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Rachel moved the phone to her other ear. She was not sure what she was meant to be feeling about the red flags presented to her thus far. ‘What else?’
‘Well, this is less about what Michael said to Jonno and more about what Jonno has unearthed from the internet, but apparently his business, MCR International, is not what it seems.’
‘OK …’
‘Yes, it appears to be a kind of cover operation for a fewdifferent business concerns, some of which Jonno said look a bit … shady.’
‘Shady? In what way?’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t really go into detail. He just said that. Shady.’
‘You mean like drugs? Money laundering? What?’
‘He’s not sure. Just weird addresses, kind of storage units in back streets in Algeria, storage units in industrial estates in Belfast. Jonno did Google Map Street View searches, said the places looked suspect.’
‘So, you mean maybe just financial shenanigans then? Nothing actually illegal?’
‘Yes. I reckon that’s it. Just financial stuff. Not, like, child sex trafficking. Though, God, actually, all those weird lock-ups in the middle of nowhere – you know …’
‘Fuck! Dom! Stop it!’
‘I’m kidding!’
‘I know you are. But still …’
‘You don’t actually think …?’
‘No! Of course I don’t! Jesus!’
‘Anyway, look, Rach. The bottom line is that Jonno thought he was a decent enough guy. Maybe not marriage material, you know, but decent enough.’
Rachel gulped drily. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘OK. Was there anything else?’
‘Er, no, that was all Jonno got. The young woman hepicked up off the street, referring to her as a freak, and the weird business set-up. And – oh, yeah. He’s fucking nuts about you.’
Rachel’s stomach roiled pleasantly. Yes, she thought, yes. He is. And I am mad about him. And that is all that matters.
‘Well,’ she said, wanting to end the call, her head spinning with children in lock-ups and engagement rings and buskers and the incongruity of everything smashing together like furniture on a boat in a storm. ‘Please say thanks to Jonno. Tell him I’m really grateful. And you, take care of yourself and your little goldfish.’
She ended the call and breathed in hard. She corralled her thoughts before they made her any dizzier; lined them up and examined them. So, Lucy was quite young when Michael met her. That didn’t necessarily mean that they started a relationship then. Maybe he just took care of her, kept her safe, and then something deeper blossomed between them. The business thing: well, business was weird. The world was full of strange operations, and companies carved into odd shapes to fit through loopholes and avoid taxes and make more money for less output. So what? Michael had told her that he oversaw a few operations, mainly import/export. He’d been honest with her about that. He’d told her about Lucy being a busker, about taking her in off the street. He’d told her she was a nightmare. There was nothing new here. There was nothing to worry about.
Rachel went back to Paige’s studio. ‘So,’ she began, opening a sketchbook and placing it in front of her, ‘I’ve made a few rough designs.’
