Missing (60 page)

Critch’s jaw flapped up and down as he struggled for words. ‘I’m going to sue your ass for this.’

‘You’re welcome to try,’ and the line went dead.

As he put the phone down Critch looked at the security guards again, then without uttering another word he began stuffing his personal belongings into the black plastic sack.

With two minutes still to go he started the long walk across a silent newsroom to the lift, a guard either side
of
him, the bulky sack clutched to his chest. He wanted to shout and rail at them, remind them who was responsible for their Christmas bonuses and lavish expense accounts, but he said nothing. He merely kept his eyes straight ahead, knowing what was waiting for him out on the street, because some treacherous bastard in here would already have called up his mates to tip them off.

And sure enough, as he exited the revolving doors on the ground floor a plethora of flashing lights, TV cameras and microphones was shoved in his face, all wanting to record the Critch’s humiliation as he left
The News
and began the next long walk to the nearest Tube.

‘You haven’t heard the last of this yet, Avery,’ he suddenly growled into a camera. ‘So don’t even think it.’

‘That man so needs to get over himself,’ Kayla remarked, as the screen changed and Vivienne turned back to her computer. ‘Do you think Miles has seen it yet?’

‘As it’s been shown every hour on the hour since ten this morning, I should think he’s fed up of seeing it by now,’ Vivienne answered. ‘Can you email me with a list of the successful bidders, we need to start scheduling the work. Which reminds me, has anyone been in touch from Sky yet, to say whether they’re interested in filming the auction results in action?’

‘Yeah, and they definitely are, but we need to check with the bidders first, in case any of them want to stay anonymous. List of successful candidates coming up,’ she announced, and with a cheery flourish she clicked the mouse to send. ‘You will see,’ she said, as the email
dropped
into Vivienne’s inbox, ‘that we still don’t know who bid for Theo. If she, or he, doesn’t get in touch soon, we’re going to find ourselves short of fifteen grand.’

As Vivienne scanned the list of eleven she said, ‘Financially that won’t be a huge disaster, but in PR terms it won’t do us any good, because someone’s bound to accuse us of rigging the bids for TV ratings.’

Kayla shrugged. ‘We’ve got the money, or pledges, now, so what’s the difference?’

‘It’ll damage our credibility for when we do it again, and I don’t have to tell you how many enquiries we’ve already had.’

Kayla grinned. ‘Alice was right about this putting us on the map,’ she declared, with a triumphant punch in the air. ‘We are like so on our way to the big time. Anyway, it’s not long since the auction, so our mystery caller could still be in touch. Should we ask Sky to broadcast a request for them to come forward?’

Vivienne’s eyebrows rose as she got up from her chair. ‘That would be a last resort,’ she said, starting to pack her briefcase. ‘Alice and Angus are coming over for supper tonight, if you’d like to join us. Pete’s going to try and make it too, if he can get away from
Belle Amie
.’

‘That’ll be great, thanks,’ Kayla said. Then, watching Vivienne tuck a sleeping Rufus more warmly into his buggy, ‘What’s happening with Miles now? Is he still in London?’

‘No, he took Kelsey back to Devon this morning,’ Vivienne answered, going for her coat. ‘Jacqueline’s body is being transported to a funeral director’s in Bovey Tracey tomorrow. Cremation’s on Friday.’

‘Have you decided if you’re going yet?’

Vivienne shook her head. ‘I want to, for Miles, but not if it’s going to upset Kelsey.’

‘But if she’s not going herself …’

‘She might change her mind. Anyway, time for me to get this little horror home before he wakes up and wants his tea. Come over about seven. It’s only shepherd’s pie and a supermarket dessert, but Angus is bringing some good wine he tells me.’

To her relief, when Vivienne wheeled the buggy outside, there was no sign of the press, in spite of the number of calls she’d received throughout the day asking for her response to the Critch’s abrupt departure and his threatening comment to Miles. Since anything she had to say about the creep was unprintable anyway, she’d followed Miles’s lead and referred all press enquiries to Stefan, the lawyer, who’d prepared a statement on Miles’s behalf wishing Gareth Critchley every success in a new career.

Easily able to imagine how that must have set the man fuming, if not foaming, Vivienne walked briskly over to the towpath and was just heading towards home when her mobile bleeped with a text. Seeing it was from Stella, she opened it right away.

Might have good news. Can’t say more now. Keep fingers crossed. Will ring later or tomorrow. Stella.

Knowing it must be about Sharon, who’d started her treatment today, Vivienne immediately called Stella’s number. Finding herself diverted to voicemail, she rang off and tried Sharon herself. No luck there either, as the phone simply rang and rang,
meaning
she was probably sleeping after the first bout of chemo.

Deciding to try Stella again in an hour, she walked on, and within a few minutes she was wheeling Rufus across the courtyard and in through the kitchen door. Knowing her mortgage arrears were paid off now, and that there might be good news for Sharon, was allowing some brightness to shine through the dark heaviness she felt each time she thought of Jacqueline. The days ahead were going to be far from easy, she was in no doubt about that, but it was Jacqueline’s final hours that troubled her the most. It was heartbreaking to think of what she’d been through, and how, in fifteen long years, there had never been any respite. She’d never given up hope of one day finding Sam, until finally, for whatever reasons, she’d come to accept that the dream was as lost as her son. It was tragic beyond bearing, but even so, a small part of Vivienne could almost feel glad for Jacqueline that so much suffering was finally at an end.

After parking the buggy in the dining room, she turned on the lights, poured herself half a glass of wine, then went into the hall to hang up her coat and collect the mail. An electricity bill, a postcard from her mother in Italy, and a small white Jiffy bag that had no identifying logos at all.

Going back to the kitchen, she looked down at the package again, and felt a fluttering in her chest as she registered the Richmond postmark. But it couldn’t be from Jacqueline. Today was Wednesday and this … had been mailed on Saturday. For some reason it had taken until now to arrive, which wasn’t normal, but had clearly happened, so in fact it could be from Jacqueline.

She continued to stare at the handwriting, clear and neat:
Ms Vivienne Kane
, followed by her address and postcode. Since she’d never seen Jacqueline’s writing she had no idea if this was it, but an uncanny instinct was telling her it was.

Experiencing a confused sadness and frustration that Jacqueline might have written to her, when Kelsey had never needed to hear from her mother more, she tore open the seal and pulled out a single page with a cheque attached. There was also an envelope addressed to Kelsey.

Putting that aside, she unfolded her own letter and read the address at the top of the page first. This, she realised, was Jacqueline’s way of allowing them to find her, not too long after she’d gone, but not before she’d been able to fulfil her intentions.

In a neat, legible hand, she’d written,

Dear Vivienne,

I watched your auction, and because you seemed to be short of £5,000 at the end of it, I am enclosing that sum with this letter. Please accept it as my donation to a very worthy cause.

I am also enclosing a letter for Kelsey. I would like you to give it to her, because it is my hope that it will go some way towards helping her to accept you and move forward into the kind of future she deserves.

Thank you for your kindness when I came to see you. Rufus is a very special little boy. Please take care of him, and always watch over him. A mere moment of risk can, as I’ve discovered, change a life for ever.

What I am about to do is not meant as a
punishment
to those I leave behind. I do it for the reasons I am giving Kelsey, as she is the only one I really need to explain myself to.

Thank you, Vivienne, for caring as much as you do. I hope you and Miles will be happy together.

Jacqueline

As she finished reading Vivienne took a shuddering breath and blew it out slowly. Then, looking down at the envelope addressed to Kelsey, she reached for the phone to call Miles.

Chapter Twenty-six

NOT WANTING TO
risk Kelsey’s letter taking any longer to reach her than it already had, Vivienne set out early the next morning, with Rufus, to deliver it herself.

It was just before midday by the time she pulled up in the courtyard outside Moorlands, with Rufus singing and banging about in the back, and a weak autumn sun struggling to brighten a dull, but dry day.

She found Miles in his study, standing at the window staring down towards the lake. They’d talked long into the night, so she knew, even though he hadn’t put it into actual words, how deeply Jacqueline’s suicide was affecting him. Their marriage might have been over a long time ago, but he’d never stopped caring for her, nor had he ever ceased to understand or share her pain, since it was his too. What he hadn’t realised before, however, was that he’d allowed her to shoulder his hope of finding Sam. She’d kept that flame burning for them both, because he’d truly believed he’d given up on his son a long time ago. Now she’d gone he knew he hadn’t, and losing her was a little like losing Sam all over again.

Hearing Vivienne come into the room, some of the intensity left his expression, and his eyes softened as a jubilant Rufus ran towards him, arms waving in the
air,
baby teeth bared in a grin. Sweeping him up he planted a kiss on his cheek, before pulling Vivienne into a more intimate embrace.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked, reaching up to cup a hand lovingly around his face. ‘You look tired.’

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. ‘Did Stella get hold of you?’

She smiled and nodded. ‘The same donor. Let’s just hope that he or she doesn’t back out again.’

He started to agree, but his words were garbled by Rufus’s sticky fists grabbing his mouth.

‘Muh, muh,’ Rufus chirped, mimicking a kiss, and pressing his wet lips to his father’s he blew a soggy raspberry.

Smiling, Miles hugged him tightly, burying his face in him for a moment, before setting him down to run about the room. ‘I had a rather unexpected phone call about an hour ago,’ he said, turning back to Vivienne. ‘From Don Dickson.’

Her eyes widened with interest.

‘Would you believe, he offered me my old job back at
The News
? Double my previous salary.’

She blinked in amazement. ‘Are you going to take it?’ she asked dubiously.

He shook his head. ‘My days on the Sunday tabloids are long over. I’ve no desire to go back there.’

Not surprised by the answer, she said, ‘Have you given any more thought to what you are going to do?’

‘It’s always in my mind, but for the time being I still have a book to finish, and there’s plenty coming in from my non-executive directorships, plus I might accept a couple of the political columns I’ve been offered.’

‘Which means,’ she said, cocking her head curiously
to
one side, ‘you’ll be working from home?’

‘At least for the foreseeable future. It’ll give me more time to spend with Kelsey and Rufus, while my wife hits the dizzy heights with her agency.’

As her heart swelled, her eyes showed a subtle mischief. ‘I guess that’s going to make you a kind of house husband,’ she said.

Appearing amused, he said, ‘It would if you’d agree to marry me.’

Leaning in for a kiss, she replied, ‘I think I could manage that.’

A few moments later he said, ‘Does this seem like the wrong time to be asking? Yes, of course it does.’

‘You knew I’d accept, and I don’t think either of us was planning to announce it just yet.’

‘No, of course not.’

Her eyes swept over his face. ‘Have you told Kelsey about the letter?’ she asked.

‘No. Jacqueline clearly wanted you to, so let’s do it that way.’

She nodded. ‘Where is she?’

Turning back to the window, he gestured for her to look down at the lake. ‘She’s been sitting there all morning with that goose,’ he said. ‘I can’t get her to come in, so I took a blanket and a warmer coat down for her just now. She says she’s fine, she just wants to be left alone with Henrietta.’

Understanding the significance of the attachment, Vivienne smiled sadly. Both Kelsey and the goose had been abandoned by their mothers.

She gave Miles a fleeting kiss on the cheek, then went to take her own coat from the car, plus the letter, and began walking down the lawn. Even if Kelsey was as hostile and rude as before, Vivienne was
determined
to let it wash over her, while trying as gently as she could to break the news of the letter’s arrival. Then she’d beat a sensitive retreat to let Kelsey read it alone.

However, as she drew closer, and began to register how pathetically lonely and unhappy Kelsey looked, sitting on the blanket with Henrietta’s fat, feathery body next to her and elegant neck curled over into her lap, she decided at least to try and sit down with them for a while.

She was almost there when Kelsey looked up. The sun was behind her, so Kelsey couldn’t make out who she was at first until Vivienne stepped forward. Seeing who it was, Kelsey turned away.

‘I have something for you,’ Vivienne said gently.

Kelsey kept her head down. ‘I don’t want it,’ she said, her nasal voice betraying how much crying she’d done, but at least there was none of the bitterness Vivienne had been expecting.

Taking heart, Vivienne said, ‘Would it be OK if I sat with you for a moment?’

Kelsey neither moved nor spoke.

Hoping the lack of response was a permission of sorts, Vivienne sank down at the edge of the blanket.