Tasha knew her news was unlikely to cheer him up, quite the opposite.
“It’s fine,” she said reassuringly.
“Let me put you through.” And like that, she was through to him.
“Tasha, how are things?” Jim asked with a little caution, but mainly concern.
“Could be better.”
“I’ve got you a P.R. agent who’ll call you first thing in the morning and an attorney who will need some details but seems confident on securing a residency order for Pippa.”
“How? It’s midnight here?” She was in awe of his ability to sort things.
“My people know people and time is incidental, baby. You need P.R. and you need a legal team, so now you have them. Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, somehow without actually offering her the option of not answering.
She explained about Dan’s frantic call and how she and Lucy had headed over there.
“You did call the police though, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Lucy did, but not until we were there.” She held her breath.
“I told you to call the police and not to put yourself in danger. Christ, Tasha, you are infuriating.”
She hadn’t been infuriating for a while and smiled a half-smile, knowing he cared enough to be infuriated by her.
“If I have infuriated you by that you had better brace yourself,” she warned and decided to avoid omissions, but planned to play down the events.
“Go on.”
“When we got there, he was still laying into her. I intervened and he turned on me, but I got Dan and Pippa out and sent Lucy to call the police. The Solomons next door had also called the police and Gerry.”
“What do you mean,he turned on you?” Jim spoke with apparent calmness.
“This is where you are likely to become really infuriated. He hit me across the face and said some unpleasant things and as we know my smart mouth can’t help itself so after I unleashed it he flipped slightly and really hit me.” She braced herself for his anger.
“Where? Where did he hit you and with what? With his hand?” Jim still sounded remarkably calm.
Who asks what you’ve been hit with? James Maybury does. He was supposed to assume she’d been slapped.
“Natasha, just tell me, please, or I will be on a flight to London tonight.”
She believed his words were in no way an empty threat. “You don’t need to do that. I am fine, really. He hit me across the back, legs and arms. He hit me with his hands and he erm, he has only ever lost it like this a couple of times before, erm,” she hesitated nervously, anticipating the anger and irritation that would undoubtedly be unleashed once the words were out.
“Tasha, please, baby, tell me,” he said with only gentleness to most people, but Tasha could hear the hint of anxiety and insistence entering the final two words.
“His belt,” she said with a distinct wobble to her voice as Lucy and Dan looked on.
“He beat you with his belt? He is a fucking lunatic and he will never touch you again, ever. If he does, I will fucking kill him. I will get back on to legal and get a restraining order and Amanda can book me on the next flight over—”
“No, James, please don’t change your plans,” she pleaded. “The legal stuff is fine and the P.R. but I’m fine. A bit bruised, but fine and you will be over next week anyway. I love you and I miss you, but I don’t want you to come over like this. I promise I will tell you what’s happening,” she said, hoping to reassure him.
“I won’t book anything tonight, but I need you to video call tomorrow so I can see you for myself.” He spoke with an eerie calmness.
For now, Tasha was relieved he wasn’t changing his plans because as much as she wanted to see him, she didn’t want him to have to come over and rescue her. She wanted to take some control and allow him to see she wasn’t another one of his children or someone who was weak, a responsibility. She needed him to see her as his equal, his partner, she hoped. “I promise. Text me when you wake up in the morning and we can do it then.” She hoped she’d bought enough time to let the redness fade and to be able to put some make up over her face to mask any marks.
“I guess, but complete honesty, no lies, even ones of omission.”
“Yes, complete honesty,” she agreed. “Are you still infuriated by me?”
