Isaac shrugs. “Whether he would or wouldn’t in the end, we’ll never know. I think there’s more to it between him and Goldsmith Junior. Who knows?”
“So this morning has totally thrown them.” She looks at Isaac, more relaxed than I’d thought she could be.
“They’re going to do what ever they can to ensure you can’t take the crown and it’ll go to MacPherson. They’ll be discreet, but the media will be manipulated.” He reaches down to a bag and takes out a pen drive. “I recorded the meeting. If this gets into the wrong hands, I’ll be ended.”
I take it from him. “It won’t.” Because there’s no need. And I now have something for my sister; an early Christmas present.
Isaac stands up, ruffles Ivy’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of Blair’s head. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
He has to be careful. Because what ever he was before, he’s now become a double agent.
* * *
The light bounces off the shards of glass.
I don’t flinch when the woman in front of me demands more money than my father earned in a year. The bag I place on the table between us contains the cash we thought she’d ask for and a few grams of cocaine.
Whatever we needed to make her talk.
“Lloyd’s a twat.”
Her accent is thick and her words are slightly slurred, almost imperceptible but it’s there. She’s nervous and it shows.
“I know. Why were you with him?”
Lady Amelia Stretton stretches her legs and tosses her hair behind her. “Because, I don’t know. He knew where to be seen and he could be king.” She fingers the bag and I suspect she’s more interested in the Charlie than the money, although the amount she owes to dealers should interest her more.
“What do you need to tell me?”
“He said that Blair’s mentally unstable and ill. She’s in no fits state to govern. He showed me a message where she said she wanted to hurt herself. You know, big style.”
“So what did you advise when he told you this?”
Amelia shrugs and I wonder how much space she has in her fucking over made up head.
“He needed to let her parents know. So she could get help. I mean, she’s got everything – apart from her brother, I mean. But she’s got this hot boyfriend…”
“Who’s the boyfriend?” I shouldn’t be that interested.
She shrugs again. “He told me it was Shay Bentley. You know, the singer.”
I didn’t choke or laugh, both of which would’ve been acceptable responses.
“And what else?”
“Money. Privilege. She’s going to be queen for fuck’s sake. All that and I have a fucking title and no inheritance until I’m thirty.”
I could’ve cried for her.
“What’s Lloyd planning to do?”
She looks to the window as if she thinks someone’s watching us and will report back to him. There’s always the chance that the next time she’s high she’ll tell someone what she’s done, but that isn’t my fucking problem.
“He says he’s got photos of her shagging some bloke. And that he’ll prove her father’s not well enough mentally to make a sound decision about Blair taking on the throne.” She shrugs again. “He also mentioned her having an accident and it looking like, you know, she hurt herself on purpose. Not dead, just so that no one thought she could do it, she could run Scotland.”
“What does Lloyd like to do in his spare time? Does he do what you do?”
She’s playing with the bag of coke.
