The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,123

‘Women who’ve been abused, humiliated and terrified. They have nowhere else to go. We provide a place of safety, where they can start to build their lives again away from the men that terrorised them.’ I stopped, to gather myself, to tamp down my anger. ‘Their safety relies on the refuge being anonymous.’ Taking two steps I stood in front of Victoria. ‘And yet you, with your fancy clothes, designer handbags, posh car, put these women, who have nothing, at risk, all for the sake of your desire to get one over on me because I wouldn’t tell you what my job was. You put those women in danger and I’ll never forgive you for that.’

She gaped and a couple of the other women shuffled uncomfortably.

‘But … I didn’t—’

‘You didn’t know. That doesn’t excuse it. Why was it so important for you to know? Ask yourself that?’

She stared at me and I could see her trying to justify it.

‘You’re obsessed. You’re not making rational decisions. Following me to work. Puncturing my tyres. Stalking Sam on your phone. And worst of all, wrecking his cricket career. If you really loved him as much as you say you do, why would you do that? Take away something that he loves?’

I focused on Paige. ‘Do you know why Sam hasn’t been picked this season to play for the county team?’

Her eyes widened at the sudden attention and a group of older men at the bar paused and I could see them tuning in to the conversation.

‘Er, no.’

‘Haven’t you wondered? Mike not said anything?’

Her face sharpened and she gave Victoria a quick, sharp glance. ‘Just bad luck,’ she suggested, but I could see that my words had made an impression.

Victoria tossed her hair again and shot me a terse, quick smile.

‘You don’t know anything about it.’

‘What, that you’ve been telling someone not to pick him?’

‘Nonsense. Where on earth did you hear that rubbish?’

‘Sam’s mum, actually.’

I saw her throat dip. Gotcha, I thought.

‘As if I have any influence.’

‘Again, that’s not what I heard. I hear you have considerable influence, as you know someone on the selection committee. I believe it’s the chairman.’

She pursed her lips and there it was again, that quick sidelong glance to the bar.

‘So you haven’t been telling anyone that Sam isn’t as committed anymore? Not telling people that he’s missed lots of games?’ I deliberately projected my voice so it rose above the low-level chatter in the room.

Once again, Victoria slipped another look towards the men and one of them detached himself and came over to stand next to Victoria. I saw the family resemblance immediately.

‘Is there a problem, darling?’

‘No, Daddy. This is Sam’s ex-girlfriend.’

He gave me a sour look.

‘She’s just leaving.’

‘I wasn’t, actually. It was you I wanted to talk to, Mr Langley-Jones. I understood that cricket was a game played by gentleman of honour and integrity.’ My eyes bored into him. ‘So I was surprised to hear that you’ve been vetoing Sam’s inclusion in the county side.’

‘I don’t know where you got that information.’

‘That doesn’t really matter, because you and I both know it’s true, and I heard it from another committee member, if you want to know.’ Dad’s mate had been extremely informative and checked back through his meeting minutes for me. ‘I have copies of the minutes of those meetings.’ I didn’t, it was a bluff, but I could get them if I had to.

‘If the boy’s not prepared to play, keeps missing matches, and isn’t showing the necessary commitment, I’m fully justified.’

‘Not if the information you’re basing that decision on is incorrect. I believe that cricket clubs keep very detailed records of every match. Scores, runs, team names.’ Thanks, Dad. I wouldn’t have known any of that stuff.

Under his bushy grey eyebrows, Mr Langley-Jones’ eyes narrowed. ‘So?’

‘I think if you were to check, you’d find that Sam’s batting averages are higher this year. He’s missed two games this season.’

‘I’m sure that’s not the case,’ he blustered, looking at his daughter. ‘I’m aware that Sam has missed lots of matches this year.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘And how were you made aware of this?’ I was rather proud of myself. I sounded every inch the representative for the defence.

‘I don’t have to answer to you,’ he said, his cheeks turning pink.

‘No, you don’t. Just your conscience. Which, if I were you, I would check. And I’d check your facts. I’ll tell you what I know. You’ve vetoed Sam’s inclusion in the side a total of eleven times this