Thankfully, this was not one of Monika’s days at The Firs. Not that Joyce didn’t like the girl, although she did find her a bit hard going sometimes. Her English was excellent but Joyce’s attempts to get to know her and learn about the life she’d left behind in Kosovo had met a stone wall. In the end she’d given up trying to cultivate the sort of chatty camaraderie she’d had with Josie and simply left Monika to get on with her chores. Today, however, she wanted the house to herself.
She’d woken up with the beginning of a plan forming in her mind. Still wondering how to execute it, she wandered around the house, picking up and putting away the odd pair of trainers, or even the odd trainer, straightening the cushions, adjusting the curtains and generally pottering until nine thirty.
Then she made a call to Stephen Hardcastle at the office of Tanner-Max.
She had first met the tall handsome old Etonian during her first term at university. Stephen, four years older at twenty-two, was in the final year of his law degree. To Joyce, young for her age and still a virgin, he seemed urbane, sophisticated, exotic — he’d told her his Zimbabwean father was a tribal prince — and wildly attractive. In short, everything she aspired to be. He’d asked her out for a drink, and after several glasses of Prosecco, tipsier than she’d ever been in her life, she had allowed herself to be seduced by him. The following morning she’d had no regrets whatsoever about losing her virginity. Stephen had proved an experienced and sensitive lover, and virginity always was and, Joyce suspected, would always remain, a heavy burden to carry around a university campus.
Nonetheless it had come as a shock to learn that she was merely the latest in a long line of conquests. Stephen, she discovered, was a serial seducer with a penchant for deflowering virgins. Joyce had been hurt, but she dealt with it in true Tanner fashion. She had no intention of allowing her much longed-for university life to be destroyed by one brief encounter. Even such a significant one. Neither would she allow herself to show her true feelings. She merely drew back from Stephen, with minimum fuss, vowing to be more careful in future.
He hadn’t disappeared from her life though. After she took up with Charlie, Stephen had become a close friend of JC and had been best man at their wedding. Shortly before Mark was born he had joined Tanner-Max and his willingness to take on the extra workload had made it possible for Charlie to take extended paternity leave. Charlie had been blissfully unaware of their brief fling, and so far as Joyce was concerned it was ancient history. Until a week ago.
In the months since Charlie’s death, Stephen had been attentive and solicitous of her welfare, calling to see whether she needed anything and inviting her for lunch whenever she was in town. It was after one of these lunches that history had repeated itself. She’d had too much to drink, so Stephen drove her home afterwards and in a moment of lonely, alcohol-fuelled weakness she’d invited him into her house and into her bed.
Far from rekindling an old flame, it had left her feeling embarrassed, she reflected as she waited for Stephen to pick up his phone.
‘Joyce, how lovely to hear from you...’ he began.
He must have known that she would have received the letter sent from his office, and that it had more than likely prompted her call, but he still contrived to sound flirtatious.
‘This is business, strictly business, Stephen,’ she interrupted, determined to nip that in the bud straight away.
‘Of course,’ he said, his tone suddenly formal.
‘There are a number of things I need to speak to you about, as a matter of urgency,’ Joyce continued.
‘Ah, you got the letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry about the delay. Unforgivable. It must have arrived as things were beginning to get back to normal for you again.’
‘Things are never going to get back to normal, Stephen,’ she said with feeling.
‘No, of course not,’ responded Stephen. ‘Damned silly thing to say. I’m sorry...’
‘Stop apologizing, for goodness’ sake, Stephen — I didn’t call to remonstrate. I was hoping you might be able to drop by for an hour or so later so we can talk.’
‘I’d be delighted.’ He sounded rather too delighted in Joyce’s opinion. Hopeful even.
‘I need your professional advice,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ said Stephen. ‘Is it about the letter? I mean, I don’t know what’s in it, obviously, but—’
‘I should hope you don’t know what’s in the letter,’ said Joyce. ‘We may have been friends for a long time but you’re still the company secretary and the family solicitor. Ethics, and so on.’
She felt a little guilty, speaking to him in that way when it was quite possible that he’d done nothing to warrant her implied reprimand, but his response made light of it.
‘Ethics?’ he queried. ‘County to the East of London, isn’t it?’
‘Oh very funny,’ she said, her tone lighter now. ‘As for the letter, you’re right, it was a shock, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I would like to go through Charlie’s will again. And our financial arrangements. I owe it to the kids to make sure I know exactly what our position is.’
‘Pretty rosy, I should say, Joyce. Financially, at least. But we can discuss it if that would put your mind at rest. Do you want me to bring Gordon along?’
Gordon Hawkins was the company accountant. Like Stephen he also dealt with personal matters for the Tanner family.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d prefer to talk to you on your own first.’
They made an appointment for two o’ clock that afternoon. Joyce supposed that she was taking a risk in inviting him to her home; even though she’d made it clear she was seeking his professional advice, Stephen might think it was a pretext and the real motive was her eagerness to repeat their sexual encounter. A lapse, as she now thought of it, that she had been regretting even before the arrival of that earth-shattering letter.
It had been all too easy to seek solace with Stephen. He remained a good-looking and charismatic man, she’d always suspected he still found her attractive, and they had a history. But much as she’d enjoyed the sex, she hadn’t been ready to risk the kind of emotional entanglement she feared might follow. The last thing she wanted was to have to fend off an amorous Stephen, but she’d sooner that than run the risk of bumping into her father by going to the office. Not that her meeting with Stephen was likely to escape Henry’s ultra-sensitive radar for long; Henry’s employees, like his family, had been trained to inform him of their every move.
Stephen arrived on the dot. Did he look anxious or was it her imagination?
He leaned towards her. They had always greeted each other with a kiss. She made sure it was a light one. On the cheek. Then she led him into the kitchen. He dumped his briefcase on the table and began to remove papers. Charlie’s will, Joyce’s will, the details of their various bank accounts and shareholdings, including Charlie’s stake in Tanner-Max, which Joyce already knew had passed to Mark rather than to her — or would do, once a death certificate was issued. Henry was a firm believer in patrilineal inheritance — no female equality in the Tanner line of succession. Not that Joyce cared. She had never had the slightest desire to become involved in the family business.
Her request for an overview of her financial affairs was, in any case, merely a ruse. She’d decided that the best approach to adopt with Stephen would be to catch him off balance. If such a thing were possible.