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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Those Left Behind - 13. Childish questions, and some answers

Ludo woke up early and ended up rushing for the bathroom. Arthur found him retching over the toilet. Finally, it finished, and they ended up sitting in the kitchen with cups of mint tea.

“You Ok now?”

“Think so. Sorry about that. Can’t think what happened.”

“Well, last night’s dinner was harmless enough.”

“Yea. Reckon it might be anxiety.”

“About Jackie?”

“The whole thing. If the police are wrong then I’m still in the frame for the fraud, and if Graham Marcus is right then Jackie was planning on hanging it all on me. That’s someone who I lived with for 12 years, who I’ve slept with, and I hadn’t any idea.”

Arthur simply held his hand, what the hell do you say.

“And what do I tell Damian, what his Mother was doing. And what was she planning to do about Damian?”

“Take him with her, you locked up pro tem, she could take him out the country. Quite legal.”

Ludo stared at Arthur, “You reckon. She’d just take him. Shit. He wouldn’t have liked that. Jesus. What a nightmare.”

Clearly, word was somehow getting round, and friends kept phoning. Except that Ludo had few friends, his life had been family and work. But then Jackie had been the same, the people who phoned were work mates, business contacts mainly and hardly a friend in sight. And most seemed to be less wanting to offer them support than find out what was going on. After a couple of calls, Ludo almost felt inclined to follow Damian’s lead and start inventing. Perhaps he should tell everyone that she was in Japan.

“This is going to hit the papers properly, sooner or later. Sorry to be a pain but they are going to love it.”

“I know, perhaps we should disappear, go away.”

Arthur looked at him, wide eyed, “I suspect DS Marcus would have something to say about that!”

“Shit. Yes. So, stuck here.”

Arthur grinned, “Stay at home, living on take-aways?”

“Fuck that?”

***

“Does Dad know where Mum is?”

“No, the policeman, DS Marcus, says they are still looking for her.”

“She’s done something bad?”

“It looks like it.”

Arthur gulped, this was supposed to be the quiet walk from school, “Something bad has happened. Someone has stolen a lot of money. In a very clever way.”

“Not a bank robbery?”

“Nothing like that. Someone was doing clever things with computers.”

“And Mum did that?”

“The police think so. But there is another man too.”

“Is he Mum’s boyfriend?”

Arthur laughed, “I don’t think so. He is old.”

“Oh. Will she go to jail?”

“If they catch her, she might do. She has disappeared with all the money.”

“Oh. Will I have to go with her?”

“No”, Arthur grasped the boy’s hand. “You will be staying with your Dad, there’s no question of that.”

Damian nodded, “Will people know?”

“Eventually. It will be in the papers. There’ll be reporters.”

“Like that man who phoned and the men outside the house.”

“Like them and worse.”

“Can we go away?”

Arthur laughed, “I think the police might want your Dad around.”

“Oh. Do they think Dad has done something wrong?”

“They don’t know. Husbands and wives are often close, and it’s difficult to show that they aren’t close.”

“Oh.”

“But the police have found things, which show your Dad is in the clear.”

“Oh good. What?”

He smiled, “That’s secret for the moment.”

“Oh.”

***

The doorbell went. Ludo sighed and Arthur got up to see who it was. It had got to the point where they dreaded such things; you never knew what it might bode. Graham Marcus appeared. He stood uneasily, staring at the two men.

“Sorry to disturb you so late, but I wanted to update you.”

The room looked remarkably romantic, no TV, music that had been switched off when DS Marcus arrived, and a couple of low lights and, of course, glasses of wine. Graham Marcus accepted a glass of wine.

He grinned, “Officially, I’m not on duty. So, I can have one. But I wanted to keep you in the loop.” He paused, staring into the gloom. “We had our eye on you from the beginning. You always suspect the husband or wife. Your problem is that it is difficult to prove absence. And to be frank, your wife’s behaviour hasn’t helped.” The two stared at him, where was this going? “The boss wanted to keep you on a light rein and see what happened. And me, being the queer on the team, got the job.” He smiled at their reaction. “Our lot are not too bad, not dinosaurs but your relationship is unusual enough to cause raised eyebrows. So”, he shrugged.

“We stood out.”

“Yes. But with those faked images.”

“So, they are faked?”

“No doubt of it. The tech people have done wonders.” He smiled, grimly, “Of course, there are a lot of assumptions being made about who did the fakery, but we’ll be working on that.”

“What would they have achieved?”

“Sorry?”

“If they’d succeeded, and you found the pictures and other information.”

“Hmm. Tricky point. Your wife and her colleague disappear, leaving a trail pointing to you, at home, and Molly, apparently your friend.”

“Would you have believed it?”

“At first, understandably. Time enough for your wife to get away, and with the boy, I’m afraid.”

“That’s what we assumed.”

“But there’d be some digging, find other proof, CCTV, paper trails and stuff.”

“By which time they’d be a long way away.”

He shrugged, “May be. We’ve identified the photos.”

“Those snaps of Jackie.”

“Yes, and the French police reckon they’ve had a sighting.”

“So?”

“It’s up to them, and the SFO. And those old bank statements you found?”

“The ones Damian had drawn on?”

Graham Marcus smiled, “Yeah. They were helpful. The accounts are dormant, but a trail led our guys to the right accounts. There’s been movement. Guess where?” They looked at him, he smiled, “Nearest big town to the peak in the photo.”

“You mean…”

“We’re closing in.” He stood up, “I’d love to stay, and perhaps when all this is over, I may?”, he looked at them enquiringly and they both nodded. “But it’s been a long day and I’d best be getting going.”

“He seemed almost human.”

“And rather cute.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Well, you’re the one whose been going on about his dick.”

Ludo laughed, “I never.”

“That guy’s packing it. If I remember.”

“Ok. But he seemed OK.”

“Part of the scheme, get the gay policeman to keep an eye on us nicely, get friendly.”

“You reckon?”

“Until they get the case cleared up, nothing’s clear cut.”

“Cleared up?”

“Find Jackie, find the money.”

“Find the trail from one to the other.”

“Yep.”

***

“Dad, wake up, the men are back. There’s more of them.”

Ludo, bleary eyed, pulled on some cotton pants and allowed the boys to lead him, closely followed by Arthur. There were a small group, unimpressive looking. Ludo was half-relieved, half-disappointed.

“Rather a sad-looking bunch, really”, Arthur’s voice came from over his shoulder. They laughed, but nervously. It may be anything. But…

A quick bit of Googling found it; the story had hit the headlines. Jackie and Andreas had been arrested by the French police. There was plenty of rubbish, not much information and a terrible photo of Ludo. They got the boys dressed for school but thought better of it. The boys were delighted to be missing school, and when they phoned, the school sounded relieved.

“Do we go and talked to them?”

“No way. All you have is no comment.”

“But…”

“Look Ludo, you didn’t know anything, if you go out and explain that you’ll either come over as lying or an idiot.”

“Shit. Do you think the police’ll release the information about the photos?”

“Why would they? It’ll all come out at the trial.”

“Whenever that will be.”

Arthur shrugged and then hugged Ludo.

“We’re in limbo, aren’t we?”

“Yep.”

***

The boys hadn’t gone to school, but Ludo was trying to do some work. And there was something he needed to do. Best get it over with first, so he took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He had a good relationship with Alastair, the head of department, but the current news was straining things much further than Ludo might have ever envisioned. Still, he and Alastair went back a long way, and had ended up back in the same team, by accident.

“Ludovic? You are in the news.”

“Yes. And it can only get worse.”

“Indeed?”

“There’s more information, when it comes out it’ll make me look an idiot, at best.”

“The complaisant husband?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s never that simple, is it? But the press is never fussy. Thank you for being brave enough to phone and not just disappearing. Keep in touch with Philippa, and make sure you keep a low profile. No chatting to clients, even if they are friendly.”

“Of, course.”

“There’s one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“Not strictly business. What are you doing about the press?”

“I… Nothing.”

“I have a suggestion. And it’s just that. My nephew is just out of college, he’s a journalist, he’s gay. If you let him interview you, you have complete control over the article. I promise you that. He’s keen, and it’s a great story, told the right way.”

As soon as the call ended Ludo gave up on any semblance of work and went to find Arthur, who seemed equally as restless, willing to be interrupted. Ludo explained Alastair’s idea.

“What do you think?”

“I know he’s your boss, but do you trust Alastair beyond the simple manager relationship?”

“Oh, we go way back. We started off together straight out of Uni, both newbies at the same firm. Alastair had manager written all over him from early on.”

“Whereas you?” Arthur smiled.

“Was a grunt, and happy to be so. We ended up at different firms, following different paths but stayed in touch. The odd drink in town, that sort of thing. Then suddenly, Alastair pitched up in charge of our department.”

“And it works?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t presume on our relationship, and I don’t either. So, longwinded answer, yes, I trust him.”

“Then we have to assume that the nephew is at least human.”

“For a journo.”

“For a journalist. And in some way competent. And if we don’t tell our story, your story, to a sympathetic ear…”

“I’ll come over as the idiot that sat there whilst his wife framed him for embezzling millions.” And then Ludo burst into tears. They were still hugging when the boys came back downstairs.

Damian, amazingly, still felt he should go to school, that Arthur could take them in the car and that once there he would have no qualms about standing up for his Dad.

“Have kids been bullying you already?”

Damian pulled his mouth into a line, generally truthful he often resorted to silence rather than lying. Then he gave a little nod, “But I ignored them, like you told me to. Adam and I just went off.”

“Ok. You’re not to pretend, you understand. If the kids are nasty to you because of what’s going on with me and your Mum, then I need to know. OK?”

Damian nodded.

“This is our problem, all of us. And we share it and help each other. Right?”

“Arthur and Adam too?”

“Yes, they are here to help us.”

“They’re family?”

“Yes, Arthur and Adam are family.”

“When”, Damian paused. “When the reporters go away and Mum’s you know.”

“Prosecuted?”

“Yeah. Will Arthur and Adam stay?” Damian looked at his Father.

Ludo had squatted down, so they were eye to eye, “Arthur and I haven’t discussed it, but I think so. We like having each other around.”

“Will you get married?”

Ludo stood up and laughed, “Hold your horses, I’m still married to your Mum. But Arthur isn’t going anywhere, I promise. OK?”

Damian nodded. Shit, that was another thing to think about.

“Know any good divorce lawyers?”

Arthur stared at him. “What brought this on?” They were having a mid-morning coffee, attempting to feel like it was a regular day.

“Damian asked if we were getting married?”

“And are we?” Arthur grinned at him.

Ludo gulped, “I should go down on one knee. Sod that”, he took Arthur’s hands, “I know it’s a bit soon, but I’d like for us to be married.”

Arthur shrieked in a high, affected voice, “Lawks sir, you know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” But he kissed Ludo, then in a quieter, more normal voice continued, “Yes. I can think of nothing better, just not yet.”

“When things get quieter, I hope.”

Arthur smiled wickedly, “Give us chance to plan a big wedding, 100s of guests, all the family.” Arthur’s smile broadened at Ludo’s alarm. “Don’t worry. After all, how much family do you have?”

Ludo frowned, “Couple of distant cousins perhaps?”

“Ditto. So, I think something small.”

“Thank goodness. And I’ve got to get divorced first!”

DS Marcus called round briefly, and he simply confirmed the news. Jackie and Andreas had been apprehended by the French police. They would need to be extradited; the prosecution would be in the UK.

“Will she be released?”

DS Marcus pulled a face. “Unlikely, but possible. The Crown Prosecution Service will argue she’s a flight risk, there might be more money squirrelled away. Judge might set bail high. Is it a problem, her being on bail?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I don’t think I want to see her again.”

“Will you be wanting to be in contact with her?”

“No, I think that I’ll do everything through a solicitor.”

“Very wise, sir.”

As DS Marcus was leaving, he turned back to them, “I am sorry if we seemed heavy handed at times but it’s just that…”

“In a lot of cases, the husband would be in on it.”

“Yes. When things have calmed down, perhaps I could take you up on that offer of a meal?”

“That would be great.”

As Ludo closed the door on the policeman, he wondered, and Arthur voiced his very thoughts. “Did we offer a meal?”

“I think he might have invited himself?”

Arthur shrugged, “Seems nice enough, a gay policeman. Maybe you’ll get to see what’s in that package after all.”

They were still wrestling when the phone went. Ludo’s solicitor calling back.

Frances McSweeney had a warm, mellow voice, cultured and very home counties, and certainly without the Scots twang that Ludo had imagined. They’d never met. Her predecessor had done the conveyancing on the house, but the firm held both his and Jackie’s wills, and they were still technically his and Jackie’s solicitors.

“Mr Wilson, what can I do for you? My secretary said it was urgent.”

“I don’t know whether you’ve seen the news?” Ludo explained briefly what was going on.

“This is a bit out of my field, you understand. I mainly do conveyancing and testamentary provision.”

“Well, if you think…”

“No, no. As far as I can see, what you need is sensible legal advice, and I have colleagues with other specialities that we can talk to.”

“Thank you.”

“Look, I think we need to talk properly. I have meetings till six o’clock, how about I call on you after that?”

It was a day of phone calls and business. Ludo contacted Alastair’s journalist nephew, who sounded young and eager, and would come round first thing tomorrow. Then there was the locksmith; that was Arthur’s idea and Ludo reflected that he ought to have thought of it before. He wondered if they ought to rent storage for Jackie’s stuff, but it could stay in the garage for the moment. Time enough to do that when they had more news, after all if she got out on bail, she’d want to fetch it.

And Ludo went cold at the sheer idea of having to face her. What do you say, thanks a bunch for fucking up my and your son’s lives, or simply be gracious and ignore the hurt. His instinct was the latter, it was the way he’d been brought up, not to make too much of a fuss. But this time, faced with Jackie’s apparent callousness, could he bring that off?

And then there was Damian. When the boy got older, surely Damian would want to have the full story, and to explain everything to him meant Ludo talking to Jackie now. That was assuming she’d talk to him and would deign to explain her behaviour. Explaining that sort of thing had never been her strong point.

***

“This is becoming a habit.”

Lesley grinned, “Some habits are good to have.”

The men were sitting at the coffee shop with Lesley; the boys delighted to be allowed a treat, were sitting on the churchyard wall eating their ice creams. They had brought Lesley up to date with events, the soap opera as it was starting to feel like.

“I keep asking myself where it all took a wrong turn. I mean Jackie and I were such an ordinary couple.”

Lesley stared at him, “So says a man who’s jumped into bed with his best friend. Male best friend.”

“But…”

She held her hands up, “Sorry, that was a bit rough. But most couples are out of the ordinary, you just don’t see it.” She looked round at the other customers and the shoppers walking in and out of Snow Alley. “Ever wonder how many of these are cheating, how many of these guys or gals are secretly bi, how many are paedos, how many have their fingers in the till.”

Arthur shook his head, “More than we suspect, I guess.”

“Yep. It’s just, lovey, that you’ve rather hit the jackpot.”

“Or the opposite.”

“Yep. So, stop moping and worrying what might have been. Instead, you need to get organised. Have you got a solicitor?”

“We’ve contacted the one who did our conveyancing. She’s said she can talk to colleagues who deal in criminal stuff and make sure we get the right advice. She’s coming over tonight.”

“Good, she sounds as if she’s got her head screwed on right. Now the press, are they bothering you?”

“Up to a point. We’ve not said a thing to them.”

Arthur smiled, “Except for Damian telling one over the phone that his Mother was in Japan on business.”

Lesley shook her head, “That kid. But you need to have a plan, or they’ll be all over you. If not now, then soon. Once the juicy details are public.”

“Thing is Alastair, my head of department, has a nephew who’s a journalist. Junior, trying to make it. We’re meeting with him tomorrow and he’s said we get final say so in the article.”

“Where’s he going to put it?”

“He’s talking about The Guardian or The Observer.”

“Figures. Look, I don’t trust any of that lot, but if you stay silent then they’ll invent stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s what we thought.”

“And it’s one hell of a story.”

“Handled right.”

“Well, make sure he does handle it right.” Her eyes bored into Ludo, “You used to be pretty good at writing copy, hope you haven’t got sloppy. You need to make sure that what he writes tells the right story. Sod the truth, it’s all about the story. Your story.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She grinned, “Sorry, I’ll come off my high horse.” She looked over at the two boys, sitting happily, apparently without a care in the world. “How is Damian?”

They stared at each other, “A bit wound up. And it keeps getting worse. He likes having Arthur and Adam around, he wants me to get married to Arthur and make it permanent.”

“Hang on, did I miss the divorce?”

“I explained that, but he’s quite set.”

She wrinkled her mouth, “Well, it’s good he’s supportive. But it’s not a good situation.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You thought of getting someone to talk to him?”

“A shrink, you mean?”

“No, just someone who knows how to get children to talk. That’s what he needs to do, talk. And not to you. Sort of substitute Gran.”

“And? You know anyone?”

“I’ll ask Dot, she chats to people at work, you never know.”

Arthur smiled, “It’s that or look in the Yellow Pages.”

They laughed, “That sounds a bit desperate.”

“I think we are.”

Arthur looked at Lesley, “It really has started to feel like a soap opera. No sooner is one question answered than there’s another twist, another question.”

Lesley shook her head, “As I’ve said, I’m here to talk even if we don’t have the answers. The policeman, is he sound?”

Ludo shrugged and it was Arthur who answered, “He seems sympathetic but that might be an act. He’s gay.”

“Not necessarily a bad sign, but there are shit gays too. Don’t take too much for granted.”

“Ok”

“And always cover your arse.”

Ludo smiled, recalling past moments when she’d said that.

***

In person, Frances McSweeney was slim, elegant, and surprisingly petite, in quite a sensible skirt but with a very girlie blouse. Her manner, however, was business-like and crisp. Ludo introduced everybody, and then Arthur took the boys upstairs. They were agog but tried to be on their best behaviour. Finally, Frances, Ludo and Arthur sat down in the lounge, Frances having refused a drink but having accepted a water. At her request, Ludo first of all filled in some background.

“To re-cap, you’ve not had contact with Mrs Wilson since you had the argument.”

“Yes, I wrote down a summary of the argument afterwards, it seemed so odd.

“Good, I see; that will be needed later. You’ve had no other contact?”

“Damian had a postcard.”

Ludo showed her the images of it on his phone and explained the significance of the Arboretum.

She nodded, “It seems to me that there are three main issues.” She delineated them on her fingers. “First, and most important the matter of a statement to the press. Second, you need legal representation in case of complications with the case. Third, you wish to initiate divorce proceedings.”

Ludo nodded his agreement, “Alastair, my head of department at work has a nephew who is a journalist. Alastair has suggested we do an interview with the journalist, we’d have control over the resulting article, and he’d get it published.”

“I see.” She sounded doubtful.

“At the moment the press doesn’t know a lot and they are making things up.”

“I see. You will have final say-so in the article.”

“Yes”

She nodded, “I would get that in writing, and I would be happy to glance over the final copy, just in case.”

“Thank you.”

Frances then reached into a folio case that she was carrying. “I managed to have a quick chat today with a criminal colleague, and my secretary has drafted a statement. Let me know what you think, and if you wish we can add that there will be a fuller statement later.”

With that, she was gone, promising to be in contact with details of how she would recommend proceeding in the criminal and divorce matters.

Copyright © 2024 Robert Hugill; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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