Ralph was suspicious of his son’s resurrection, not having had any contact with him for several years, and the last time they had met, he had deemed his son a hopeless case. But according to his sister, who had met him, her nephew looked presentable, although pale and definitely undernourished.
Jill Dundas booked the young man into the Waverley Hills Centre, a stately home on the outskirts of London, in an area complete with rolling hills and fresh air. Michael, driven down by Caroline, looked at the place as they drove through the main gates and up the sweeping driveway. He did not look forward to it, having attempted to get off the drugs a few years earlier. But that had been a detox centre alongside a charitable institution in one of the rougher parts of London. That hadn’t worked; he wasn’t sure if this would, but he had Caroline in one ear, Helmsley in the other, both offering encouragement, although neither had met and were unlikely to.
‘Good to see you, Mr Lawrence,’ Ian Grantly, the medical director at the drug rehabilitation centre, said. The sign outside made no mention of its function, or that it catered to the rich and famous. Caroline saw one of her favourite singers as she walked through the building with Michael and Grantly. At another time and place, she would have felt inclined to stop and talk to him, but as Grantly had said, ‘We’re all equal here.’
‘Leave me, Caroline,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll play the game.’
‘It’s up to you,’ Caroline said. She had to admit that after so many years of not seeing her nephew, she had been surprised by his better than expected appearance. He was also polite, and he had inherited the charm that his father had in abundance.
‘Once an addict, always an addict,’ Grantly said as he escorted Caroline off the premises. ‘Visiting hours, Monday and Wednesday, 2 p.m.’
‘Can you get him off the drugs?’
‘We can control him in here, but outside, that’s when the problems start. He looks as though he’s had it rough.’
‘There’s not been a lot of guidance from his father, and as for his mother…’
‘Long gone?’
‘The mother, no idea where she is. His father is here, although he’s been absent for more years than I can remember.’
‘That’s the problem. Michael needs a support mechanism.’
‘I’ll try, but I’m not going to be a nursemaid.’
‘I’m informed that all costs will be borne by his grandfather’s estate.’
‘They will, although you’ll be submitting them to a Leonard Dundas. He’s as careful with money as my father was. I’d suggest that you don’t commit to any treatment out of the ordinary unless you’ve run it past Dundas.’
‘I read about your father,’ Grantly said.
‘No doubt you formed your own opinion.’
‘Your mother, that’s what I assume you’re referring to. Hardly the actions of a rational man, but I suppose you don’t need me to tell you that.’
‘I don’t. Ralph, my brother, Michael’s father, is also not always easy to understand.’
‘It doesn’t make it easier when there’s eccentricity in the family.’
‘But you’ll try. I need Michael on my side,’ Caroline said.
‘And his father?’
‘If you have a centre for stupidity, he could do with a few weeks there.’
‘Bad decisions?’
‘In the past. I just hope he’s wiser now.’
‘Do you think he is?’
‘No.’
***
For once, Ralph was welcomed into Caroline and Desmond Dickson’s house, but not because the two men liked each other. On the contrary, Ralph regarded Desmond as a pompous snob; Desmond considered his brother-in-law worthless.
‘The situation’s changed,’ Caroline said. She was holding a glass of red wine and leaning back on the dining room chair. She had to admit that she was slightly tipsy.
‘Not to me, it hasn’t,’ Ralph said. He had drunk as much as his sister, but he was a regular drinker, Caroline was not. ‘Dundas is still in control.’
‘But your son is attempting to reform.’
‘He’s a weak man, a major disappointment.’
‘The pot calling the kettle black,’ Desmond said in a moment of derision. For the last few hours he had been civil to Ralph, but now, when all three were winding down after a meal prepared by Caroline and three bottles of the best wine from the house’s cellar, the reluctance to speak their minds had dissipated.
‘Desmond, you may be married to my sister, but it doesn’t stop you being a pain in the rear end.’
‘Please,’ Caroline interceded, not very successfully as the effects of the alcohol were impairing her usually coherent speech. ‘We need to work together. The enemy is Leonard and Jill Dundas, not each other.’
‘Caroline is right,’ Desmond conceded. ‘I spoke in error. Ralph, please accept my apologies.’
‘There is no more to say. My son will assist or he won’t. It doesn’t stop the issue with Dundas and his scheming daughter, and what they have control of. Caroline, you’ve attended their meetings. Are you able to update us with any more than what you have already told us?’
‘Not really. We can assume there are more properties than we know of, more bank accounts, but unless Dundas tells us, we’re blind.’
The three of them moved to another room. Caroline prepared coffee, black for everyone, and she made it strong.
‘I have a contact. I don’t trust him,’ Ralph said.
‘A criminal?’ Desmond said. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading. He did not need to walk on the dark side. He had a successful business, upstanding members of society as his customers. He had met the occasional villain, realised to what lengths they would go to maintain their importance or to achieve their aim.
‘We need to hack Dundas’s computers,
