Page 120 of Perfect Strangers

Miriam glanced at Sophie warily.

‘They always said it was over the boat. Peter bought out Michael’s share, and later regretted it. But it could have been something else. Mike said he and Peter used to make plans together, cooking up get-rich schemes to show all those toffee-nosed stuck-ups. They were going to move out to New York, take on Manhattan. But then . . .’ She looked at Sophie again. ‘But then Peter got married . . .’

Sophie nodded.

‘It’s okay, I know my mother wouldn’t have let him run off to America. Dad used to make a big thing about family being important, keeping the family firm going, but he was always looking at his sailing charts, always planning his big getaway. In some ways, I wish he had.’

‘Well, if what we’ve been told is true, perhaps they did come up with a get-rich scheme in the end,’ said Josh.

Sophie looked at the picture of Iona again. Up until this moment, she hadn’t been able to believe that her dad, this staid, boring accountant from Surrey, had been involved with a scheme which had swindled millions – billions, perhaps – from wealthy investors on both sides of the Atlantic. But now? Well, it was still hard for her to imagine, but at least now Peter Ellis had a motive. Perhaps it had all been a way of getting even for something that had happened at university. Had it just been revenge? She turned to Miriam.

‘Did Michael and my dad make up? I mean, could this story be true, that Peter and Michael cooked up the scheme together?’

Miriam shook her head.

‘If they did, I didn’t hear about it. Peter never came to dinner, I can tell you that. But then, I guess if his part in it was to hide the money, they would have kept their friendship a secret, wouldn’t they? Perhaps we’ll never know.’

Sophie looked at Miriam.

‘But I have to, Mrs Asner, I have to find out. I’m in danger, and I’m scared.’ To admit it out loud made the situation more real.

Miriam’s face softened.

‘You should speak to Andrea Sayer,’ she said quietly.

‘The lawyer you hate?’ Sophie asked, raising a brow.

Miriam nodded. ‘She’s spent long enough demanding things from me; now maybe it’s time she gave a little back. Andrea Sayer is always crowing about how she knows more about my husband’s case than anyone alive, so if anyone might know who this Benedict guy is, she will.’

‘And you’re thinking that it will annoy her having to speak to us?’ said Josh.

‘Maybe a little,’ laughed Miriam. ‘That woman’s so self-important, I’d love to see the look on her face when she meets someone who knows things about Michael Asner she doesn’t.’

The smile faded.

‘She’s based in Manhattan,’ she said, pulling a letter from a drawer and handing it to Josh. ‘Her address and phone number are on there. If you’re quick, you’ll be able to catch her before she leaves the office for the weekend. Although that woman is constantly on the job.’

‘What’s the quickest way to get to the city?’

‘Trains from Pleasantville station go all the way to Grand Central,’ replied Miriam. ‘My car’s in the garage or I’d run you to town.’

‘How far is the station?’ asked Josh.

‘Five miles west of here. There’s a bus stop just opposite the house. Or you could give ten dollars to Jim Bryant at the gas station and he’ll take you.’

They walked away from the house and out on to the road, looking for the bus stop. Josh tried to make banter but Sophie was deep in thought. It was strange: she’d gone to Miriam Asner’s expecting to hate her; she had been so angry that she had managed to ride out the waves of her husband’s maelstrom, escaping virtually unscathed whilst Sophie’s family, and hundreds like them, had lost everything. But now she only felt sorry for her. Miriam Asner was a woman who knew nothing except how to hold the perfect tea party or organise a wonderful dinner for her husband’s clients. Now she was alone, friendless and trapped in a little cottage on the edge of nowhere, where no one ever called. It was as if someone had chosen the perfect punishment for her.

They crossed the road and looked at the bus timetable. Sophie groaned: one hour until the next connection.

‘I can run five miles in about forty minutes,’ she said seriously.

‘You run. I’ll pay Jim Bryant my ten bucks,’ grinned Josh, hefting Sophie’s bag over his shoulder.

After they had been walking a few minutes, he glanced across at her.

‘So how are you feeling?’

Sophie shrugged.