Just My Luck(95)

‘A baby, hey?’ he offers eventually.

‘Certainly a pregnancy.’

‘You’re saying she might not keep it. I mean they are very young.’ He looks hopeful.

‘I have no idea what she will decide. Obviously, I haven’t had time to discuss the matter with her,’ I snap. It doesn’t surprise me that Fred’s first thought is to have this tidied away; apparently it was Ridley’s too. He confessed as much to me last night. A confession hiccupped out between tears of panic, regret, fright. I can’t imagine how horrendous things must be for Emily right now. An unplanned teenage pregnancy would be enough for any fifteen-year-old to cope with, but she’s been abducted by strangers too. She’s tied up like a badly treated animal. I feel faint with fear every time I think of her and I’m thinking of her constantly. All I want is to hold her, comfort her, tell her everything is going to be all right because whatever she decides I will make sure that much is true. We will be all right. I just need her home. She might be having a baby of her own, but she is my baby still. My job, until she is home, is to protect her right to choose her future. I know Jennifer and Fred will be pushing for a termination, sweeping this under the carpet. They want Ridley at Cambridge. I can’t even begin to think what I want for Emily, beyond wanting her to walk through the door. I ache for that.

Fred looks uncomfortable. He coughs as though clearing his throat. I expect him to start talking about the fact all teens are curious but that doesn’t mean they are ready to be parents. I expect him to give me statistics about the slim chances of teenage parents going to university.

‘Will I still get my cut?’ he asks.

‘Wow. You are asking this now?’ I drop back into the chair and glare at him.

‘I’m owed it, Lexi. You know I am.’

‘No, Fred, I know no such thing. I’m being generous in offering you a share.’ My tone is steely.

‘And you’ll still do that, even though the kidnappers have asked for ten million? I mean, you promised me three if I changed my statement for the inquiry and I did so.’

Funny that Jake thinks he sorted this with his bribe to Jennifer; he never really asked why Fred might have changed his statement in advance of being offered the one million. I suppose he thought Fred was doing it to spite Jennifer, considering everything. He didn’t know he had me to thank. Ten to the kidnappers, three to Toma, three to Fred. That would leave us with just under two million. It’s possible that Jake has spent most of that already – on the cars, the party, clothes, the house rental, the holidays he’s booked and cancelled, his brothers’ mortgages, my sister’s house. I find I don’t care. ‘I said three. You’ll get three,’ I tell Fred with a sigh.

He looks relieved. ‘You don’t think it’s over between them, do you?’ he asks.

‘I don’t care whether it is or it isn’t.’ I realise that there is a chance Jake will leave me anyhow. When he discovers I’ve cleared out our bank account, that there is no more money, I think he will leave.

‘I think they are done,’ says Fred firmly.

‘Are you thinking of staying, then?’

‘Isn’t a condition of the “gift” that I leave her?’

‘I never said that.’ Not in so many words, but if I’ve learnt anything from the lottery win, everyone has their price. Stylists, security guards, bar staff.

Husbands.

I wonder what Jennifer is worth to Fred. ‘The way I recall it, Fred, is that you said you wanted to divorce her but were worried she’d “take you to the cleaners” despite her being the guilty party. As your friend, I promised you that when you did divorce her, I’d help you with setting up a new home, living expenses, securing custody of Ridley etc.’ Of course, three million pounds does this and more. Fred’s eyes widen greedily.

‘I’ve already spoken to a lawyer. I’m not staying with her.’





41


Emily


‘Oh my God. Oh my God. What have they done to her? We need to get her to a fucking hospital.’

Dad?

‘Jesus, Jesus. It’s OK, baby. It’s OK. I’m here. Daddy is here.’ My dad hasn’t called himself Daddy for ages. I’d laugh at him, usually. I think I want to laugh but I’m crying. He is stroking my head and my face like he does when I’m ill. Is this real? Please let this be real. He usually smells of instant coffee, my dad, but now he smells of something darker and richer. His aftershave is different too. Is it him? Is this difference since the lottery win? ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry I let this happen to you.’ It’s not like he could have actually stopped them. This isn’t his fault but his words make me cry harder. Tenderly, as though he doesn’t quite trust himself to touch me, he carefully takes off my blindfold and my gag. ‘Oh my princess. What the fuck have they done to you?’

I guess I must look pretty bad.





42


Lexi


Just when I believe the longest day of my life will never end, it does so with a sweet, sudden abruptness. At 10 o’clock on Sunday night Jake does exactly what I need him to do – he finds our girl.

I had not even noticed, until it was too late, that when he’d strode out the house this morning, he’d taken my phone with him. He must have discreetly pocketed it, knowing it was the way the kidnappers would communicate. When I realised, just ten minutes later, I was wild. I felt thwarted, infantilised. Isolated. I had no way of reaching him and more importantly no way of hearing from the kidnappers. In frustration I threw a plate at the kitchen wall. It smashed satisfyingly. The shards splintered in every direction. The discarded jam toast that had been on the plate clung to the pristine white wall for a moment. I watched in fascination as it slowly loosened and then slipped, smearing jam, the colour of blood.