Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The place was buzzing. Models mingled with punters and the champagne flowed. Josh desperately wished that Hugh was here by his side.

Several fashion editors had gone wild over the designs as they had come out.

"You must be very proud to be back in the saddle," Jessica Webber asked. She was the editor of Looks magazine.

"I certainly am," Josh replied, forcing a smile on his face.

A model sashayed past in a delicate chiffon dress. The fabric almost floated.

"I don't know how you find the time," she said, examining the garment before the model drifted off.

"Meaning?"

"Oh darling, we're all on the edge of our seats to see who you bed next. A word to the wise. Go for a higher profile. You have to think of your brand."

For the second time that night, tears threatened to overwhelm him.

"I know it's all a laugh to you," he said through gritted teeth. "But this is my life."

To her credit she looked embarrassed. "Sorry. My mouth runs away with me. If you ever want to do an exclusive, give me a call."

Before Josh could reply, she wandered off toward a waiter brandishing shrimp canapes.

"Twat," Josh muttered.

Suzanne was across the room. He made a beeline for her.

"I think we have a victory on our hands," she said, clinking her glass to his.

"Yeah."

She frowned. "What's the matter?"

"I think I'm done. Can you wrap this up?"

"Sure," Suzanne replied. "You want to stay with us tonight?"

Josh shook his head. "I need to go home at some point. I might as well face it while I'm running on adrenalin and champagne."

"You call me if you need anything. Promise?"

"I promise."

When he got home, his suspicions were correct. There wasn't a dirty dish left in the house. It appeared Madeline had also removed all of Hugh's clothes from the place, including the washing basket.

He'd missed her at the event but a weekend retreat with her latest leading man had to take precedence. She wanted to see if they had chemistry. He didn't ask any more questions.

"She's thorough. I'll give her that," he said to himself as he stood in the drawing room. His gaze rested on the couch where he and Hugh had shared that first forbidden kiss. What he wouldn't give for another one of those right at that moment.

He spent the rest of the night sitting in the window, staring out. Jeannie's house had been in darkness when he'd walked past. Confirming that Hugh had indeed gone.

At about half past three he'd sunk down on the sofa and got a little bit of sleep. He soon found himself back at the window, watching the early birds going for their morning run or to get a paper.

The emptiness in his stomach was crippling. Thankfully it was a Saturday so he didn't have any plans. Except for his summons to Mrs Wimpole's. Despite his best attempts, she had refused to elaborate on what she had in store. She had always had a taste for the dramatic. No matter what the stakes were.

He must have drifted off when he was awoken by a loud rapping on his door. His first thought was it could be Hugh. He glanced down and saw Madeline. She was a pretty good second choice.

Josh bounded down the stairs and opened the door.

"Morning," Madeline said, pushing past him. "I hope the show went well. Tell me about in a bit. First things, now Suzanne has dropped her guard, let's talk."

Despite everything, knowing he had Madeline on his side made things a little better. Along with Suzanne and Mrs Wimpole, he had quite the female army.

"Oh and by the way, it was only because this is an emotional emergency that I let her manhandle me out of the studio. You can tell her from me, that won't happen again."

Madeline led him into his own kitchen.

"I presume you're regressing," she said, firing up the coffee machine.

"What do you mean?"

She looked him up and down. "Unless you sleep in a dress shirt, that is the outfit I selected for you last night, is it not?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"We're not doing that again. While you have a shower and change, I'll sort us something to eat."

Josh's jaw dropped. "Sorry, did you just say you would cook?"

The house reverberated with Madeline's cackle. "Don't be so ridiculous. There's a new place on Pelham St that does the most divine French toast. In fact, why am I messing with this machine? We'll get that too. Come on, move it."

Although he didn't usually like being managed, Madeline often knew exactly when he needed it, so he obeyed. The shower did make him feel better. In fact, he wanted to stand under its jets for an hour. However, Madeline Morrison clearly had plans for him. And her plans waited for no man.

He put on his joggers and oversized T-shirt. Peering at himself in the mirror, he noted the bags under his eyes appeared to have grown ones of their own. He was getting way too old to pull an all-nighter.

By the time he returned to the kitchen, Madeline had food on plates and coffee in cups. She wouldn't be seen dead drinking out of a takeaway cup.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Quarter to eleven."

The day stretched out ahead of him. He sat at the kitchen counter and nibbled a piece of the French toast. She was right, it was incredible. He bit another, larger piece.

"That's the spirit," she said.

"I thought you were out of town?"

"I was," she replied. "Mrs Wimpole contacted me. We aren't filming this weekend so I flew back to check up on my best friend."

Josh frowned "I thought you and Mrs W hated each other."

"Hate is a strong word. We have one thing in common."

"What's that?"

"You."

He almost choked on his food. Madeline excelled in tough love. He wasn't used to such declarations of emotion.

"Apparently Mrs Wimpole has it all sorted out. I've got to go to hers at five."

Madeline sniffed. "I know all about it."

"What is she plotting?"

"As if I'm going to tell you that," Madeline replied. "This uneasy truce would be fucked forever. No, my job is to keep you occupied until five. She had the idea that you might lock yourself away."

She was a shrewd one. Only Mrs Wimpole had the power summon an A-list movie star to come home from location to do her bidding.

"And what have you got planned for me?"

"Spa day, of course," she said. "We're booked into the Aman in an hour."

The tears were welling. He didn't believe that he deserved this kind of love but he was so glad to receive it.

"Thank you."

She squeezed his leg. "And I can confirm that Winston has checked out of the Nickleby. We can only assume he has skulked off to Nice, the bastard."

"How on earth do you know that?"

"I never reveal my sources. Mrs Wimpole isn't the only one who can find things out, you know."

He hopped off the stool and hugged his friend.

"You're amazing."

"I know and so are you. It's about time you bloody realised it. Eat up. If you have a lining on your stomach, we can have champagne."

A flash of hope reverberated around his system. With these powerful women behind him, maybe he could fix the car crash called his life.

Although he still worried about what Mrs Wimpole had uncovered.

Time will tell, I suppose.

The time soon came and Josh found himself standing on Mrs Wimpole's doorstep. He rang the bell and winced as Parkin came yapping to the door.

"Now, now," Mrs Wimpole said. "Enough of all that. It's only Joshua."

She opened the door and beamed at him.

"And right on time. That's what I like to see."

As he was ushered in, he kissed Mrs Wimpole on the cheek.

"My goodness, you smell nice," she exclaimed.

"Madeline took me for a spa day."

A glint appeared in Mrs Wimpole's eye but she remained silent. Josh allowed himself to be led down the passage and into Mrs Wimpole's kitchen. It had every appliance known to man.

Parkin leapt up at him. Josh knelt and gave him a fuss.

"Who's taking care of this young man tonight?" Josh asked. "The Professor?"

"No," Mrs Wimpole replied. "He's at a talk about Dickens' heroines or something. I tend to zone out when that author is mentioned."

Knowing the Professor, she must spend a lot of her time in her own head. No wonder she found the time to solve the world's romantic woes.

"Jeremy has offered."

Jeremy Brookes was a local author who Mrs Wimpole and the Professor fed information too. It hadn't occurred to Josh that he might find this adventure in one of Jeremy's novels. He would make sure they only used it if it worked.

Josh took a seat at the small table opposite Mrs Wimpole.

"Okay, Mrs Wimpole. Are you going to put me out of my misery?"

"I very much hope so, young man," she replied. "Okay, where to begin?"

She reached over and grabbed her iPad from the kitchen counter.

"As you know, the Professor found the lad with the same likeness in both videos. Well, he had a brainwave this afternoon."

"I wonder what that was."

Mrs Wimpole held up a finger. "Wonder no more."

She slid onto the next image. It was a Facebook profile for the same guy.

"Kevin Hogg? Wait a minute, that's the same surname as Hugh's stepfather."

Judging by the expression on Mrs Wimpole's face, she was many steps ahead of this. He admired her ability to string out a story.

"His son. The middle one," Mrs Wimpole revealed. "We realised that there had to be a connection. He's friends with Hugh's mother."

"What is going on?"

Mrs Wimpole placed her hands together. Her kitchen was a vision in sage green wood and orange splashbacks.

"My suspicion is he and his vile father are trying to ruin Hugh's career so he won't bring embarrassment to them," Mrs Wimpole said. "Not that he's even taken their name. Stupid men."

Josh let that sink in. He'd known it was a set-up.

"I need to tell Hugh," he said.

Mrs Wimpole stayed him with a hand on his arm. "Calm down, Casanova," she said. "We need to be cleverer than that. If you tell everything, Hugh will have a showdown. They'll only deny it and we have no proof. Yet."

A tingle of apprehension ran up his spine. Mrs Wimpole had a glow about her that suggested she might be about to throw a curveball. He braced himself.

"Go on."

Mrs Wimpole reached into her handbag at the side of her chair and produced a small envelope. She tipped it out onto the table. A small black square of plastic fell onto the table. It was about the size of two dices.

"What's that?"

"A microphone," Mrs Wimpole explained. "I borrowed it from Mr Varma."

Nihal Varma lived on Queens Crescent. He owned a huge PR firm in the city. It was common knowledge Nihal used questionable methods at times.

"Okay," Josh said. "We don't even know where he lives… Hang on, we do, don't we?"

Mrs Wimpole nodded. "Mr Varma's staff can find out all sorts of things. They will come in very handy in the future."

"Am I going to freeze my arse off in a rough street waiting for him to come out?"

"You know me better than that."

Mrs Wimpole handed him a cup of coffee from the flask. Of course, she had put china mugs in when preparing for their little trip. She had hired a Range Rover for the covert operation. Unfortunately, she'd insisted on driving. Josh was still struggling to bring his heartrate down.

They were opposite an apartment complex near the river.

"If only we had some way to lure him out," Mrs Wimpole muttered. "Stakeouts are very boring."

"We've only been here for ten minutes," Josh replied.

"I've never been one to sit around."

They watched people coming and going. It was a busy place, seemingly full of young professionals.

"I'm selling up," Josh blurted out.

Mrs Wimpole didn't say anything.

"I have no other option," Josh continued, desperate to fill the silence. "It's either that or give Winston a quarter share in Cut."

"He has to be one of the most spiteful men I've ever met," Mrs Wimpole said. She stared straight ahead. She blew on her steaming coffee.

"Are you cross with me?" Josh asked.

She turned to him. Josh was amazed to see tears in her eyes.

"I'm a silly old fool," she said. "I get upset when any of my neighbours leave. I think of you all as friends."

Josh took her hand and squeezed it. "We are friends. I need to start again somewhere."

"My darling, you've been through the mill. I can't blame you. Are you hoping to ride off into the sunset with Hugh?"

He would give anything in the world for that to happen. He couldn't count on it.

"Maybe. Maybe not. If it doesn't, I think New York for a while."

"Now that is a culture shock. Good for you. Here's to new beginnings."

She held her mug up. Gently, Josh clinked it.

"New beginnings."

"Before that, we've some loose ends to tie up and it looks like we might have struck gold."

Josh followed her gaze and saw Kevin Hogg leaving the apartment building.

Mrs Wimpole clicked the microphone on and dropped it into the breast pocket of her violet blazer.

Before he put his cup down, she'd popped open the door and was scrambling down.

"Get a move on, Joshua. Our quarry will get away."

She slammed the door and scuttled toward the man. Josh burnt his fingers putting the mug in the footwell.

"Fuck's sake."

He almost fell out of the ridiculously high SUV. He set off after Mrs Wimpole, who had already approached their prey.

"Stop there," she barked.

A startled Kevin did exactly that.

Josh was out of breath by the time he reached them. So much for being fitter than Hugh.

"What do you want?" Kevin asked.

"We're on to you, young man," Mrs Wimpole said. "You're out to get poor Hugh and we're here to put a stop to it."

For a second, Kevin appeared shocked. He regained his composure rapidly.

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. It's written all over your face," Mrs Wimpole countered.

Josh laid a calming hand on her shoulder. She was waving her left breast toward the man in an alarming manner.

"Listen, mate," Josh began.

"Don't mate me. Who do you think you are?"

Josh held his other hand up. "We have pictures of you at the TV show and the wedding. That wasn't very bright, was it?"

"It's not illegal."

"Is that the base that you've fallen to?" Mrs Wimpole asked. "Whatever happened to decency? You've caused that poor man untold worry."

Up-close, Kevin had the same snubby nose as his father. It made Josh think of a weasel.

"He had it coming," Kevin said.

Mrs Wimpole had broken free from Josh and was, once again, shoving her chest toward Kevin.

"So you admit it then? You've been trying to sabotage Hugh's career?"

Kevin frowned.

"Have you got a fucking mic on?"

"How dare you use that language with me."

Kevin roughly grabbed Mrs Wimpole and dove in her pocket.

"Josh!" she cried.

Josh leapt forward a fraction too late. Kevin shoved Mrs Wimpole away. Before Josh could get a grip on her, she'd fallen to the pavement with a sickening crack.

Josh and Kevin were frozen for a second. Then Josh sprang forward while Kevin ran for it.

"Mrs Wimpole?" Josh wailed.

She stirred. That had to be a good sign.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

Then she let out a howl.

"Maybe I'm not."

The hospital was mercifully not too busy. Josh couldn't decide if it was her age or her overall vibe but Mrs Wimpole got seen to very quickly. She had fractured her wrist.

They were in a small cubicle while they waited for a nurse to put a bandage on.

"What an exciting evening," Mrs Wimpole said for the umpteenth time. "At least we got the recording."

Josh grinned. "Always about the mission, Mrs Wimpole. I admire that."

Mrs Wimpole shrugged. "I may have got a little carried away."

That was putting it mildly. Josh shuddered to think what might have happened if she'd fallen more awkwardly.

"How long have we been here now?" she asked.

"Only about an hour," he replied.

She sat upright on the bed while Josh perched on an exceedingly uncomfortable chair next to her.

Mrs Wimpole let out a dramatic sigh.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I wonder where that nasty little so-and-so has skulked off to. Probably to his father."

Josh hadn't thought about that. What if they came up with a story to blow this out of the water? Best of luck. The microphone had transmitted to an app on Nihal's phone. Even though Kevin had taken it, they still had the evidence.

Suddenly, the curtains were yanked apart violently and a panting Professor stood there. He was wearing a tuxedo. His eyes were wild.

"Oh, there you are," he said. "I've tried almost every cubicle."

He dashed forward to the other side of Mrs Wimpole's bed and took hold of her good hand.

"Beatrice. Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she replied. "Joshua, I suppose you contacted him."

"He certainly did," the Professor said. "I told you to wait to do the stakeout until I was free."

Mrs Wimpole pouted. "It was time-sensitive."

Josh stifled a laugh. Mrs Wimpole appeared to have taken on quite the military role in this particular mission.

"I couldn't bear to think that anything had happened to you," the Professor said. "My life would be ruined."

"Poppycock," Mrs Wimpole replied.

"I mean it, Beatrice. Ever since Josh called me, I've not been able to get it out of my mind."

Josh wasn't sure where this conversation was going. Although, he suddenly felt like he shouldn't be there.

"I'll leave you to it," he said.

"Nonsense," Mrs Wimpole replied. "This is just the Professor getting worked up. Isn't it, Philip?"

Philip? Josh couldn't recall if he'd ever heard the Professor's real name before.

"No it isn't," the Professor replied. "In fact, I've made a decision."

Mrs Wimpole stared at him. As did Josh who was transfixed.

The Professor dropped to one knee, still holding Mrs Wimpole's hand.

"Beatrice Wimpole. I wonder if you'd do me the honour of becoming my wife?"