Chapter 17

After Beatrice left, I went back up to my office on the third floor of the modern, stylish building. The room I’d rented was about eleven feet by fourteen or thereabouts. Just over a hundred and fifty square feet, so not big by any stretch of the imagination. But big enough for my needs. There was a large picture window opposite the entrance, which provided plenty of light. It was just a shame that the view wasn’t up to much. The building was on the riverbank but my office overlooked the car park. The river view was on the other side and the rent was more expensive.

I stood by the window and stared out at the parked cars, not really looking at anything in particular. I watched a two-seat sports car leave. Was that Bea? It was just the kind of car she’d drive—expensive and impractical.

If it was my ex-wife, it would have meant that she’d sat in the car for a few minutes before leaving. Why would she do that? To make a phone call perhaps? But who to? To our Mutual Friend? Why?

As I stood there, more and more questions ran through my head. Why now? Why did she contact me now? She said her husband had died last month, by which I assume she meant March. It was nearly the end of April now. Why wait so long? Was it just a coincidence that it was right after the official launch of my porn career? More to the point was it a coincidence that she’d contacted me shortly after our Mutual Friend found out I was his business partner (in a roundabout sort of way).

Although, if what she’d said was right, then Jamie Clark had been keeping tabs on me for a long time and I wasn’t sure I liked that idea.

No, I hated that idea.

And if it was true—I had no reason to doubt it other than an innate distrust of Bea—then why had he never tried to contact me directly? Sure, he’d had his lawyer reach out, but ... We’d been friends, why not contact me as an old friend?

I knew Beatrice well. Too well. That was why I was relieved when we finally divorced. She had a reason behind everything she did. Everything. And, frankly, I didn’t trust her. Not one bit.

I watched the sports car drive up the road until it turned left at the T-junction, taking it towards the town centre, then turned from the window and sat behind my desk. At somewhat of a loss of what to do, I checked the website’s analytics page again. It hadn’t changed much since I’d checked it that morning. That wasn’t a surprise. Watching porn isn’t typically a mid-morning pursuit.

I picked up the documents Bea had given me and looked them over once more. I shook my head then picked up my phone and pulled Will Brown’s number out of the memory. It rang five times before he picked it up.

“Bobby. How can I help?” Ah, don’t you love Caller ID?

“Are you busy? Do you have five or ten minutes to discuss a possible contentious probate matter?”

“Interesting. I thought you’d semi-retired. Who’s died? Not one of our mutual clients I hope.”

“No. It’s no-one you know. Well, you may have heard of him, I suppose. Barrington Smyth-Ryland. Lord Smyth-Ryland.”

“The farming magnate? Advised the last government?”

“That’s the one. His current wife is my ex-wife.”

“Ah. I see.”

“And she thinks she’s not been awarded her fair share of his estate.” I spent a few minutes going over my meeting with Bea and the contents of the Will. “So, what do you think?”

“I think I’d need to see a copy of the Will and any other supporting evidence she has, but from the way you describe it, I think she’d have a hard time getting more than she already has. He’s clearly provided for her. Anything more is just greed.”

“You’ve met my ex-wife then,” I said.

Will laughed. “No. But I know the type. I’ve seen it far too many times. There are two certainties in this world, Bob. Death and Taxes. And both bring out the worst in people.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Send me a copy of the Will and Beatrice’s contact details. I’ll set up a meeting. Usual referral fee if anything comes of it?”

“No. No, it’s fine. You’re doing me a favour just getting her off my back.”

“Perhaps I should charge you a fee for taking her on then.”

“If you did, I’d gladly pay it if it kept her out of my life. Nice to speak to you, Will.”

“You too, Bobby. Take care. We’ll speak again soon.”

I went home after that. I still had more work to do on various matters related to my earlier meetings, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. I wasn’t booked for any acting work until the following week—at least, I hadn’t been when I left home, but who knows what my booking committee had been up to while I’d been away—so I could always come back to the office the next morning and finish it.

I was subdued all evening. Both Emma and Mel picked up on it right away, although neither pressed me on it. They both knew I’d talk to them in my own good time if it was important.

But was it important? That was the question. And I spent most of the evening thinking it over. After sitting down as a family to eat dinner, Dom and Amber went out to a nightclub—something they did at least once or twice a week—while I settled in front of the television with the other two women in my life. Mel often went with Dom and Amber but had chosen instead to spend some time at home after spending so much time with Ashley recently. She was sitting in one of the two armchairs while I sat next to Emma on the sofa. I had my arm around her as she cuddled up beside me with her legs tucked underneath her. The pair of them chatted as I stared at the TV, pretending to watch but not really paying attention, thinking instead of my ex-wife and her reasons for coming to—

“Bobby? Earth to Bobby. Come in, Bobby, are you reading me? Over?”

I looked over at Mel who grinned.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Told you,” said Mel.

Emma sat up straight, took my arm from around her shoulders and stared at me. “You haven’t listened to a word either of us has said in the past half an hour, have you?”

I winced. “No. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “What’s up with you? You’ve been weird ever since you got back from the office. Is something wrong? Are the numbers not adding up? Not hitting your projections?”

“No. No. Nothing like that. The numbers are fine. It’s just...”

My girls waited.

But I didn’t continue.

“Just what?” Mel prompted.

I took a deep breath and looked first at Mel, then at Emma. Speaking directly to my wife, I said, “You know that potential new client you said I should see. Just in case?”

Emma nodded.

“It was Beatrice.”

Emma’s face showed no emotion. “Your Beatrice?”

I shrugged. “She’s not really mine. Not for a long time now, thank God. But yes.”

“And what did she want?”

“Who’s Beatrice?” Mel asked.

“Advice,” I said, ignoring Mel.

“About what?”

“Who’s Beatrice?”

I looked across and Mel and said, “My ex-wife.”

She looked shocked. “Oh. Right.”

Emma still displayed no emotion. “What kind of advice, Bobby?”

“Probate. Contesting a Will.” I paused. “Her...” I chuckled. “I was going to say her current husband, but that would be inaccurate since he died last month.”

Emma raised an eyebrow and I quickly explained the reason Bea had given for coming to see me.

“Okay...” Emma said when I’d finished. “That explains things.” She paused. “You don’t trust her. Do you.” It wasn’t a question, but I shook my head in answer anyway. “And you think it’s more than a coincidence that she’s come to see you now, with everything that’s going on.” Again, it wasn’t a question, but I nodded. “I’ll speak to Will tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “He should have been in contact with Beatrice by then and he’ll tell me what he thinks. Then I’ll speak to her myself. Okay?” I nodded. “I have no intention of letting that woman into our lives, Bobby.”

“Me neither.”

“Good. And since you didn’t tell her that, I’ll damn well make it clear.” She stood up. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Emma nodded then said, “Mel, while I’m making a drink, remind this man of ours who the second-best cock-sucker he’s ever met is, will you.”

“Second best?” Mel said.

Emma grinned. “Yes. I’ll remind him who’s the best when we go to bed tonight.”

I came in Mel’s mouth just as Emma came back into the lounge carrying a tray with three mugs and a plate of chocolate biscuits on it. She put the tray on the table and Mel tucked my deflating penis back into my trousers and retook her seat in the armchair. Emma offered me the plate and I took a biscuit before she offered it to Mel then took one for herself.

“Now,” she said, “Since you weren’t listening, I guess we’ll have to recap. Mel asked you a question.”

I looked over at Mel who grinned mischievously.

“What was your notch count? You know, before?”

“Before?”

“Before porn,” Mel said.

“Actually, before you fucked my daughter and her best friend,” Emma said with a smirk.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question,” Mel said.

“I don’t—Let me think ... There was Mary. My first.”

“Where? When?” Mel said.

“We were fourteen. In my room, while my parents were at a party,” I said. “Then there was three—no, four, before university—”

“Lost count before you were even eighteen?” Mel grinned again.

“No,” I said. “Alice, Becky and Carole all counted, but Debbie ... Well, it was forgettable. We were both smashed out of our skulls at a party and it was over before it really began. I’ve always preferred not to count it, but for this exercise—”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about at uni?”

“Erm ... A few.”