was going to ask Becky too.’
Fay shook her head. ‘He’ll think you’ve gone crazy – and any self-respecting eighteen-year-old is going to tell you right where to get off. Anyway,’ she went on. ‘How would tracking him help him not to have a car crash? You could see that he was on the M20 but you wouldn’t know if he was whizzing along merrily listening to Drivetime or pulverised in a forty-car pile-up!’
‘But if he refused,’ – Charlotte was in no mood for logic – ‘it would show he didn’t want me to be able to see where he was going.’
‘If he refused,’ said Fay deliberately, ‘it would be because he didn’t want to go along with a wife who didn’t trust him or want to allow him any personal freedom! How would you feel if Roger came home and said he wanted to track you?’
‘I’M not doing anything wrong!’ said Charlotte heatedly. ‘He’d say no because then if he goes to this Marion’s house, he’d know I’d be able to see which road she lived in. I’ve got a feeling it’s in Maidstone.’
‘Why?’
‘There was a receipt for a coffee from the Wealdstone Hotel there. Look!’ Charlotte got up and rummaged in her handbag. She slapped a small piece of paper on the table between them.
Fay looked at it, unimpressed. ‘So? He could have been waiting for someone – or killing time before a meeting. It’s not even two coffees, for God’s sake.’
‘Or waiting for her husband to go out before he went round …’
Fay stood up. The conversation was making her feel sick and shaky inside. She spoke firmly. ‘This is crazy. You haven’t got a shred of evidence to support that there even is ‘this Marion’. Why don’t you simply ask him where he was yesterday afternoon at 3 p.m.?’
Charlotte scowled. ‘I did, of course,’ she said crossly. ‘He said he’d gone over to Arnold Greaves – it’s a company they’re buying. But if that were true, Lib would have known.’
‘Not if he popped in on the way somewhere else. Just to drop off some paperwork–’
Charlotte had topped up her own cup and held the pot towards Fay. She looked hard at her friend. ‘Why are you defending him?’
Fay waved the coffee away. ‘I am trying to be the voice of reason. Somebody needs to be!’
Charlotte sat back down and picked up her iPad. ‘Well, if you won’t help me do the phone, I will have to go to plan B. I’ve been looking at private detectives to get him followed. They can put some sort of tracking device on the car or follow them in person. But I can only do it on Wednesdays to start with, cos the one I spoke to wanted nine hundred quid a pop.’
Fay who had been heading for the door, spun back round, alarm flooding her. ‘OH for God’s sake! That’s ridiculous. What ARE you thinking of? I’ll follow him myself if you’re going to spend that.’
Charlotte leant forward. ‘Would you? Really?’
Fay walked back towards the table and leant both hands on it, looking straight at Charlotte. ‘If I did, it would only be because you were getting so upset – not because I think it is justified in any shape or form. And because I can’t stand by and let you waste money like that on some shyster who saw you coming.’
‘He’s been in the game for thirty years,’ said Charlotte calmly. ‘He was very nice actually. He’s called Pete and he specialises in philandering spouses. I told him everything and he said it did sound as if Roger had something going on.’
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