I stepped into the role of dutiful son at this time. I slept at the Hampstead house, often woken up several times a night by Simon, who would want to point out more ways in which someone was trying to kill him. These were always nonsense – a man he thought was loitering outside the front gates, or a car parked too near his office entrance. He was just looking for signs. Every time a window rattled, the man would fall apart. Not that the windows at his house rattled, the originals had long been ripped out and replaced with sturdy double glazing.
We became close, as I leant into my new position as closest relative and confidant, hopeful that it would be short-lived with your assistance. I helped organise all the grim things that need doing when someone dies. And I listened when he wanted to scream and shout about it all, which was often. He became more and more unbearable as the weeks went on and from what I could see, you weren’t doing much. I occasionally saw you lingering outside his gates, you know. It wasn’t very subtle, Grace, I must say. Even if you did have some big plan in the works, I was beginning to despair of you being able to get near Simon. His security detail was immense by now, he was surrounded by burly men who would have snapped you like a twig if you’d got within five feet of him.
I began to feel furious with you, which is bonkers, isn’t it? But I felt like I had finally figured out how to extricate myself from this appalling situation and I’d come to imagine that we were working in tandem and to a schedule. But you weren’t playing ball. I barely had time to follow you much back then, since Simon was growing more aggressive, more erratic, more dependent on me. But when I did, I saw you going for dinners and heading off on long runs, carrying on as if you’d not got one more target to tick off, and I was confused by your lack of momentum.
I was barely able to function at work because he called every five minutes, crying or drunk or both. I’d turn my phone off and he’d email me. I began to flinch whenever I looked at my inbox. I pride myself on being a hard worker, I really do think that work makes a man and I was furious with myself for doing a half-arsed job when I was meant to be attacking this opportunity and rising up through the company. Bonus time was looming and I could just see mine shrinking every time my boss saw me on the phone.
Looking back, my mental health was plummeting, something I’d never even considered before. My sleep was shot to pieces, my weight dropped alarmingly, no matter what I ate. I just felt completely trapped, like a fox in a hole. It’s rather put me off hunting now that I see the analogy actually. Another thing Simon has ruined for me. But he wouldn’t leave me alone and his will was overwhelming. Eventually, I marched round there and told him that I couldn’t do it anymore. I was firm but I was calm. I told him he was behaving appallingly and couldn’t treat me like one of his assistants. I went on and on until he started crying again, but I wasn’t swayed this time. The tears dried up pretty fast when he realised I wasn’t going to comfort him, and he walked over to his desk and sat down. I carried on listing the ways I felt he wasn’t being a gent, getting so worked up that I wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing until he came back over to me and presented me with a cheque. It was made out for ￡500,000. That stopped me in my tracks, I can tell you. My mouth hung open for a few seconds as he pushed it into my face and told me that if I went with him to St Tropez for a week, he’d make sure it was worth my while.
‘I need to be out of the country for a few days, just keep my head down, son. And I don’t want to go alone. Don’t tell me this wouldn’t help your mum. What about those girls, Harry? They need this. It’s just a week or so.’ I stayed silent, weighing it all up in my mind, and he watched me, eyes narrow. ‘You’re bargaining with me, is that it? Well there’s no clearer sign that you’re my son. I’ll make it official. I’ll make over an inheritance. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what everyone wants in the end.’ He wasn’t wrong there. But he couldn’t see that he made his money the only currency he had in life all by himself.
Simon wasn’t clear about why he needed to leave the country initially, but for all he fudged it, it became clear that there was some kind of investigation into his company going on and his advisers had strongly suggested he not be available for a while. I wondered which part of the company was likely the most dodgy （the airline seemed a prime contender） but to be honest, Grace, having seen how he worked, it could have been any of them. It was clear that shit was about to hit the proverbial but I couldn’t concern myself with that. I wouldn’t get more enmeshed in his villainous world. That’s how I saw it by now. A seedy and nasty life that I was ashamed to have gone looking for. But that kind of money was impossible to ignore, and I would have been a fool to do so. And that is why, not six hours later, I stepped off a private jet and out into the warm French air. If I’d known what would happen I might have asked for that cheque to have a few more zeros on the end.