Read False Report for Free Online Page B

in the agency world?
    â€˜There’s more.’ He shifted on the seat and pressed her hand harder. ‘If the agency goes elsewhere, as I’m sure it should, then this house . . . Well, it’s rather on the large side for one older woman living by herself, isn’t it? You’ve been wonderful, taking in Oliver and Maggie, but, well, Oliver’s at university now, and Maggie . . . a delightful girl, of course, but she’s no kin of ours and will be moving on eventually . . .’
    Max had been brought up in this house. After she married Hamilton, he’d adopted the boy. It was a prestigious address and a beautiful house. Max had always wanted to live here. Something inside her cried out that it wasn’t his home; it was hers!
    Again he shifted on his seat. ‘I thought we – Nicole and I – could get a mortgage to buy this house off you on generous terms, and if you were to buy a smaller place somewhere, you could give Oliver and Maggie some thousands each to start them off on the housing market. What’s more – and I know this will appeal to you – your grandson wouldn’t have to be brought up in a flat, and he’d have a garden to play in.’
    She stood up, trying not to show how much he had shaken her. The prospect of making a lot of money didn’t particularly appeal to her, but if selling out meant her grandson and extended family would benefit, then she supposed she ought to think seriously about it.
    He stood, too, and put his arm around her. ‘There, now. That wasn’t so terrible, was it? You have a good think about what I’ve said. You’ve always been a sensible woman, and you’ll soon come to see that I’m right.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Now, I’d better get going, I suppose. Busy, busy. Committee meetings, correspondence, people to see. Nothing for you to worry your head about. I’ll call round again soon, shall I? And then we can talk ways and means.’
    She saw him out and returned to the living room, crossing her arms, hugging herself. If she did as he suggested, life would still go on. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
    She straightened the photographs on the mantelpiece, picking up the silver-framed one of her grandson. He was smiling at the camera, chubby-cheeked and bright-eyed. Seeing him twice a week was one of the joys of her life. She was going to miss seeing him grow over the long summer holiday, although he would have lots of love and attention from his other grandparents. She mustn’t begrudge them their time with him. After all, she saw more of him than they did.
    But still; it hurt.
    And what Max had said hurt, too. He wanted to tidy her away into a bungalow in some retirement haven, where she would lose all contact with her friends and family. A living death to someone who’d worked hard all her life.
    Max had always been jealous of Oliver and Maggie, though he’d no need to be for she had more than enough love to go round. She loved him and knew him well. She understood that he was afraid she might divert part of what he saw as his inheritance their way.
    He was afraid of many things, wasn’t he? Of being found inadequate as a husband and father, as a member of parliament, and of losing status in the eyes of the world . . . unlike Oliver and Maggie who’d both been knocked out by things that had happened to them in their teens, and who were only now beginning to rebuild their lives.
    Yet Oliver and Maggie were rebuilding on a firm foundation. Bad things might still happen to them in the future; they knew that, but they’d also learned that it was possible to survive.
    Did Max know that? Possibly not, because up to now, someone else had always picked him up if he fell down. Hamilton had adopted the fatherless boy and put him through university. When other jobs had faded out, Max had run the agency during Hamilton’s illness . . . and then he’d met