Winner Takes It All (32 page)

Driving back to London, she called Paula and reassured her
that Tara would soon be thousands of miles away from Tom. After
that she called Charlotte and asked if she could look on the
electoral register and get an address for a Fiona Montague in
Camden. She recalled Tom saying his mother lived in a house in
Camden given to her by her father and as far as Alex was aware, the
woman had never married so should still go by her maiden
name.

Alex made a quick pit stop back at Sheridans HQ to check her
emails and get the address from Charlotte. Fiona lived on Parkway
and Alex intended on making a spot visit that very day. She opened
Outlook and groaned to see she had been copied into a thousand and
one emails between Robin and the estate agent dealing with the
purchase of the house in Chelsea. Alex had no interest in it and
didn’t care where they lived. She deleted all the emails without
even reading them. She then called Natalie Favreau. They hadn’t had
the chance to speak since Tom’s trip to Paris and Alex was curious
to get the low down.

‘What
was his behaviour like while he was there?’ Alex
asked.

‘Fine. He didn’t act shifty or anything. If I hadn’t known
better I would have been taken in.’

‘Did
he meet with anyone?’

‘Yes.
He met with a man during the last week, just shortly before the new
bid was put in.’

‘Really? How interesting. What was this man like? It wasn’t
my brother was it?’

‘No.
This was a middle aged man. Smarmy looking. I only noticed it on
the CCTV. We like to back up the tapes and convert them to digital
format in case we ever need them. This man met Tom in the lobby,
then they went into the bar, had a drink for a while and the man
left.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Only
Tara. She arrived on the Friday evening and left on the Saturday
morning.’

‘The
sneaky little so and so, she never said a thing. This FreeTime, do
you have any idea who they are?’

‘No,
my broker just said they were an American company looking to expand
in France.’

‘Okay. Do you think you could email me the film of Tom with
this guy?’

‘Yes
of course. I’ll find the file and get it over to
you.’

‘Thanks Natalie, you’re a star. I feel like we’re finally
getting somewhere.’

Alex
left the office and drove over to Parkway, hoping she’d catch Fiona
Montague in. Hopefully as Tom’s mother, she would be able to fill
in a few missing details and could tell them if she really had been
disowned or if that was a pack of lies
too.

Fiona lived at the less salubrious end of Parkway. The old
house smacked of neglect and was ramshackle and cracked. It
certainly didn’t look like the abode of someone who was still
financed by her rich parents but Alex knew that was no guarantee;
the aristocracy could be quite eccentric and often liked to live in
slums.

The door was opened by a young man of Middle Eastern
appearance, wearing only a pair of very low slung trousers - a
lazy, sleepy expression in his dark
eyes.

‘Can
I help?’ he asked in a heavily accented voice.

‘Does
Fiona live here?’ Alex replied.

‘She’s in kitchen. Come in.’

He stepped aside and let Alex walk into the house. It was
grimy and stunk of cannabis and unless this was elegant slumming,
it seemed Tom had been telling the truth about his impoverished
upbringing.

Alex had to stifle a gasp of shock on being confronted with
Fiona Montague for the first time. She was almost the spitting
image of her Aunt Paula – tall, skinny, with a tired and yet
beautiful face. Her hair however was a ghastly pillarbox red and
she looked quite mad. She furrowed her brow at
Alex.

‘Can
I help you?’ she asked. She may have looked like a scruff, but her
diction was perfect.

‘Alex
Cusack,’ she said, extending a hand which Fiona shook briefly. ‘Can
we have a chat?’

Fiona looked at the rickety wooden
table.

‘Take
a seat.’

Alex sat down, discreetly looking around at this horrible
kitchen with its mis-matched cupboards, cracked windows and
yellowing walls. An ashtray with a collection of discarded spliffs
sat on the side of the sink and Alex found the smell of stale
coffee, sweat and cannabis quite nauseating. She refused Fiona’s
offer of a cup of coffee for fear of bringing it back up
again.

Fiona sat before her, lighting up a cigarette and sipping on
her own drink.

‘You
look like Lucy,’ she suddenly said.

‘A
lot of people say that,’ replied Alex. ‘Did you know my Aunt
well?’

‘I’d
see her on and off. What is she doing these
days?’

‘She’s an author. She writes historical romances; she also
looks after my grandmother’s literary estate.’

Fiona laughed and dragged harder on her
cigarette.

‘I
always wanted to be a Cusack. You always seem so
happy.’

‘That’s a myth,’ replied Alex wisely. ‘We’re just good
actors.’

‘So
what do I owe the pleasure Alex?’ Fiona asked.

‘Can
you tell me a bit more about Tom? He’s become very close to my
cousin Tara and she’s had a few problems and I’d like to find out
some more about him. Make sure he’s not likely to hurt
her.’

‘Tom’s more likely to hurt himself. That boy lives with his
head up in the clouds. Why you gave him the job of running the
estate I don’t know.’

‘Because he was well qualified.’

‘Tom!’ she spat. ‘Qualified? Tom’s not qualified to do
anything. My son’s illustrious career consists of shitty waiting
jobs, working as a courier and writing ridiculous plays no one ever
came to see.’

‘You
mean he never ran Troyton House? Or worked at the Museum of the
City of London?’

‘Good
God no. Is that what he told you?’

‘Does
he have any contact with Sorcha?’

‘My
mother? I don’t know. When I was placed in my glorious exile, I
remained in touch with Abigail - much to my mother’s annoyance, but
I haven’t spoken to Sorcha since the day I told her I was pregnant
with Tom. He’s quite pally with Jackson, so he might have
done.’

‘Jackson?’

‘Abigail’s son. He financed Tom’s last venture, a musical
version of Venus in Furs, stupid boy. It was an almighty flop and
now he owes Jackson hundreds of thousands of pounds and I cannot
begin to imagine how he’s going to pay him back. I certainly can’t
lend it to him.’

A picture was starting to form in Alex’s mind and she just
had to confirm a few more details.

‘What’s this Jackson like?’

‘A
male version of Sorcha. I would often have my sister on the phone
crying because Jackson had been expelled from yet another
ridiculously expensive school. Usually it was because he was
bullying some other boy. He’s a Sheridan alright, he reminds me a
lot of my grandfather Patrick - an evil, manipulative
bully.’

‘I
think he’s bullying Tom.’

‘What
do you mean?’

‘I
could be wrong but I think Tom’s repayment to Jackson is to help
him and Sorcha gain control of Sheridans.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I
can’t be sure but since Tom’s appeared on the scene I’ve had
several deals outbid on, my hotel in Liverpool was set on fire,
there was that horrid story about Finn Healy. Now you tell me he’s
lied about his qualifications.’

‘The
stupid idiot,’ Fiona sighed. ‘What are you going to
do?’

‘I
don’t know.’

‘Do
you want me to speak to him? Not that he’ll take any notice of
me.’

‘No
it’s okay. I’ve got to be sure of what’s going on yet. It is all
starting to make sense though.’

‘Yet
another of Tom’s great cock ups. I’m quite disappointed actually. I
really thought this job in Summerset was him turning over a new
leaf and he could help build bridges with the Cusacks. And all the
time it’s just my son fighting above his weight as
usual.’

Alex drove back to HQ with her mind full of her meeting with
Fiona Montague. It all made sense now - Tom owed Jackson money and
what better a scheme than to get him to infiltrate the family,
playing on the fact he was the disowned grandson and had no contact
with ‘the other side’. She almost felt sorry for him. It was
obvious he had fallen for Tara and yet was being employed to
destroy her family. But at least she now knew with whom they were
dealing and it was time to draw up the battle
plans.

Back at her desk, Alex opened her emails and saw Natalie had
fulfilled her promise. She had attached a Quicktime movie of the
CCTV footage and Alex waited in anticipation for it to open. She
gasped in shock when before her eyes was grainy footage of Tom
sitting at the hotel bar, chatting to none other than Maurice
Bannerman. Alex tried to stop herself from jumping to conclusions.
Tom had met Bannerman once before and there was a chance the two
men had bumped into each other. She’d known Maurice Bannerman all
her life and it was hard to comprehend he might do something to
jeopardise Sheridans. After all, he was a board member, he had
financial interest in the company - if they lost money, so would
he.

Alex picked up the phone and called
Tara.

‘Tara
Eades,’ she chirped.

‘Tara
it’s Alex. Is Tom there?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. Look, I’ve spoken to Natalie Favreau and she tells me
you went to Paris and I’m not worried about that, but I do need
your help. Did you see Maurice Bannerman
there?’

‘Yes,
I almost bumped into him at Gare du Nord. I don’t think he saw me
though.’

‘Okay, and did Tom mention seeing him?’

‘No,
I asked Tom if he had and he said he hadn’t.’

‘Right.’

‘Why
are you asking these questions Alex?’

‘Tara
I think Tom is working to bring down Sheridans. I’m so sorry my
darling because I know how you feel about him, but he can’t be
trusted. Now get your bag packed and drive up to Barnes. You can
stay with me until you go to America and don’t tell him where
you’re going.’

‘What
do you mean working to bring down Sheridans?’

‘I’ll
tell you this evening. Just get away from him
Tara.’

She put down the phone and picked it up once more to call her
father. While she waited for it to answer, she prepared the email
of the video to forward to Christian, so he could see it for
himself.

Ben picked up the phone.

‘Layton House.’

‘Hello grandpa,’ she said, trying to hide the tension in her
voice. ‘Could I speak to daddy please?’

‘Certainly Lou,’ he replied. ‘I’ll try and work this special
button thing that transfers calls.’

The line went dead and Alex reeled a little, realising her
grandfather had called her Lou. Her grandmother seemed to be on his
mind a lot lately and that disconcerted her slightly. She recalled
when her mother was in the later stages of her cancer, she would
regularly sit chatting to Philip, her brother who had died twenty
years beforehand. The dying always seemed to be able to see the
already dead, and it scared Alex to think all might not be well
with her beloved grandpa.

As if to remind her he was fine, Ben mastered the technology
and put her through to her father without a
hitch.

‘Alex?’

‘So
grandpa did tell you the right name,’ she laughed. ‘He called me
Lou.’