The Millionaire's Mistress

‘He...he’s dead, isn’t he?’ she blurted out, a silent scream in her head.

The officer nodded sadly. ‘I’m truly sorry, miss.’

‘I...I suppose it was a car accident,’ she choked out, thinking how often she’d chided her father for driving too fast.

The two police officers exchanged another, more meaningful glance, and Justine stiffened.

‘Er...no, miss. Not a car accident. I’m sorry. I really think that—’

‘Tell me, for pity’s sake!’ she interrupted. ‘I need to know the truth!’

The older officer sighed. ‘Your father had a fatal coronary in a Kings Cross club where gentlemen go to be...er...entertained.’

Justine rocked back, gripping the front door for support, her eyes wide upon the bearer of this almost unbelievable news.

‘Let me get this straight, Sergeant,’ she said slowly, her mouth parched. ‘Are you saying my father died in a brothel?’

He looked painfully embarrassed and reluctant to repeat his news. ‘Um...yes, miss,’ he finally admitted. ‘That’s what I’m saying. Look, I realise this has come as a shock. Unfortunately, there—’

‘Who’s that at the door, darling?’

The policemen broke off. Justine whirled round.

Adelaide Montgomery was coming down the stairs, sashing her dressing-gown, a frown on her plumply pretty face. ‘Is there anything wrong?’ she asked worriedly in her little-girl voice.

Justine watched her mother blanch at the sight of the two policemen at the front door, watched as Adelaide’s eyes filled with panic and fear. She clutched at the neckline of her robe with both hands as she swayed on unsteady feet. ‘Oh, dear God, no! Not Grayson...’

Justine hurried to hold her mother before she fainted, knowing that their lives would never be the same again.

CHAPTER TWO

‘A BOARDING house!’ her mother exclaimed in horror. ‘You want to turn my home into a boarding house? Oh, no, no, no. That would never do, Justine. It’s out of the question. Goodness, whatever will my friends think?’

‘Who cares what they think?’ came Justine’s frustrated reply. ‘Most of them are just fair-weather friends anyway. How many phone calls or visits have you had from your so-called friends lately?’ Justine asked her mother. ‘How many invitations? They all came to the funeral, mouthing platitudes of sympathy and support, but as soon as they found out all our money was gone, they dropped us like hot-cakes. It’s as though we’ve suddenly got a brand on our foreheads. Poor, it says. To be given a wide berth.’

‘Oh, Justine, you’re imagining things. Why, only yesterday I received an invitation in the mail from Ivy, inviting us both to Felix’s fiftieth birthday party this coming Saturday evening.’

Justine refrained from pointing out that that was probably Trudy’s doing, Ivy being Trudy’s mother. The invitation had been suspiciously late. Yesterday was Wednesday, after all. No doubt Trudy had made a fuss when she’d found out Justine and her mother were not on the guest list for her father’s party and insisted her mother ask them.

Justine didn’t like Ivy Turrell one bit. She was an awful snob. Her husband wasn’t much better. Felix had made a fortune selling insurance, and only invited people to his home who could be of benefit to him. Naturally, there’d been a time when the well-to-do Montgomerys had always been on the Turrells’ guest-list. Not so for much longer, Justine thought ruefully.

‘People are giving us a little time to get over our grief,’ her mother went on, seeing through her usual rose-coloured glasses. ‘We’re not really poor, and it’s only been two months since your father...since he...he...’ She slumped down on the side of her unmade bed, her hands twisting together in her lap. ‘Since the funeral,’ she finished in a strangled tone.

Justine sat down beside her, sliding a comforting arm around her sagging shoulders.

‘Mum, we have to face facts. We are poor, compared to the people we’ve been mixing with. Okay, so technically you still own this house and its contents. But we have no income any more. And Daddy died owing nearly half a million dollars.’

‘But I don’t understand,’ her mother wailed.

‘Where did all the money go? I inherited a considerable amount from my parents when they passed away. It all came to me. I was their only child.’

‘Daddy spent it all, Mum. And in a way, so did we. Neither of us ever asked where he got the money for our generous allowances, did we? We never budgeted, never went out to work ourselves, never questioned our lifestyles of sheer luxury. We just accepted all this as our due,’ she finished, waving around at the opulent bedroom, with its silk furnishings and antique furniture.

‘But Grayson never liked my asking him questions,’ came the tremulous excuse.

Justine patted her mother’s hands. ‘I know, Mum. I know.’

‘He...he used to get angry if I asked him questions.’

Bastard, Justine thought bitterly.

She’d once loved and admired her father, but not any more. She knew the real man now, not the smiling sugar-daddy who’d obviously thought being a husband and father was covered by keeping his wife and daughter’s bank accounts topped up. The truth was he’d shamefully neglected his family, relying on his empty charm to keep sweet the women in his life.

Justine was forced to accept now that her father had married her mother for money, never love. Grayson Montgomery’s greed had been as prodigious as his lust. One of the worst rumours she’d heard since his death was that he’d taken advantage of several elderly and very wealthy widows who’d consulted him about investments, worming his way into their affections and becoming a beneficiary in their wills—money which he’d subsequently frittered away.

Justine didn’t doubt any of it. She only had to look at their own dire financial situation to know the truth about the man. Over the last few years, her father had cashed in every viable asset to bankroll his increasingly expensive lifestyle. His rampant gambling plus regular visits to high-class call girls had cost quite a bit. He’d died with no life insurance, a considerable overdraft and a massive personal loan on which the family home had been offered as security. His Jaguar had since been repossessed, as had her mother’s Astra. Only her own Nissan was unencumbered. But even that would have to go. Justine would have to trade it in next week, for a cheaper, smaller model.

‘We really don’t have any money?’ her mother asked tearfully.

‘None, I’m afraid,’ she confessed. ‘Daddy’s bank is also threatening to sell the house so they can recoup their losses. They will, too.’

Her mother’s eyes flooded with tears and her shoulders began to shake. ‘But this is my home. My father bought it when he married my mother sixty years ago. I was born here. Brought up here. All my memories are here. I...I couldn’t bear to lose this as well.’

Justine could see that. It had been her home as well, since her grandparents had passed away. She didn’t want to sell the house, but someone had to be practical; someone had to face reality and do something to make ends meet!

Like her mother, Justine had spent her entire life not having to worry about a thing, and it hadn’t been easy for her since her father’s death. But oddly enough, in adversity Justine had found hidden strengths of character she hadn’t realised she possessed. One was a determination not to succumb to self-pity.

‘Which is why I’m trying to save it,’ she pointed out firmly to her mother. ‘The boarding house idea is the only solution. Even so, we’re going to have to auction off some of the contents to reduce the loan. I thought I’d start with the things Grandma left me in her will. They’re quite valuable, you know.’

Up till today, Justine’s mother had simply refused to face what her husband had done, both in life and in death. She’d gone along blithely pretending that everything would come out right in the end if she buried her head in the sand long enough.

Justine watched now as she struggled to accept reality. Unfortunately, her mother’s ingrained habit of ignoring unpalatable facts was simply too strong.

Instead of facing their situation, she became stroppy. ‘Part with your grandmother’s legacy? Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it! I...I’ll go down to the bank manager myself tomorrow and explain. I’m sure he can wait till we both get jobs and can repay your father’s debts.’

Justine could not believe her mother’s naïvety! Who on earth was going to employ a fifty-seven-year-old woman who’d never worked in her life? Her own prospects weren’t much better!

‘Mum, neither of us have skills to offer an employer,’ she explained patiently. ‘I’d have some chance because I’m younger. But nothing fancy. Even if I was lucky enough to get a job in a boutique or a supermarket, my salary would not even touch the sides of the loan repayments. Our only chance is to run a business. We have five spare bedrooms in this house if we share this one. Daddy’s study could be made into a bedroom as well, since it has a very comfy convertible sofa. The university is just down the road. We could bring in good money by renting all six rooms to students who want full board.’

‘But who would do all the cooking and cleaning? You let Gladys and June go last week.’

‘We’ll have to do it together, Mum. We can’t afford a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a gardener, for that matter.’

‘Oh, no, not Tom too,’ Adelaide protested.

‘Yes, Tom too. We just don’t have enough money to pay him. Fact is, Mum, we don’t have any money left at all. The electricity bill came in this week, and the phone bill is still unpaid since before Christmas. They’re threatening to cut us off by the end of the week. We’re going to have to sell a few things today to pay those bills and buy some food. Some personal things we don’t really need.’

Adelaide’s head jerked up, her eyes pained. ‘Not my mother’s jewellery!’