‘Why do you say that?’
‘Scarlett left all her money to a charitable foundation that supports an orphanage in Romania. According to Stephanie, when she knew she was dying, Scarlett sent Marina back to Romania, where she’s from, to be the foundation’s representative at the orphanage. Basically, to run the place properly. Scarlett wanted somebody who knew how things work over there, but who wasn’t dependent on keeping in with the locals for her wages.’
‘And you know she’s still there?’ Charlie asked.
Nick made yet another note. His list was starting to look horrible. ‘I can check. But why would she get involved with something like this?’
‘Maybe she misses Jimmy. If she took care of him for the first four years of his life, it would have been a wrench to leave him. Maybe she didn’t have a high opinion of Stephanie’s childcare skills. You need to look at her, Nick. She’s someone that Jimmy would trust unquestioningly. If she could have found a way to get alongside him, she could have introduced him to the man who took him. It would have been easy for her to groom him.’
‘It seems a bit far-fetched,’ he complained.
‘This whole scenario is far-fetched,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s so public. Too many things could have gone wrong. It’s very bold.’
‘That’s why I was leaning towards Pete Matthews before I spoke to you,’ Nick said. ‘He’s a bully, he’s a stalker, he’s a control freak. He’s organised and he’s plausible.’
‘How well did he know Jimmy?’
‘I’m not sure. I think the boy was pretty young when Stephanie dumped Pete. But the guy’s a stalker, he might have found a way to get to know him.’
‘That’s true. I wouldn’t rule him out. But don’t lose sight of the other possibilities.’
Nick sighed. ‘If this is what you come up with off the top of your head, I’m not sure I’ve got the strength for a more considered response.’
Charlie chuckled. ‘Don’t hold your breath. There may not be much more.’
‘Before you go – what do you think this kidnap’s all about? Is it someone who wants Jimmy for himself, or is it going to come down to ransom?’
The line went silent. He knew she was thinking and he endured what felt like a long pause. ‘I don’t think this is about money. Because there is no money. There’s an intelligence at work here, and if a big payday was what they were after, there are a lot more promising targets than Jimmy. And that’s a good thing.’
‘Why do you say that? If it’s Jimmy they’re after, he might be gone for good.’
‘I appreciate that. But the chances are he’ll be kept alive. And that’s better than the alternative, don’t you think?’
23
Nothing was pleasant or easy when it came to dealing with Joshu. Every encounter with him or his lawyers was bruising and tiresome. I don’t know how Scarlett would have got through it without Leanne and me. We were the punchbags, the sounding boards, the support system. Marina did the practical stuff, but for everything else, Scarlett turned to the pair of us. We were her safety valve. On the days when she was off recording the TV show, she used up every ounce of energy maintaining Public Scarlett. Often when she came home, all she wanted to do was cuddle up on the sofa with a slumbering Jimmy, watch crap TV and drink Prosecco. But there were other times when she wanted to rant, and that was OK with us too. Leanne occasionally went out on the town. ‘Brave Scarlett’, she was these days, which was a definite improvement on the Scarlett Harlot.
‘He did you a favour, you know,’ I said one evening. I felt I was taking my life in my hands. She still wasn’t over him, not by a long way. But sooner or later, I was going to have to start saying what I really believed.
‘Oh yeah. Breaking my heart. That’s been really good for me,’ she slurred. ‘Like I totally needed something to push me into the family tradition of drinking like a fish.’
I squared my shoulders and looked her in the eye. ‘That’s your choice. And it’s a pretty spineless reaction, if you ask me. I think you’re better than that. Stronger than that. You prove it every day when you walk on that set stone-cold sober. This drinking at home, it’s nothing but self-indulgence.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be my friend.’ Her sulky mouth pouted even further.
‘Who else is going to tell you the truth? Joshu did you a favour. There’s the superficial thing of making you the victim in the eyes of the media, which is a whole lot better than them treating you like a villain.’ I waited for her to acknowledge I had a point.
Realising I was waiting in vain, I ploughed on. ‘He treated you like shit, Scarlett. You deserve better than that. But better wasn’t going to come along while Joshu was around, strutting his stuff. You’ve said yourself a thousand times, he was a crap dad. Well, the truth is, he was an even worse husband. You keep telling me about the grand plan. About making something of yourself. Face it, Scarlett, that was never going to happen while Joshu was still around. He’s on a downward spiral. You want to keep moving up, you’re better off without him.’
‘That’s easy for you to say.’ Her tone was surly, but she put the bottle back in the fridge without refilling her glass.
‘I know. That doesn’t make it any less true. You’re better off without him.’
The uncomfortable aspect to the whole business was that the more I dished out advice to Scarlett, the less I seemed able to apply it to my own life.
To me, it didn’t make much practical difference whether I was out at the hacienda or in my own home. Apart from the interviewing aspect of my job, I could work anywhere with a door I could close on the outside world. Now Joshu’s sound equipment was gone, the glorified shed he’d used in the back garden was free. So on the mornings when I woke up in Scarlett’s spare room, I would take my laptop out there and plug my earphones in to transcribe my interviews. If Scarlett was filming, I’d head back to my own house after lunch and stay there for a day or two. It was all pretty random, and I soon realised that, however much it might suit me, it didn’t suit Pete.
It started with him picking holes in everything I did. The vegetables I’d bought were past their best, the meat wasn’t good enough quality, the wine was a lousy year. The house was too warm or too cold. Then it got more personal. Apparently I needed a haircut or a pedicure or a whole new wardrobe. In bed, I was too demanding, too passive or too critical of his performance. Never mind walking on eggshells. I felt as if I was encased in them from head to toe. I felt anxious and apprehensive all the time I was with him. And of course, when someone you love constantly finds fault, it’s hard not to feel at fault.
Looking back at it now, I can see it was all about power and control. Pete could only see my friendship with Scarlett in terms of himself. Every evening I spent with her was, in his eyes, undermining our relationship. Why would I rather be with someone he despised when I could be sitting alone at home waiting for him to possibly show up? But at the time, I was bending over backwards to see his point of view. He worked hard and when he had free time, he wanted to spend it with me. That was an advance on a lot of the men I’d tried to have relationships with over the years. And he was still capable of moments of tenderness and humour, moments that transcended the unpleasantness and convinced me that yes, it was all my fault.
But once I’d established a work routine out at Scarlett’s, Pete’s aggression began to escalate. If I wasn’t around when he was free and wanted to be with me, he would send snotty texts. I’d told him he was welcome at the hacienda, but he sneered at the idea. ‘Why would I want to spend my nights in a witches’ coven?’ was one of his responses. ‘You witches did your voodoo on Joshu. I’m not giving you the chance to do it on me.’