Too Charming (18 page)

Chapter Nineteen

She was knee deep in witness statements, but Megan knew she had to make this phone call.
At least if she wanted any chance of seeing Scott again, other than on the inside of a court. And she did. There was no point in lying to herself. She was hooked. She tried his chambers first, but was told by the clerk that Scott was working from home today. Megan had a pretty good idea why, and tried his mobile instead.

‘Armstrong.’

She wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing his voice. If it would ever fail to make her pulse race. ‘It’s Megan. I was phoning to find out how your mum is.’

For a few seconds there was silence. Megan was beginning to wonder if he was going to put the phone down on her when he finally replied. ‘She’s fine, thank you.’

Well, at least he was talking to her, sort of, though his short reply didn’t bode well for a lengthy conversation. ‘Good.’ Neither did her even shorter response. Come on Megan, this isn’t that difficult, she berated herself. A few days ago they’d been able to talk to each other for hours. They were still the same people. ‘Have you found anything further about where she’s been living?’ She remembered seeing how cut up he’d been when he’d admitted not knowing where his mother was. It had been after their day at the beach. Just before they’d made love for the first time. Biting her lip she raised her eyes to the ceiling. That wasn’t something she should be thinking about right now.

‘No.’

His replies were getting shorter and cooler. Not really the answers of a man who was dying to make up with her. ‘Scott, I know you’ve got your mum staying with you at the moment, but how about I come over and cook you both a meal? I’m not bad, you know. I could probably manage to make an entire dinner without any of us getting food poisoning.’

There was a heavy sigh. ‘Now’s not a good time, Megan. In fact, I was thinking …’ Silence. A faint scratching sound that she guessed was
him raking a hand across his chin.  Unshaven, if the noise was anything to go by. ‘Perhaps we should cool it for a while. Go our separate ways. Give us both time to think about things.’

‘What things?’ she blurted, stunned by his statement.

‘About the fact that you hate what I do, for starters.’

A sudden chill swept through her. She should have phoned him earlier, before all this mess with his mother made everything so much more complicated. ‘Sometimes I don’t understand it, that’s all.’

‘That wasn’t the impression I got the other day.’ Another sigh. This time even deeper. ‘Look, we’ve both got a lot going on in our lives right now. Neither of us needs any further complications.’

‘Is this your way of saying you’ve had enough?’ she interrupted, her tone unnaturally clipped. ‘Thanks, but I’ve had what I wanted, and now I’m looking to get out?’

‘No,’ he replied sharply. ‘Don’t twist my words—’

‘I’m not the one who’s clever with words,
Mr Barrister. You are. But I am good at reading the signs. Right now they seem to be saying go away.’

A third sigh. ‘Look, Megan—’

’Do you want me to go away, or not?’

‘Yes.’ The single word bounced through her brain, causing pain wherever it touched. ‘But not a permanent yes,’ he added quickly. ‘Just until things settle down.’

‘I see.’ But she didn’t. Either he wanted her in his life or he didn’t. He seemed to be saying he didn’t. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you around then.’

After putting down the phone she picked up her handbag and walked slowly towards the ladies. It was only when she shut the door on the cubicle that she sunk on
to the toilet seat and allowed herself to cry.

For several minutes she wallowed in self-pity, weeping tears for the woman who’d finally let another man in, only to find he was already bored of her.

Emerging from the cubicle, she blew her nose, splashed water over her face and went back to face the world. She wasn’t going to let another man hurt her like Luke had. Sure, she might be upset for a few days, but she’d get on with her life.

On her way back to her desk, she bumped into Ann, who took one look at her face and tugged her into the nearest vacant office. ‘What happened?’ she asked, pushing her down on a chair.

Clearly her attempts at patching up her face hadn’t been successful. ‘Nothing. I just had a bit of grit in my eye.’

‘Bollocks.’

The earthy phrase, coming from the lips of a woman who often reminded her of a school teacher, managed to make her smile. ‘True. Okay, I’ll give you one guess.’

‘You and Scott had a falling out?’

Miserably, she nodded.

‘Is this the same Scott who apparently has a diary clash that makes him unable to take up the child murder case?’

Dazed, she gaped at Ann. ‘I—he—what did you just say?’

‘I said, Scott isn’t going to be defending that case. It’ll be
Peasbody, who, whilst he’s good—’

‘Isn’t anywhere near as good as Scott.’ Her mind began to spin.  He hadn’t taken the case. Earlier he’d told her he wanted it. Now apparently he didn’t have the time to commit to it.
A diary clash. She knew enough about the workings of a chambers to know that barristers sometimes claimed other commitments to avoid a case. It wasn’t strictly within the rules, but it was hard to prove it wasn’t true. At least with any barrister as busy as Scott. Was she reading too much into it, or, if it weren’t for her, would his diary have been free enough for him to take on such a high-profile case?

‘Does this change anything?’ Ann’s kind eyes were watching her.

‘I don’t know. We’d had a falling out over it, but then matters took another nose dive.’ She loved Ann like a sister, but she wasn’t going to be the one to betray Scott’s privacy. ‘In the last conversation we had a few minutes ago, he told me he wanted to end things.’

‘Did he say why?’

Actually, now she thought about it, Megan realised he hadn’t put it like that. ‘He said we should cool things for a while,’ she recalled slowly. ‘I think his phrase was
give us both time to think
.’

Ann looked as puzzled as she was. ‘About what?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Megan frowned, trying to recall what had happened between Scott wanting to see so much of her and the phone call today. Two things stood out. The first was their argument over the child murder case. Well, he’d managed to neatly sidestep having to take that on, so surely that couldn’t be the driving factor? The only other thing that had happened had been the appearance of his mother.

‘Do you want me to go and box his ears? Arrest him? Threaten him? All of the above?’

Megan didn’t need to look at Ann’s face to know she was serious. The lady was fiercely loyal when it came to looking after those she cared about. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. I’m wondering if the problem isn’t between him and me after all. If it’s actually about something else.’

In fact the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that what Scott had actually been asking for was time to sort out his mother.  She couldn’t imagine what he must be going through right now.
The worry and fear, not to mention the shame. For someone as outwardly cool and sophisticated as Scott, everyone knowing he had a lush for a mother must really hurt.

‘Well, I’ll stand down for now, but the offer’s there if you need it.’ Ann rose from her chair and gave her a quick hug. ‘Don’t let this one hurt you, Megan. Watch your back, and if you can’t, I will.’

Megan didn’t like to tell her friend it was too late. She was already in too deep, getting hurt was almost inevitable. Especially as she was about to offer help to a man who most certainly wouldn’t want it, and probably wouldn’t accept it. But there was no way she was going to let him go through this alone.

The moment he set foot back in the eerily quiet house, his arms laden with groceries, Scott knew his mother had disappeared again. Dropping the bags he ran up the stairs but, as he’d feared, her bed was empty. Disgusted with himself, he punched at the door frame, barely feeling the pain as his knuckles crunched against the hard wood. How the hell had he been so stupid, leaving her alone? It had only been half an hour. Thirty minutes in which he’d driven at breakneck speed to the nearest supermarket to stock up on the essentials. Milk, bread, cheese. Some foods he knew his mother liked in a bid to get something nutritious down her. But it had been thirty minutes too long.

His eyes fell on a sheet of paper left on the coffee table. She’d scribbled a quick note.
Don’t worry about me, Scott darling. I feel better now. I’m staying with a male friend. I’ll call you. Love, Mum.

Shouting a stream of expletives, he ran back down the stairs and straight to the cabinet where he kept the whiskey. Without thinking he drained what was probably the equivalent of a quadruple shot into a tumbler. Grasping the glass, he jerked it up to his mouth and was inches away from downing it in one, when he suddenly
realised what he was doing. Way to take away the pain of having an alcoholic mother: become an alcoholic himself. Slamming the untouched contents back on to the coffee table, he sunk on to the sofa, buried his head in his hands and wept.

An insistent ringing on the doorbell finally penetrated into his consciousness and he warily raised his head. God, how long had he been blubbering like a baby, for Christ’s sake? Dragging himself off the sofa he sloped off to the downstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. Bloody hell. What a wreck. Cupping his hands under the tap, he splashed water over his face, trying to remember when he’d last sought refuge in tears. As a boy, in the sanctuary of his bedroom, when nobody else was around to witness his humiliation, he’d sometimes wept. But since he’d reached adulthood? Other than a few tears when he’d buried his father,
which was surely understandable, he’d never felt the urge to cry. He had his life and his emotions under control now. At least he thought he had, until today.

The doorbell continued to ring. Scott took one last glance in the mirror, decided that at a push he could put his appearance down to a monster hangover, and went to answer it.

‘Megan.’ He stumbled backwards in shock. She was the very last person he’d expected to see. Looking and feeling like he did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her, either.

Remaining where she was, she studied him. No doubt took in the red-rimmed eyes, the drawn face,
the heavy stubble. ‘You look awful.’

He ignored the comment. There was no way he was going to be drawn into a conversation about his appearance, or how he’d come to look like he’d spent the last half an hour weeping away like a baby. ‘What do you want?’ he asked belligerently.

‘Is that any way to greet a friend?’ She pushed past him and into the house. ‘Where’s your Mum? Sleeping it off still?’

‘I don’t know.’

She turned quickly back to look at him. ‘
You don’t know
?’

And now the two days of crap was taking an even further plunge downwards. ‘No,’ he replied tetchily. ‘I went out to get some food. When I came back, she was gone.’

It was then that Megan realised why Scott looked as terrible as he did. He’d been crying. There was no other explanation for the red eyes. But while he looked like he needed a friend, and she was desperate to put her arms around him and provide whatever comfort she could, his guarded expression stopped her, reminding her they weren’t in that place right now. ‘Do you know where she is?’

‘No.’

He stood with his arms crossed, his feet slightly apart and his back ramrod straight. Defiant, as if mustering up the last dregs of his pride. It almost broke her heart.

‘Didn’t you look through her handbag, find any clues?’

She received a pointed glare. ‘Of course not. I don’t make a habit of going through women’s handbags.’

‘You’d never make a detective.’ He didn’t even attempt to smile. Just stood, stony-faced. She tried a different tactic. ‘How long has she been gone?’

He looked down at his watch and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I left about an hour ago to go to the supermarket. I was gone half an hour, max.’

It didn’t take any detective skills to work out what he’d been doing since. She eyed the whiskey glass and he must have seen the direction of her gaze.

‘Like mother, like son, eh?’ he asked bitterly, turning his back on her and slumping down on his sofa.

‘How did she get out?’ she asked, ignoring his barbed comment. ‘I mean, did you lock the door after you?’

He looked incredulous. ‘Lock up my own mother inside the house? Are you crazy?’

Megan stared at him. ‘No, it’s what I’d have done. Handcuffed her to the bed, padlocked the door. Anything to make sure she didn’t escape again. At least until I’d found out where she was living.’

‘Jesus, Megan, she’s my
mother
. I can’t treat her like a criminal.’

His voice started to break and she immediately kicked herself. This wasn’t another case. This was deeply personal. ‘Sorry, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking like a daughter. I was thinking like a cop.’ Her words sounded very similar to words he’d uttered a few days ago, when he’d defended his right to accept the child murder case. He’d been thinking like a lawyer on that occasion, and her like a mother. Now the tables were turned. ‘She’s not been gone long. We can go for a drive around, see if we can find her.’