advantages of money to tide her through, Mr Newman. She has her brains, but her brains are nothing without her willingness to use them, and right now I’m very much afraid that she might decide not to.’
‘What did you have in mind when you came to see me, Miss Hirst?’ The coldness had given way to something else, although for the life of her she didn’t know what. His expressions, she was fast realising, were difficult to read. He could be thinking anything. But at least he seemed prepared to hear her out.
‘I thought perhaps that you could have a word with your son, Mr Newman. I’ve tried talking to Lucy on numerous occasions, but she switches off.’
‘And you think that that would achieve anything?’
‘It would achieve more than what’s being achieved at the moment, Mr Newman. Right now, I’m more or less living on a battlefield. Occasionally there’s a cease-fire, but it never lasts very long, and they seem to be getting increasingly shorter.’
‘You still haven’t told me why you think my son’s responsible. Surely your daughter has lots of friends? How do you know that she isn’t being led astray by someone else?’
‘I know all of my daughter’s friends.’
‘All of them?’
‘To the best of my knowledge. I mean, obviously I have no definite proof that your son is behind Lucy’s change.’ In a court of law, she thought, I’d already have lost the case. ‘I haven’t overheard him forcing her to rebel, I haven’t found letters from him encouraging sabotage. But his name’s been on her lips ever since she started…ever since…this…problem arose.’
‘You make my son sound like some sort of subversive force to be reckoned with.’ He laughed shortly, as though the notion was utterly ridiculous. As though, she thought suddenly, he was vaguely contemptuous of his son. ‘Have you met him?’
‘No, but…’
‘Then you should reserve judgement until you do, Miss Hirst. What, incidentally, do you think is going on?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ Jessica admitted. ‘It’s just that your son seems to be very influential over my daughter’s life at the moment.’
‘Do you think they’re sleeping together?’ he asked flatly, and she threw him a long, resentful stare.
‘It’s a possibility, I suppose.’ Not one that she was willing to indulge in, but the truth had to be faced.
‘Would your daughter tell you if they were?’
‘I’m not sure. I’d like to think that she would, but I really just don’t know.’ It all sounded so vague. Impulse had made her take action, but these questions made her realise that what she felt was so instinctive and nebulous that she could hardly blame him if he refused to cooperate. Aside from which, he was a father, after all, and no one liked the implication that their child was a corrupting influence, least of all when the implication came from a perfect stranger.
‘Maybe,’ she suggested helpfully, ‘you could just tell Mark to back away a little, leave her to get on with her life…?’
‘He’s seventeen years old,’ he told her. ‘He’s hardly likely to relish me telling him what he can and can’t do.’
‘You’re his father!’
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’ll bow his head and listen to a word I say to him,’ he informed her tersely. ‘You’re an intelligent enough woman.’ He made it sound as though he had his suspicions about that. ‘I’m sure you know precisely what I’m trying to say.’
‘That you won’t do a damn thing to help. That you’ll allow your son to ruin Lucy’s life.’
“‘Ruin”’s taking it a bit far, isn’t it?’
‘No, it is not!’ This time it was Jessica’s turn to sit forward, her hands tightly clenched. She had first-hand experience of what happened when your life suddenly veered off at a tangent and you were left to pick up the pieces. Mark and her daughter might or might not be sleeping together, and if they weren’t then she was going to make damn sure that they didn’t. Accidents happened, and accidents could change the whole course of your life.
‘Look,’ she said, in a more controlled voice, ‘all I’m asking you to do is have a chat with your son—tell him to wait until Lucy gets a little older if he wants to see her.’
‘Maybe send him off to a boarding school somewhere just to make sure?’
‘I could do without your sarcasm, Mr Newman.’
‘And how do you intend to control your own daughter? How do you know that if Mark obliges and disappears from the scene altogether she isn’t going to find another focus of attention?’
It was a sensible enough question, but Jessica still resented him asking it. She stared at him speechlessly, and he looked back without flinching.
‘Well?’ he asked silkily.
‘Of course I don’t know!’ she exploded furiously. ‘But I prefer to cross that bridge when I get to it.’
They both sat back and regarded one another like adversaries sizing up the competition.
‘I’ll compromise with you,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ll talk to Mark, with you and your daughter present. That way there’ll be less of an atmosphere of confrontation and more an air of discussion.’
Jessica stared at him. She hadn’t banked on this solution being proffered, and she suspected, judging from the look on his face, that he had only suggested it on the spur of the moment, to get her off his back.
‘Would they agree to that?’ she asked finally, and he shrugged.
‘Possibly not.’
‘In which case, at least you can say that you tried…?’
‘That’s right,’ he said with staggering honesty.
‘Where do you want this meeting to take place?’ Jessica asked, making her mind up on the spot. What he offered was better than nothing.
‘I can reserve a private room at a restaurant in Hampstead. Thursday. Eight o’clock. It’s called Chez Jacques, and I know the owner.’
‘I can’t afford that restaurant, Mr Newman.’ She voiced the protest without even thinking about it, but she had read reviews of the place and the prices quoted were way out of her reach.
‘Fine.’ He shrugged and began standing up, and she glared at him.
‘All right.’
He sat back down and looked at her.
‘But we don’t make it an arranged meeting,’ she said, deciding that his manipulation had gone far enough. ‘I don’t want Lucy to think that I’ve been manoeuvring behind her back…’
‘Which you have been…’
She
