‘You,’ she says simply. ‘Why you became a private investigator.’
I give her a small smile. She’s right, and I owe her this. I owe her a piece of me in return.
I settle back into the sofa, pulling her with me, my eyes staring unseeing at the window ahead and the dark outdoors beyond.
‘When I was at university, a business deal my father was involved in came under scrutiny. It was serious. He was facing a long prison sentence. Our bank accounts were frozen, our assets seized. It was a living nightmare, the kind you so desperately want to wake up from—only you can’t.’
She presses up off my chest. ‘Was he guilty?’
‘Everyone thought so, but it didn’t make any sense. My father was a good man...honest, kind; he brought my brother and me up in the same vein. Especially after Mum died. He’d always gone above and beyond. Then his best friend, Clive—he was my godfather too—started sowing seeds of doubt in our minds, telling us Dad hadn’t been right since Mum had passed, that he’d been gambling, drinking, the works...’
I shake my head, remembering those conversations; the nausea that would come, the disbelief and the split loyalty.
‘I trusted Clive. He’d always been there for us and I figured he was trying to protect us, prepare us for what the future might hold.’
‘But he was lying?’
I look at her. ‘Yes—every last word. I overheard him on the phone, talking about the deal to a man I later discovered was his lawyer. I heard enough to start digging. I couldn’t go back to university with it hanging over us; I couldn’t even afford to go back. I worked in bars to keep some money coming in and I looked into Clive and his dealings. He had no reason to suspect me; made it easy for me, really.’
‘What happened?’
‘I gave every last scrap of evidence I could find to my father’s lawyer and it was enough to get the case thrown out and Clive convicted.’
‘Your poor father—it must have destroyed him, being betrayed like that.’
‘You could say that; he was certainly never the same. He’d lost his wife and his best friend in the space of a few years. Jake and I were all he had left.’
‘Jake?’
‘My brother.’ I clear my throat, clear the strain from my voice. ‘My father retired not long after—got a fishing retreat up in Scotland. He just couldn’t face the rat race any longer.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I hold her tight against me, press her head into my chest and breathe...just breathe. I haven’t talked about it in so long, haven’t let the pain back in. Seeing the man you’ve admired for so long broken by the people he loved most...it’s another reason not to let anyone get close.
I should be remembering that, not getting all cosy and exposed with her. But it’s too late for warnings.
‘Your father’s lucky to have such a clever son.’
I laugh softly. ‘And your granny is lucky to have someone who loves her as you do.’
She scoffs gently. ‘I’m not sure lucky is the word she would use.’
&
nbsp; I tilt her chin up to me, her green eyes lock with mine and I almost forget what I want to say as the need to kiss her beats into my consciousness.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You know that Austen quote—“a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife”?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Try it in reverse.’
‘Ah...she expects you to be married off.’
She rolls her eyes with a sigh and slumps back against me. ‘Has done for years. She can’t understand why I haven’t brought someone home to meet her yet.’