The Royal Secret Page 23

  Zoe saw Simon was as uncomfortable about the situation as she was and her antipathy softened somewhat. Neither of them had any choice in the matter, after all. “Look, why don’t you go and put your stuff upstairs, then come down for a coffee? It’s the door on the left, right at the top of the stairs.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He gave her a grateful smile. She watched him mount the stairs with his holdall, then went into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

  “Black or white? Sugar?” she asked as he wandered into the kitchen ten minutes later.

  “Black, one sugar, please.”

  She put the mug in front of him.

  “This is a lovely old house, Miss Harrison.”

  “Thank you. And please, if we’re to live together—I mean, under the same roof,” she added hastily, “I think you’d better call me Zoe.”

  “Okay. And I’m Simon. I understand that having me here is the last thing you want. I promise I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible. I’m sure you’ve already been warned that I’ll have to accompany you on all your journeys, either behind you while you drive your car yourself, or, if you’d prefer, I’ll chauffeur you.”

  “No, I wasn’t told.” Zoe sighed. “I have to go and pick up my son, Jamie, from school this afternoon. Surely you don’t need to come with me to do that?”

  “I’m afraid I do, Miss Ha— Zoe.”

  “Christ!” Zoe’s hard-won calm was in danger of collapsing and turning to all-out panic. “I really haven’t thought this through at all. Who am I meant to say you are?”

  “Perhaps it’s best to say that I’m an old friend of the family, a distant relative, who’s over in London from abroad, and I’m staying with you for a while until I find a place of my own.”

  “You must understand that Jamie’s very bright. He’ll quiz you on exactly which side of the family you’re from and want to know the details.” Zoe thought for a while. “You’d better say you’re a great-nephew of Grace, who was my grandfather’s dead wife.”

  “Fine. Then it might be easier if I drive you to the school this afternoon. I think your son might think it strange if he notices me tailing you.”

  “Okay.” Zoe bit her lip. “And the other thing is, I don’t want any members of my family to know either. It’s not that I don’t trust them, but—”

  “You don’t trust them,” he finished for her, and they shared a smile.

  “Exactly. Goodness, this is going to be so difficult. I mean, my friend and I are going shopping tomorrow. Do you have to come along with us too?”

  “I’m afraid so, but at a discreet distance, I promise.”

  Zoe sipped her coffee. “I’ve actually started to have much more sympathy for the royal family and those connected with them. It must be a ghastly feeling, having no privacy in your own home and out of it.”

  “They’ve grown up with it, accepted it as part of their lives.”

  “It can’t be much fun for you, either. I mean, what about your home life? Do you have a wife, a family who misses you when you’re away?”

  “No. A lot of the chaps in this job tend to be single.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve got such a boring posting. I can hardly see international security agencies having my name on their hit list. I mean, nobody even knows about Art and me.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yes, well, it’ll stay that way for as long as I can make it,” she said firmly, then stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and do some stuff before I—we—pick up Jamie.”

  22

  Marcus spent Friday afternoon turning his own apartment upside down. He’d looked at the area of wall in the sitting room where he’d remembered the “builder” packing up his tools on Sunday evening, and it was indeed right next to his landline cable.

  Eventually, he too found a small, black button-shaped device, hidden in the underside lip of the coffee table. He removed it carefully, marveling at the minuscule electronics within.

  Joanna arrived after work and Marcus put his finger to his lips and showed her a jar of instant coffee, then gingerly picked out the bug he’d buried in the dark brown granules.

  “Now, darling, why don’t you take a shower before we go out to dinner?” he said loudly. “And when we get back, I’m going to paint you from head to toe in chocolate sauce and lick it off.”

  She grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper from her rucksack and wrote in bold letters, Can’t wait. Then with a raise of an eyebrow, she placed the pen and the note on the side table in full view of Marcus, before heading to the bathroom.

  * * *

  The following morning, after a quick coffee and toast that Marcus had brought on a tray into bed, they dressed and walked along the road to catch a bus to Welbeck Street. When they’d found seats, Marcus turned to her with a serious expression.

  “I know we’ve had some laughs with this bugging business, but it makes me feel sick that they’ve been listening to every word we’ve said.”

  “I know. Surely it’s illegal to tap phone lines and place bugs? Could we call the authorities and tell them?”

  “Hardly! The ‘authorities’ are those that placed the equipment there in the first place.”

  “Oh, Marcus, I should never have dragged you into this. It’s all my fault.”

  “No it isn’t, darling.” Marcus felt a pang of guilt surge through him. He looked down at Joanna’s head resting against his shoulder and wondered whether he should just tell her about his meeting with Ian, and the money he’d been given.

  No. He’d left it too late already. She’d only be furious with him—might end the relationship . . .

  And Marcus simply couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  * * *

  “Hi, you two, come in.” Zoe led them inside the house. “Shall we go straight off? I’m tingling to get to the shops.”

  “Absolutely,” Joanna replied as Zoe ushered them both through to the kitchen.

  “Jamie is upstairs in his room, playing on his computer. Should keep him happy for ages. I’ll just nip upstairs to say goodbye and get my coat, then we’ll be off.” As Marcus lit up a cigarette, Zoe frowned. “And please don’t smoke around Jamie.”

  “Christ! I’m doing you the favor,” Marcus said tetchily. “Don’t be too long, Jo. I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday than babysitting my nephew.” He winked at her.

  “And I can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday than shopping!” Joanna gave Marcus an affectionate kiss.

  “You owe me for this.”

  “Zoe, I . . .”

  Joanna heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned round and saw Simon staring at her from the kitchen door, the shock in his eyes mirroring her own.

  Zoe stood behind him in her coat.

  “Did I mention Simon was coming to stay, Marcus?”

  “Simon who?” Marcus asked.

  “Warburton. He’s a distant cousin of ours from Auckland in New Zealand, on Grandmother Grace’s side. He wrote and said he was coming to the UK and could he stay with us for a while. So,” said Zoe, “here he is.”

  Marcus frowned. “I didn’t know we had any distant cousins.”

  “Nor did I until James’s memorial service,” Zoe improvised hastily.

  Joanna was speechless as she watched Marcus shake hands with Simon.

  “Good to meet you, Simon. So, we’re distantly related?”

  “Yes, it seems that way.” Simon had recovered his cool.

  “Here for long?”

  “A while, yes.”

  “Good. Well, we must meet up for a boys’ night out at some point. I’ll show you the best places in town.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Come on then, Jo, let’s hit the road. Jo?” Zoe said.

  Joanna was still staring at Simon. Zoe watched her nervously.

  “Yes, I’m coming. Right. Bye, Simon. Bye, Marcus.” Joanna turned and followed Zoe out of the front door.

  Simon shrugged on the jacket he’d been h
olding. “I’m off too. I thought I might take in some sights. Good to meet you, Marcus.”

  Zoe and Joanna spent a delightful morning on the King’s Road, then caught a bus to Knightsbridge. They wandered round Harvey Nichols until their feet ached, then took refuge in the café on the top floor.

  “It’s on me, by the way,” said Zoe, as she grabbed a menu from the bar. “Any woman who is prepared to take on my brother deserves at least one free lunch!”

  “Thanks, I think,” Joanna said with a grin, as Zoe ordered two glasses of champagne.

  “You know, I think you’re really good for Marcus. He needs a steadying influence and he’s really fallen for you. If he asks you to marry him, please say yes, and then we can do this kind of thing regularly.”

  Joanna was touched by how eager Zoe was to make friends, and once again felt horribly guilty for any duplicitous thoughts she’d had of shopping Zoe to her newspaper. When their lunch arrived, Joanna tucked into her delicious open-faced sandwich, topped with Parma ham and peppery rocket. She noticed that Zoe only picked at hers.

  “Wasn’t it tragic about William Fielding?” Joanna mentioned as she sipped her champagne.

  “Dreadful. I went to visit him in hospital, you know, the day before he died.”

  “Yes, Marcus mentioned it.”

  “He was in a terrible state. It really upset me, especially as we’d had that chat about my grandfather only a few days before. He gave me a beautiful signet ring for safekeeping. Here, I’ll show you.” Zoe fumbled in the zip pocket of her handbag, produced the ring, and handed it to Joanna.

  “Wow, it’s so heavy.” Joanna turned the ring round in the palm of her hand and looked at the insignia. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Take it to his funeral next week and see if any of William’s relatives turn up, I suppose.” Zoe tucked the ring safely back in her handbag.

  “What about your film? Are they continuing with it?”

  “They reckon they’ve got just about enough in the can to work around William’s . . . absence. I’m heading back to Norfolk on Wednesday.”

  “And how long is your, er, friend Simon staying for?” Joanna asked lightly.

  “I’m not sure. He’s in London for a while and I’ve said he can stay as long as he wants. The house is so big, there’s ample room for the two of us.”

  “Right.” Joanna didn’t know what else to say.

  “I watched your face when you saw him at the house. You almost looked as though you recognized him. Do you know him?”

  “I . . .” Joanna blushed, unable to lie. “Yes.”

  Zoe visibly crumpled. “I knew you did. Where from?”

  “I’ve known Simon for most of my life. We virtually grew up together in Yorkshire. Not Auckland, I might add!”

  “Then I suppose you know that he isn’t in any way related to me?” Zoe said slowly.

  “Yes. Or if he is, he’s never mentioned it.”

  Zoe looked at Joanna uncertainly. “Are you aware of what he does for a living?”

  “He’s always said he was a pen-pusher for the civil service, which I suppose I never quite believed. He got a first from Cambridge and is very, very bright. Really, Zoe, you don’t have to explain. It’s obvious you have your reasons for making up Simon’s past for me and Marcus. I suppose it was just sod’s law that I happened to know him. I won’t say anything, I promise.”

  “Oh, Joanna”—Zoe fiddled with her napkin—“I’m so scared to trust anyone at the moment. And you less than most, being a journalist. Sorry,” she added quickly. “Yet I feel I want to tell you. If I don’t talk to someone about all this, I think I shall go mad.”

  “If it’s any help, I think I know,” Joanna said quietly.

  “You do? How? Nobody knows.” Zoe looked horrified. “Has it leaked to the press already?”

  “No, don’t worry,” Joanna was quick to reassure her. “Again, it was pure coincidence. I saw a . . . a man go into your house on Thursday evening.”

  “How come? Were you spying on me?”

  “No.” Joanna shook her head firmly. “I went to the dentist in Harley Street, felt faint afterward, and found myself in Welbeck Street while I was looking for a taxi. I was just about to knock and ask for a cup of sugary tea and a sit-down, when your front door opened.”

  Zoe frowned. “Please don’t lie to me, Joanna, I couldn’t take it. Are you sure someone at your newspaper hadn’t tipped you off?”

  “No! If there was a tip-off, they wouldn’t give it to a junior reporter on Pets and Gardens like me.”

  “True. Oh Christ, Jo.” Zoe looked straight at her. “Did you see who the man was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I suppose you can guess why Simon is living in my house?”

  “Some kind of protection, I presume?”

  “Yes. They—he—insisted on it.”

  “Well, you couldn’t ask for anyone better to look after you. Simon is quite the nicest man I know.”

  A glimmer of a smile crossed Zoe’s face. “Like that, is it? Should I tell Marcus he has a rival?”

  “God, no. We’re more like brother and sister. We really are just good friends.”

  “Speaking of Marcus, you haven’t said anything to him about what you saw on Thursday night, have you?” Zoe asked anxiously.

  “No. I’m actually very good at keeping secrets. Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it, but are the two of you . . . I mean, is it serious?”

  Zoe’s blue eyes filled with tears. “Very. Unfortunately.”

  “Why ‘unfortunately’?”

  “Because I want Art to be an accountant in Guildford—a married man even—but not . . . well, who he is.”

  “I understand completely, but you can’t help who you fall in love with, Zoe.”

  “No, but can you imagine how it’ll affect Jamie if the story gets out? I’m terrified.”

  “Yes. I was only thinking the other night that it will leak at some point, especially if you’re both serious about each other.”

  “I can hardly bear to think about it. The worst thing is, I just can’t seem to stop myself, however much I know I should for Jamie’s sake. Art and I . . . well, it’s always been this way.”

  “You’ve known each other for a long time?”

  “Yes. Years. I swear, Joanna, if I ever read about this conversation in your newspaper, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions,” Zoe said fiercely.

  “Zoe, I admit I would love to be the person to hand this scoop to my editor, but I’m a Yorkshire girl, and up there a person’s word is her bond. I won’t, okay?”

  “Okay. God, I need another drink.” Zoe signaled to the waiter and asked for two more glasses of champagne. “Well, as you seem to know most of it now anyway, and as I’m desperate to talk to someone, I might as well tell you the whole story . . .”

  * * *

  From his vantage point at a table behind a convenient pillar, Simon saw the two women were deep in conversation. He took the opportunity to go to the men’s room, and closing the toilet door, he dialed a number on his mobile.

  “It’s Warburton, sir.”

  “Yes.”

  “A problem this morning. I’m afraid Haslam arrived unexpectedly at Miss Harrison’s house. Obviously, she recognized me. If she questions me, what do I tell her?”

  “That you are working for the Royalty Protection Branch. Which, to all intents and purposes, you are. Did you place the bugs on arrival?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Any other news?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “All right, Warburton. Good luck.”

  * * *

  Marcus was watching a Wales-versus-Ireland rugby match on the television and working his way through Zoe’s supply of beer. It was a quarter past four and still the girls were not back. Thankfully, Jamie was ensconced in his room, playing some complicated computer game. Marcus had gone in briefly, but after Jamie had begun to explain about “magic coins
” he’d ducked out again. It wasn’t like he’d never made an effort over the years, he thought to himself. Chocolates, zoo trips . . . nothing seemed to have made an impression on Jamie, and eventually Marcus had given up. It was as if all his nephew’s love had been focused on Great-James, and his mother, and there wasn’t any room for him.

  “Hi, Uncle Marcus.” Jamie poked his head around the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. It’s your house.” Marcus managed a smile.

  Jamie walked into the room, and stood with his hands in his pockets facing the television. “Who’s winning?”

  “Ireland. Wales are getting hammered.”

  “Great-James once told me a story about Ireland.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes. He said he’d been to stay there once, in a place by the sea.”

  “Yeah, well, a lot of Ireland’s by the sea.”

  Jamie went to the window and tweaked the net curtains to see if there was any sign of his mother returning. “He told me where he went, showed me on the big atlas. It was a huge house, he said, surrounded by water, like it was sitting in the middle of the sea. And then he told me a story about how a young man fell in love with a beautiful Irish girl. I remember the story had a sad ending. I said to Great-James it sounded as if it would make a good film.”

  Marcus’s ears pricked up. He watched Jamie, who was still looking out of the window. “When did he tell you this?”

  “Just before he died.”

  Marcus stood up and went to the bookcase. His eyes ran along the titles until he found the old atlas. Turning the pages to Ireland, he laid the book on the coffee table. He beckoned Jamie to him.

  “Where did Great-James say this place was?”

  Jamie’s finger went immediately to the bottom of the map and pinpointed a location halfway along the southern Atlantic coast. “There. The house is in the bay. He said I would like it, that it was an enchanted place.”

  “Mmm.” Marcus closed the atlas and looked at Jamie. “Want something to eat?”

  “No, Mumma said she’d cook me something when she got back. She’s been a long time.”