Chapter 5: The Ally Naomi Didn't Expect
Ruth called the next morning before eight.
"I spoke to a colleague last night.
Family law.
She wants to talk to you."
"Already?"
"I described the situation.
She said the text message alone is significant.
An anonymous threat following a documented confrontation — that's not nothing, Naomi."
"I don't know for certain it was Vanessa."
"No.
But you know it wasn't a wrong number."
Naomi exhaled.
"Who's the colleague?"
"Her name is Carol Ashby.
She's been doing family law for twenty-two years.
She's good, and she's not easily rattled." A pause.
"She also has a four-year-old granddaughter.
I mention that only because she understood immediately why this matters."
The meeting was set for Monday afternoon.
But Sunday changed everything.
Naomi was at the park with Maisie — a rare afternoon, Graham had agreed to the visit without argument — when a woman sat down on the bench beside her.
Sixties, neat grey coat, a paper coffee cup in both hands.
"You're Naomi," the woman said.
Not a question.
Naomi turned.
She didn't recognise the face.
"I am."
"I'm Eleanor Mercer.
Graham's aunt."
Naomi had heard the name once or twice, years ago.
Graham's father's sister.
The one who lived in Edinburgh and rarely came down.
"I arrived yesterday," Eleanor said.
"Graham doesn't know I'm here yet." She watched Maisie on the climbing frame for a moment.
"She has his eyes."
"She does."
Eleanor turned her coffee cup slowly in her hands.
"I want you to know something.
I was at the wedding."
Naomi said nothing.
"I saw what happened in that ballroom.
I saw that little girl standing there in her dress, and I saw what Vanessa did — or rather, what she refused to do." Eleanor paused.
"And I saw what you did."
"I shouldn't have sl\*pped her."
"No," Eleanor agreed.
"But I understood why you did.
And I've watched what's happened in that family since." She looked down at her coffee.
"My brother — Graham's father — he knows something is wrong.
He won't say it.
But he knows.
His wife is under Vanessa's thumb now, which is its own kind of tragedy."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Eleanor looked at her directly.
"Because I've been watching that little girl on the climbing frame for the last ten minutes, and she's called out for you four times.
Not for Graham.
Not for anyone else.
For you." She paused.
"And because I have something you might need."
She reached into her coat pocket and set a small USB drive on the bench between them.
"Vanessa had dinner at my brother's house six weeks ago.
She didn't know I was visiting.
She didn't know the study has very thin walls." Eleanor stood, smoothing her coat.
"She was on the phone for a long time.
She was talking to someone about a solicitor.
About what it would take to establish primary residency.
About how long the process would take if Graham filed."
Naomi looked at the drive on the bench.
"She used Maisie's name," Eleanor said quietly.
"Several times.
Not with warmth."
Naomi picked up the drive.
Her hand was steady, but only just.
"Why didn't you go to Graham with this?"
"I tried.
He told me I was misunderstanding the situation." Eleanor picked up her coffee.
"He loves that woman.
And he wants very much to believe she loves him back in the same way." She looked once more at Maisie.
"But that child is four years old, and she deserves someone fighting for her who isn't confused about what they're fighting for."
She walked away across the park without looking back.
Maisie came running from the climbing frame a moment later, cheeks pink, arms out.
"Mummy!
Did you see?
I went all the way to the top!"
Naomi caught her and held her close, face pressed into her daughter's hair.
May you like
"I saw," she said.
"I saw every bit of it."
