smiles at me. I try to smile back, but my lips don’t move.

  ‘Can I help you?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. I need access to your email account. I’ll sit at your desk and use your computer if that’s OK?’

  But I know she’s not really asking my permission. It’s what she’s going to do whether I agree or not. I have no choice. The letter of intended investigation they handed to me as they entered the premises made that abundantly clear.

  I nod my head limply. ‘Yes. Do you want me to log in for you?’

  ‘No thanks. Just give me your email addresses, all of them, and your passwords. I will log in and run certain interrogatory checks on the system.’

  She sits at my desk looking crisp and cool in her navy floral-print dress. My hand trembles as I write my email address and password on a Post-it sticker and hand it to her. I take a deep breath and bite my lip, in an attempt to calm myself.

  ‘Is this the only email address you have?’

  ‘It’s my office email. I have a private one.’

  ‘I need access to that as well.’

  I sigh inside. That seems rather intrusive. Why should she look at the loving messages I send to Miles? But if I make a fuss it will look as if I’m covering something up. So I duly scribble down the details of that one too, and force myself to give her a wide stretched smile.

  ‘Should we go and have a coffee in the café over the road? Get out of your hair?’ I ask.

  ‘No. We need you all here in case we want to ask you any questions.’

  ‘Fine. But can you give us any idea of how long you will be?’

  ‘As long as it takes. Sometimes we are in offices for days. With private client companies we sometimes find all sorts of money laundering issues.’

  Days. Money laundering. Panic rises inside me. I am not sure I can cope with this. ‘I’ll just pop to the bathroom,’ I mutter.

  Keeping my eyes to the floor so I don’t have to look at Tony attacking Ted’s computer, or suffer the gaze of Julie’s worried eyes, I slip into our tiny cloakroom. H
ardly a cloakroom, more a broom cupboard with a toilet and handbasin in it. I put the toilet lid down and sit on it, head in my hands. I close my eyes. I feel sick, as if I am about to vomit. Faint. Even though I am sitting down. I wish I was anywhere but here. Anywhere? Not quite anywhere. I’d pass on a desert island with Caprice. My stomach tightens. Caprice. Is she behind this? No. Miles is right. Her influence couldn’t stretch this far. Even she could not make the Law Society do her bidding.

  I lower my head to between my knees. I begin to feel stronger. Slowly, slowly I pull myself to standing, splash my face with cold water from the basin and brace myself to step back into the office. Reminding myself that I am the founder and owner of BPC, not a criminal who has done something wrong. I am a businesswoman who has always worked hard and with integrity. Don’t let the bastards grind you down. Grind them down instead.

  I walk back into the office to find Ted still standing at Tony’s shoulder, watching Tony flick through our bank statements now. Julie is hiding behind a large arrangement of roses, fiddling with her iPhone. But despite my best intentions I don’t know where to put myself. I can’t get on with any work. There is nowhere to sit. I stand looking at the flowers. They rotate in front of me. They fade into grey and white dots, and my world turns black.

  I wake up to find Ted and Julie leaning over me. Julie is fanning my face with a magazine.

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. We’ve called an ambulance.’

  So much for grinding the bastards down. ‘I only fainted. I don’t need an ambulance,’ I bleat.

  ‘You need checking on. We can’t be sure why you fainted,’ Julie says.

  I sit up. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. It used to happen to me all the time when I was a child.’ I pause. ‘Cancel it please,’ I hiss.

  Julie and Ted exchange glances. Ted shrugs. ‘OK then. If you insist.’

  He steps away from us and begins to tap on his mobile.

  ‘Where are the inspectors?’ I ask.

  ‘They’ve gone.’

  ‘Did you get any information out of them?’

  Julie’s eyes darken. ‘Tony Waterford said he was concerned about how little capital we have. He says we aren’t going to survive much longer unless we get a huge cash injection. He’s obviously wondering whether that was the reason for delaying the release of the client’s funds.’

  My heart races. ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘Not exactly, but he implied it.’

  ‘When will we hear?’

  ‘He said investigations don’t run to a timetable. They just take as long as they take.’

  Blood rushes from my head. If I stand up, I fear I will faint again.

  125

  Aiden

  Oh, Saffron, I trust Hayley’s judgement. Deep inside, I have known for years that you have a secret yearning for me. We have always been friends, haven’t we? From the first time you came to our house for lunch and Mum kept calling you Julie. You find me far more attractive than you admit. Sometimes desire can be buried very deep. It isn’t surprising really. After all, I have a much bolder personality than Miles. He was a stooge to our parents. You are an exceptionally bright woman, and I am an independent-thinking man.

  Miles only managed to get into Cambridge because he was a rote learning swot, studying every hour that God sent. He didn’t have raw ability. His academic achievements involved studying day and night. Whereas it takes a special type of native ability to build up your own business. You need a naturally enquiring mind, and an empathy with people, to do that.

  Saffron, if you leave Miles and come and live with me, you will never want for anything. I will always be able to look after you financially. Soon I’m adding an enormous Sunseeker motorboat to my portfolio. Gone will be the days when you have to cosy up to obnoxious clients to be on a floating palace. With me, it would be yours.

  I’m at your house, waiting for you. It’s 7 p.m. You’re half an hour late. You are usually home early on Friday. I can’t contain myself any longer. I dial your mobile and you pick up.

  ‘Saffron Jackson here. How can I help?’

  ‘It’s Aiden. You’re late – I just wanted to check whether you were all right. I’m at your house, waiting for you to come home.’

  ‘Of course I’m all right,’ you reply. ‘Why are you at our house? Are you all right? Is everything OK at home?’ Your voice is strained. Cross.

  ‘I just fancied a bit of company this evening.’

  126

  Saffron

  I press red on my iPhone to silence Aiden. Waiting at home to see me, after the worst day I’ve ever had at work, in my whole life. The ambulance arrived after I had fainted, even though we had done our best to cancel it. I felt so guilty wasting the paramedics’ time. But they were patient and kind. Two young women, both less than thirty, I guess. When I apologised and said I was sure I was all right, they just replied, ‘We’re here to check. Every call is a priority to us.’ So they took my blood pressure, my heart rate, and even an ECG. Obviously looking for a stroke or a heart attack. Fortunately everything was normal, and they left to go to their next call. Ted and Julie finally released me from the prison of my office, allowing me to take an Uber home. I couldn’t face tube and train today.

  But now I’m stuck in the taxi, gridlocked by traffic, and Aiden is lying in wait for me at Wellbeck House. The driver is listening to my favourite radio station, Classic FM. John Brunning’s melodious voice soothes me. He plays some Holst and the music wraps me in the comfort of beauty. The scream begins to die inside me.

  When I arrive at the house it’s strangely silent. Aiden steps into the hallway to greet me, a grin enveloping his cheeky face.

  ‘Where is everyone? Hayley? The children? Caprice?’ I snap. ‘I know Miles is stuck in a staff meeting. He texted me half an hour ago.’

  ‘I encouraged them to go out because I wanted to talk to you, alone.’

  He steps towards me and puts his arms around me. My body stiffens. I push my elbows into his ribs so hard he jumps away.

  ‘Get out. Go away. Leave me alone.’

  And the scream that has been bursting inside me, trying to explode for hours, rises. It reaches the air and blasts into the hallway.

  127

  Aiden

  You pushed me out of your front door on Friday evening, after screaming and screaming. It gave me such a shock when you had been so nice to me lately. And now I am sitting at the ritual family Sunday lunch, watching you. You look depleted. You haven’t spoken to anyone since I arrived. Not even to your children, or to Miles.

  I am sitting here feeling guilty for upsetting you so much. Hayley may have thought you are secretly in love with me but she was wrong. I shouldn’t have believed her. I believed her because I so wanted it to be true. She is young and lacks life experience. Maybe she is fantasising about magazine romance for other people because she is with that prick Jono and she doesn’t have enough of it in her life. I have been admiring you from a distance for so long, Saffron, I am used to it. I will just have to continue doing that. At least I can stay close enough to be your friend. To share your life as a brother-in-law, an uncle to your children.

  Lunch is the usual. Two different meals. A roast dinner with all the traditional accompaniments, and a vegan casserole that looks like vomit mellowing in dishwater. Everyone except my mother is eating. Mother isn’t touching her food. She is just sipping a glass of tap water, and looking tired. So tired. Waif-thin, with bags under her eyes. Even her colour is wrong; her pale skin brushed with a glint of lime.

  After lunch I volunteer to help you wash up and clear the table. My best chance to speak to you, as it’s your turn on the rota. We load the dishwasher and our fingers accidentally meet. The touch of your skin against mine sends a pulse of electricity through me. I look into your eyes.

  ‘Saffron, I’m really sorry about Friday. I truly promise it will never happen again.’

  ‘Thank you, Aiden, because as you noticed, I can’t cope with it. I
love Miles. My life would fall apart if our marriage didn’t work. Your attention has caused enough trouble already. I can’t cope with any more.’

  I take your hand in mine and squeeze it. ‘I absolutely promise. And this time I mean it, I can assure you. I apologise for the damage I have caused already. I want what is best for you, nothing more. I just hoped … and I thought maybe … and I’m sorry. I will respect your wishes and leave you alone.’

  Your scream resonates in my head. It will haunt me forever. A scream of anguish. Not the scream of a woman in love.

  128

  Miles

  I pop my head around the kitchen door. Aiden and Saffron are holding hands, eyes locked.

  129

  Saffron

  Aiden is leaving at last. I sigh inside with relief, as I escort him through the hallway towards the front door. As I watch him pull away from the driveway in his dark blue Maserati; his shiny new look-at-me car. Today he has behaved as if he finally believes that the only man I want is Miles. So that is an improvement. A breakthrough, I hope.

  Siobhan McConnaughey, the Law Society’s solicitor’s words sear through my head.

  With private client companies we often find all sorts of money laundering issues.

  They will find something, won’t they? Something Ted and I have done wrong without even noticing? What about my time sheets? Have I filled some in incorrectly? Have I charged too much VAT? Not enough? What about Felman Holdings? My heart sinks. They were overseas customers with UK directors. Was I wrong not to charge them VAT? The more I think about it, the more I know I was wrong. My business is over. I’m falling off a precipice.

  I pop my head around the drawing room door. My family are watching Disney cartoons, snuggled on the sofa, in a line, eating popcorn.