Believing the Lie - Elizabeth George [184]
Barbara thought Angelina might go on at that point, revealing her reasons for having left Azhar and Hadiyyah for her “trip to Canada” as it had long been called. But she didn’t do so. Instead she said, “I love Hari so much, you know. But sometimes I hate him in just the same way.” She smiled at the irony of her own statement. Then she seemed to shrug it off. She said, “Wait an hour then ring him on his mobile. Hari will do whatever he can to grant your favour.”
LAKE WINDERMERE
CUMBRIA
Manette had reckoned on the previous day that her father hadn’t been telling the truth about Vivienne Tully. She had also reckoned that emotional cowardice was what was preventing her from pushing the subject further. It was stupid, really, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t wanted to show any sign of weakness in her father’s presence. She was still infuriatingly that little girl who believed she could morph herself into the son Bernard Fairclough so wanted if she tried hard enough. Big boys didn’t cry, so neither would she. Thus anything that threatened a wellspring of emotion from her while her father stood there observing, evaluating, and dismissing her was something that had to be avoided.
But the subject wasn’t closed. How could it be? If Ian had been making monthly payments to Vivienne Tully for years, there was more than one reason that Manette had to get to the story behind that: There was also her mother to consider. Her mother, after all, owned Fairclough Industries. It had been her inheritance. Her father might have run it for decades with great success, but it was a private company with a small but powerful board of directors. Her mother and not her father was its chairman. For Valerie’s own father had been no fool. Just because Bernie Dexter had become Bernard Fairclough, this did not mean he had Fairclough blood running through his veins. So there was no way on earth that Valerie’s father would have risked Fairclough Industries falling into the hands of someone who was not a Fairclough born.
She’d talked everything over with Freddie. Thankfully, he’d not had a date with Sarah on the previous night, although he’d had a lengthy conversation with the woman, his hushed voice sounding amused and affectionate. Manette had gritted her teeth through this, and when her jaw had begun to ache and the conversation did not end, she’d gone into the sitting room and used the treadmill till the sweat ran down her chest and soaked her jersey. Finally, Freddie had wandered in, his face slightly flushed and the tips of his ears quite pink. She would have concluded they’d had telephone sex, but Manette didn’t see that as Freddie’s style.
She ran for another five minutes to make her workout look legitimate. Freddie mouthed wow in ostensible admiration for her endurance and took himself into the kitchen. There she found him bent over a book of crossword puzzles, looking thoughtful and tapping the non-business end of a Biro against his lip.
She said to him, “Not going out tonight?”
He said, “Giving it a bit of a rest.”
“The old prong tired, is he?”
Freddie blushed. “Oh no. He’s very up for the job.”
“Freddie McGhie!”
Freddie’s eyes got wide and then he caught the innuendo. “Lord. Didn’t mean it that way,” he laughed. “We decided— ”
“You and the lady or you and the prong?”
“Sarah and I decided to slow things just a bit. Seems that a relationship should have more to it than tearing off one’s clothes within ten minutes of hello.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Manette said without thinking.
“Are you? Why?”
“Oh, well… I…” She thought for a moment and came up with, “I don’t want you to make a mistake. To be hurt. You know.”
He gazed at her. She felt the heat climb her chest and ease its way up her neck. A change of subject was needed and Manette’s conversation with Bernard was just the ticket.
Freddie had listened in that Freddie way: giving her his complete attention. When she was finished, he said, “I think we both must talk to him at this point, Manette.”
Manette was surprised by the strength of her gratitude.