Winner Takes It All (41 page)

Paula got up and answered
the door. Tom strained his ear, hoping it wasn’t Jackson and he
wouldn’t hurt her. She returned to the living room, a worried
expression upon her face as she looked at Tara.

‘
Darling it’s
the police, they want to speak to you.’

‘
The police?’
frowned Tara. ‘What have I done?’

‘
I don’t know.
Do you want me to come with you?’

‘
No. You help
put Andrew to bed. Tom can come with me.’

She took Tom’s hand and
led him to the front door, where two men of early middle age stood.
They were in suits and obviously detectives. Tom hoped Jackson
hadn’t tried to set Tara up, accusing her of some terrible
crime.

‘
Tara Eades?’
the taller of the detectives enquired.

‘
Yes.’

‘
I’m DS
Jenkins, this is DC Gill, Metropolitan Police. Is there somewhere
we can talk in private?’

‘
Er, yes. Come
into the conservatory.’

She led them through the
kitchen and into the conservatory, shutting the adjoining doors so
no one could hear. Everyone sat down, Tara and Tom on a sofa
together. The shorter of the detectives, DC Gill, was looking at
Tom, expecting an introduction.

‘
Oh, this is
my partner Tom Montague,’ Tara said. ‘Whatever you have to say, I
want him to hear.’

‘
This is a
rather delicate matter Miss Eades,’ said Jenkins. ‘Relating to a
ahem
incident that happened some ten years ago.’

The rape. They’d come to
talk about the rape and Tom wondered if he should leave the room.
After all it was Tara’s darkest moment.

‘
Tom and I
have no secrets,’ she said resolutely, gripping his
hand.

‘
Very well.
Did you ever know a man called Martin Spicer?’ Jenkins
asked.

‘
Yes,’ she
replied quietly, her shoulders automatically hunching.

‘
Mr Spicer was
found wandering the streets of Central London early this morning.
We thought he was intoxicated when indeed it appeared he was under
mental duress. He was taken to a London station where officers
attempted to question him and he confessed to allegedly
accidentally killing a woman he claimed to have been raping at the
time. He then went on to confess to a series of rapes and sexual
assaults and he kept mentioning your name, saying you were the
first one he raped. We checked and you were the only Tara Eades of
the right age group so we travelled to the large house in the
neighbouring village and they said you would be here. Is it true
Miss Eades, did Mr Spicer assault you?’

‘
Yes,’ she
whispered.

‘
And when was
this?’

‘
The thirtieth
of June 1998. It was at the house I was sharing in Oxford. He was
the boyfriend of my housemate. He raped me at a party.’

‘
And you never
reported it to the police?’

‘
I didn’t
think anyone would believe me.’

‘
Unfortunately
conviction looks unlikely Miss Eades, in layman’s terms and this is
off the record, I think Mr Spicer has flipped his lid so to speak
and I’ve seen cases like this where the person never recovers. He’s
currently in secure psychiatric care and I’m pretty certain he’ll
he remaining there. I will however pass the details of your assault
to Thames Valley Police and there’s a chance they may want to speak
to you. Even though it was long ago, you’ll still be interviewed in
a rape suite by a specially trained female officer. I’m sorry I
can’t offer any more Miss Eades.’

‘
You’ve
offered enough,’ she sniffed. ‘I thought that man would get away
with what he did to me forever. I don’t care if he’s locked up in
the nut house or in prison, just as long as he’s off the streets
and not hurting anyone else is fine with me.’

Tom showed the police
officers out and returned to Tara in the conservatory. She wasn’t
crying, but the memory of it all had shaken her badly; she’d
wrapped her arms tightly around herself and was shaking gently. Tom
sat beside her, pulling her to him and stroking her
hair.

‘
How do you
feel?’ he asked.

‘
Numb,’ she
replied. ‘I think when it all sinks in I’ll be really happy but for
now I’m numb. It’s a horrible chapter in my life that’s
over.’

The conservatory door
opened and Paula walked in, a concerned look upon her
face.

‘
What did
those policemen want?’ she asked.

‘
The police
have arrested the man who raped me,’ Tara replied. ‘It seems he’s
killed someone, gone mad and is confessing to all his
crimes.’

‘
Oh darling,’
Paula cried, rushing to her daughter’s side and hugging her. ‘I’m
sorry for whoever he’s killed but I’m so glad it’s all over for
you.’

***

Two weeks later and Tom’s
life had almost returned to normality. He’d moved into Tara’s house
and as if all the espionage and treachery had never happened, he
went back to working as estate manager up at Claremont Hall. He’d
overseen a two day shoot when Fiesta Films had made an Agatha
Christie drama and was now busy purchasing animals for the little
petting zoo and farm that was going to open. A few days after Ben’s
funeral, Christian had opened up Layton House to the villagers to
thank them for their kindness in the time after his father’s death
and at the little afternoon soiree in the garden, Tara and
Christian had discovered that Mrs Norman, the postmaster’s wife
made clotted cream ice cream as a hobby and they’d asked her if
they could sell it at the petting zoo and she’d agreed. Alex
suggested they brand it, and call it Claremont’s, then it would be
exclusive. Mrs Norman agreed and was now busy thinking up
recipes.

Once upon a time Tom
would have considered this provincial life boring and unfulfilling,
but he was happier than he’d ever been before. Even his mother was
thinking of moving to Abbott’s Leigh after enjoying her time at
Layton House. She also liked the thought of being around when her
first grandchild was born. Andrew was confident there would
probably be room for a new art teacher at Abbott’s Leigh Comp and
Tom grudgingly admitted he liked the thought of being close to his
mother once again.

Tom was in the middle of
a field, deciding where to put the sheds in which the animals would
sleep, when his mobile rang. Thinking nothing of it, he was
surprised when he took it out and saw it was Mo. As he had no
intention of returning to Fulham, he’d put Mo in charge of the
house and guessed she was probably updating him on some
crisis.

‘
How you doing
Mo?’ he asked.

‘
A fella came
here to see you,’ she said. ‘He’s been trying to find
you.’

‘
He wasn’t
called Jackson Pearce was he? About my age, smarmy looking, slicked
back hair, too much aftershave?’

‘
No, he was a
young black guy of about twenty called Elroy. He said he worked for
Sachs solicitors. They’ve tried writing to you and had no response
so he’d been sent to tell you you’ve got to be at their New York
branch on Monday morning for your grandmother’s will
reading.’

‘
Me? She
wouldn’t have left me anything.’

‘
It seems she
has hen. You’d better go; she might have left her all her
jewellery.’

‘
More likely a
gun to shoot myself with. Okay, do you have a number for this
bloke?’

‘
I do. Shall I
text it to you?’

‘
Yeah, thanks
Mo. How are things at the house?’

‘
Same as ever.
We’re going to advertise your old room, is that okay?’

‘
That’s fine,’
he smiled. ‘I can’t see myself coming back somehow.’

While Tom headed for
Claremont Hall, he phoned this Elroy and confirmed he was Sorcha’s
grandson and Elroy said he would email details of where he had to
go to on Monday. That was only three days away and pretty short
notice and he wondered if it would even be worth going. What could
Sorcha have left him? She must have re-written her will recently,
before that she wouldn’t have even considered him.

He decided that if she
had left him any jewellery, he would sell it and buy an engagement
ring for Tara. He’d been thinking of proposing to her for a while
now and this would be the perfect opportunity. Maybe they could
even get married before the baby was born in April.

Tara was in the office,
snowed under with paperwork and barely even noticed him enter the
room until he slumped down at the desk in front of her.

‘
How do you
fancy a trip to New York?’ he asked.

‘
New York?’
she frowned. ‘When?’

‘
Tomorrow till
Tuesday?’

‘
Tom can’t you
see how much work I’ve got here?’

‘
Oh please
Tara. I’ve just had a call from Sorcha’s solicitor’s office in
London; apparently it’s imperative I attend the will reading. She’s
probably only left me some old junk but I don’t care. Come on Tara,
we probably won’t have a holiday until after the baby’s born;
there’s so much work to do here and then you’ll be too far gone to
travel.’

‘
Okay okay
okay!’ she laughed, raising her hands in the air. ‘I’ll ask Julie
to keep an eye on things until we come back. Goodness gracious
Thomas I didn’t know what impetuousness was until I met
you.’

***

It felt wonderful to be
back in New York under such different circumstances. The last time
Tom had been here, he’d been under the control of his evil cousin,
brought over to be brainwashed and trained to be some little
puppet. He returned a free man with a proper job, a decent home,
and his beautiful, pregnant girlfriend at his side. Instead of
staying in Jackson’s swanky apartment, they were staying at
Christian’s little bolt-hole in Manhattan. A much more modest
place, as it was just the place he used when he was in New York on
business; but it was lovely knowing it wasn’t connected to the
horrible side of the family.

They arrived on Sunday
afternoon and Tara felt quite nauseous and jet lagged. After a
short nap, they went for a walk around Central Park and Tom kept
thinking about asking her to marry him, wondering if he should do
it now. He almost did when they went to dinner, then chickened out
again. It was the most grown up thing he would have done in his
life and it had to be perfect.

The New York office of
Sachs Solicitors was just off Wall Street and Tom and Tara turned
up at nine o’clock as instructed. It was a huge, flashy building
and it took a while before they found the right office. Finally
they did and were shown in to await the reading. Tom’s blood ran
cold when he entered to find Jackson sitting there next to his
mother and a younger, blonde girl he took to be Anna, his other
cousin.

Jackson got up and
stormed over to Tom, pushing him by the shoulders.

‘
Get out you
traitor,’ he shouted. ‘Get out.’

‘
Mr Pearce,’
called the elderly solicitor from behind the desk. ‘Will you please
sit down?’

‘
He has no
right to be here!’ Jackson yelled, pointing at his cousin. ‘He has
betrayed this family.’

‘
If you don’t
sit down this minute, I will call the police, and given your record
Mr Pearce, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

With a huff, Jackson
returned to his seat and Tom and Tara entered the room. The
solicitor looked up at him.

‘
Are you Mr
Montague?’

‘
Yes, and this
is my partner Tara Eades.’

‘
Take a seat
Mr Montague.’

Tom and Tara sat at the
far side of the room, as far away from Jackson as possible. Tom was
frightened of what his cousin was planning on doing as it was
obvious he was raging.

‘
Welcome
everyone,’ said the solicitor, looking around the room. ‘My name is
Lloyd Morgan and I am the executor of the will of Sorcha D’Arbo.
Thank you for coming today. If everyone is happy, I will
begin.’

He picked up a piece of
paper and started to read.

‘
This is the
last will and testament of Sorcha Sheridan Montague D’Arbo of sound
mind, revised on August thirteenth 2007. I Sorcha D’Arbo wish for
my estate to be distributed thus. To my daughter Annabel I leave my
TriBeCa house, my Hamptons holiday home, my cars, my jewellery and
the sum of ten million pounds. To my grand-daughter Anna Pearce I
leave my Knightsbridge apartment and the sum of five million pounds
so that she can go to London and study drama at a proper acting
school. I also leave her all my furs. To my grandsons Jackson
Pearce and Thomas Montague. Jackson, your recent behaviour has
caused me the deepest shame. You have proven yourself unworthy of
taking on the mantle of your dear grandfather’s company. Therefore,
Jackson, I am leaving you my late husband Trent’s art collection,
valued at around five million pounds. Thomas, you may have been
estranged from me due to your mother’s selfishness but in taking up
the mantle to try and reclaim your inheritance, you have proved
yourself a worthy young man therefore I am bequeathing to you
control and ownership of Montague Construction.’