Chapter Fourteen

"He said WHAT?!"

Sammy chuckled at Corinne's expression of amazement, but then she'd been as stunned herself at Daniel's behaviour and revelations.

"That Eleanor isn't the only grandchild." She nodded as she reached for her coffee, "I'd never been happier than the moment I walked out of there."

She didn't add to her friend that the first person she'd called on departing had been Joel, but it had gone straight to answer phone. Who could blame him? He'd tried to tell her more than a dozen times that Daniel was out of control, unstable, but all she'd done was tar him with the same childish brush. All he'd done was try to warn her.

All the way back to Cornwall on the train she felt horrendous. But now as she debriefed with Corinne, as she held her daughter, she felt a little less responsible. Distance in this instance was a great thing for her guilt levels.

"So Daniel has a child? How has he kept that quiet?"

Sammy shrugged, "who knows? I'm just sick of all that now. I just wish I hadn't been so awful to Joel. He said that there was something going on, that Daniel was up to something. I don't know what, or why I was a part of that."

"SO have you spoken to him? Joel?"

She shook her head, "I left him an answer phone message, but I don't think he'll want to talk to me, I don't really deserve it." She shook her head, "if you'd seen Daniel though Corinne...he was livid, like a man possessed. I hope he didn't hurt anyone."

Corinne laughed sipping her cappuccino, "I'm not one for saying I told you so..."

"...but he was a perv at my wedding."

Corinne nodded enthusiastically, "defo. Now. Twenty five grand, what are you going to do with THAT?"

Sammy leaned back in her seat for a moment, "I should invest it, be sensible. But I fancy a holiday, some sun and fun with Eleanor. Then maybe buy a small place for us to live. I can't keep living with Monica, regardless of how good she's been the last six months."

"A holiday sounds amazing...I'd join you but since Mike and I booked this trip to Australia..."

Sammy placed a hand over Corinne's, "you've done far too much for me, this has been a one-way friendship for too long. And you KNOW I'll salon sit for you when you're away."

Her friend's eyes widened, "You will?"

She nodded, "the least I can do. That's if your clients will let me cut their hair."

"They ALL love you, Sammy...you sure?"

"A hundred percent. I am officially letting go of the past, I'm out of my mourning, and I'm stopping feeling sorry for myself. Marcus would hate to know that I've moped around for so long. And I'm holding things back for Eleanor. We are going to start living. Do you think Mike will help me organise my finances? I have to work out what I do and don't have."

"He'd love to." Corinne smiled as she leaned back in her seat, "you are back aren't you? I can tell!"

It was mid November so the next morning was crisp and cold, so Sammy took a stroll along the headland, pushing Eleanor, stopping to point out ships on the horizon, or a sheep grazing on the scrubland. Mike had taken all her financial details the previous night and was going to look into mortgage offers and advise her as soon as he could. that was a relief, she had never been so passive in her life before, but the combination of finally finding someone who wanted to care for her, and his financial security, as well as the pressure of having had so much responsibility on her shoulders from such a young age, meant that she had buried her head in the sand and that had left her in such a precarious position. But now with her regular income from Marcus, and the money from his grandmother, she was able to take control again.

There was a really pretty cottage just outside the village, small, in near of a lot of TLC, but just what she needed, her own space, and it was a stone's throw from the beach. Perfect. She only hoped that the finances would work out, that she could offer to buy the place. She'd suddenly got her heart set on it.

The wind had blown, Eleanor was secure behind a rain cover out of the bluster, but when Sammy stepped into her favourite isolated cafe, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror behind the counter. Her hair was whipped around her face, her cheeks bright red.

Laughing she ordered a coffee then sat in the window watching Eleanor eat a biscuit. A few familiar faces wandered past the window and she reciprocated their waves, and Sammy was never more aware of how she'd settled back into her home so completely. London seemed so far away, and until she'd sat in that funeral the previous day, since she'd witnessed the carnage that was left of the Turner family, she realised that she wasn't forgetting Marcus by moving on. He was everywhere; memories were inside her, not contained within the four walls of their apartment. When she saw the sun rise over the sea in the morning, or the rustle of leaves in the wind, a zillion images flashed into her eyes, her brain. Then there was Ellie, beautiful Eleanor, the sparkle of her eyes, the gurgle of her laugh, everything reminded her of Marcus. And that was SO liberating. She'd spent so long trying to grasp hold of the links to him, not realising that by not living her life she was achieving the exact opposite.

No, this was a new day, the sun was counteracting the winter chill and Sammy was about to get her life back in order.

Joel's head hurt. Alcohol was becoming his greatest foe. Another night alone with whisky. He hadn't drunk so much as he had the last few months since university days. Dragging himself to his feet he cursed the throb in his head, instead staggering to the kitchen for a drink. It was all so juvenile, seeking a way out from reality at the bottom of a bottle. But it was all he had.

Holding a glass of water he turned resting his hips against the work surface. He had to sort his life out, he'd become a one man self pity show and that wasn't him.

His eyes settled on the fridge door and his heart pained in his chest. It was a photo taken on a night out a few years earlier, Marcus, grinning knowingly at the camera, he was almost below his friend, as usual in his shadow, but the beaming smile on both their faces was real, genuine. They had the greatest friendship. Yes Marcus was flamboyant, extrovert, the centre of every party, Joel himself was no wall flower, but by his friend's standards he was the calm one, the sensible one, and that had worked in life, and in work.

He missed him more than he ever thought possible.

Sighing Joel wondered how the rest of the funeral had gone, he'd left when he'd seen such distaste on Sammy's face. He'd only wanted to protect his friend's memory, leave Sammy thinking he was the king that he was, and instead he'd found himself knee deep in a feud with Daniel Turner. He hated that man, but he couldn't do it anymore, couldn't keep everyone happy, and since it seemed that he was everyone's enemy number one, he'd walked away to share his evening with a bottle of decent vintage malt scotch.

That was his first mistake.

Slumping onto the sofa he closed his eyes, praying for the nausea to lift, but he knew he'd feel rough for a while, he had always suffered with horrendous hangovers, unlike Marcus who woke like he'd had twelve hours sleep regardless of how much he'd drunk or how little sleep he'd had. He wasn't jealous of him, and hated that he might sound that way. They were like two halves, for the flamboyance of Marcus, he had the brains, the planning, Marcus got the customers, he organised the deals. They were yin and yang and he was still lost without him in his life.

Yesterday had been the first funeral since he'd stood beside the box containing his best friend and it had hurt him, so much, to remember that. And then he had Sammy shouting at him...it had all been too much. He hated life sometimes, the twists and turns of fate that meant the three people he cared about more than anyone else were all dead at the hands of dangerous drivers.

His phone dragged him from his half sleep, buzzing and ringing almost aggressively. Opening his eyes he glanced at the handset to see Toby's number flashing.

Holding it to his ear he grimaced as he said, "what's happening Toby?"

A laugh came down the line before Toby said, "you sound like I feel. Good night." When he grunted, his friend and legal eagle laughed again, "but we got him Edwards. Get your arse down to my office ASAP and we can nail the bastard."

That thought seemed to immediately lift the hell of his hangover as he hung up the call and almost ran to the bedroom.

A few days later Sammy had arranged to view the cottage officially, despite not having any news on a mortgage offer. As she'd predicted the place needed a lot of work, most cosmetic, but the kitchen needed refitting and the windows needed to be replaced. But the figures she calculated on her notepad left her extremely optimistic. Especially when the large inheritance dropped into her account.

Monica was working, Eleanor was sleeping and an old black and white film had started on TV, so she made a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa to take a break. Was there anyone more dreamy than Rock Hudson in a fifties film as a charming doctor? She was swooning when the door bell rang and was almost disappointed at the disruption.

Glad of modern TV she was able to pause the movie as she reluctantly answered the door.

Mike stood there smiling nervously a brief case in his hand.

"Hi Sammy, not sure if this is a good time, but I have a few things I need to discuss with you."

She stepped back and welcomed him into her mother's home, "of course. Come in. You want a cup of tea?"

"Do you have coffee?"

She nodded as she led him into the kitchen; he sat at the table and opened his briefcase as she turned on the machine. Turning to face him, she leaned against the work surface as he pulled papers out in front of him.

"Well I needed to get some more information on the stability of your income. You told me that you have a fixed amount?"

She nodded, "it was from some..." she suddenly realised that she didn't know where the money that Joel had organised for her came from. Instead she shrugged, "actually not sure, but Joel assured me it was like a legacy, like a pension fund."

He sighed, shuffling his papers a little nervously.

"Is there something wrong?"

Looking up at her he shrugged, "there are no insurance or pension policies in your husband's name."

Sammy was glad of the solidity of the counter behind her as her knees softened for a minute, almost giving way.

"I don't understand."

He nodded, "neither do I. I've traced the money payments you've received to a bank account owned by your husband and Joel's business."

"What does that mean?" She dreaded the response, she had hoped that this was all over, but it was a never ending story.

Mike again shrugged, "I don't know. But as there is no obvious source for the money...you can't rely on it as an income."

The reality of that sank it slowly. "So I can't get a mortgage."

He shook his head, "unless you can get some confirmation of where this money is coming from then no bank will authorise the loan for the house, despite your deposit."

Sammy groaned, she had wanted that house so badly; it was her chance to start over. But then she had to find out what was happening, or what had happened to Marcus' money, to any inheritance he had left her.

With a deep breath, she nodded to Mike, "can I just call Joel? See what he says?"

But there was no answer.

Groaning she turned back to Mike, "does this mean I have to head back to London?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the door burst open and a panting, rather sweaty Corinne burst into the kitchen.

"Shit!" She wheezed for a moment, "had to run here..."

She took a few more deep breaths as Sammy smiling handed her a cold drink, "what's up?"

Still struggling to get her words out, she slammed a tabloid newspaper on the table, and pointed to a headline on the inner page.

'Legal Financier arrested on fraud charges.'

For a moment her heart stopped praying it wasn't Joel, but as her eyes dropped down the page she almost fell over when she saw an image of Daniel being bundled into a police car sprawled out for all to see.

"Shit!" Was just about all she could muster.

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