The Legacy

is that Richard Pincent wants the ring,’ he said uncomfortably.
    ‘And the bad news?’ Peter asked. Jude didn’t answer. ‘Where are we anyway?’ Peter asked, looking around.
    ‘New headquarters,’ Jude said flatly. Then he turned to Peter. ‘Do you have the ring?’
    ‘Of course,’ Peter said, reaching into his pocket. Then he frowned. ‘I had it . . .’ he said, going white.
    He stood up and searched every pocket. ‘I had it when I got here. I know I did,’ he said frantically. ‘Is it important? Why do you need it anyway?’
    Jude didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
    Then he looked around. ‘Where’s Sheila?’ he asked quietly.
    Sam, who’d been staring at Peter as though he were a ghost, appeared to shake himself. ‘In there,’ he said, pointing to a door. Jude ran towards it and pulled open the door. ‘She’s not there,’ he said, turning back to Sam. ‘Is she with the children?’
    Sam rushed around, pulling open cupboard doors, but within seconds they knew she had gone; the new Underground headquarters were half the size of the last place and there were few places to hide.
    ‘I don’t know how . . . I was on the door all the time. Except for unpacking. Except for –’
    ‘Sheila took the ring?’ Peter asked incredulously. ‘Is that what you think? Why would she do that? What’s going on, Jude? Tell me what’s happening.’
    Jude turned back to his computer and opened recent files; as he scanned them he filled Peter in on what had been happening.
    His brother didn’t take the news of Pip well. ‘He’s been captured? He turned himself in? It’s impossible . . .’ he was saying.
    But Jude wasn’t listening. He was staring at a file he thought he’d deleted, a list of the Palmers that he’d tracked down. Uncertainly he scanned the names.
    ‘What?’ Peter demanded again. ‘Do you know where she is?’
    Jude looked at him uncertainly. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, a feeling of dread rising up within him. What had his princess done? Why had she been driven to this?
    He bit his lip, trying to think. She had the ring, but she was still looking for the Palmers. Where would she be? There were nearly fifteen names and addresses on the screen and they didn’t have time to go to every one. Had she contacted them? Surely she knew where she was going before she left?
    He stared at the desk in front of him, then noticed a notebook. The top page had been ripped out; beneath it the imprint of writing could be seen. Immediately he grabbed it.
    Peter ran his hand through his hair. ‘Jude, forget about Sheila,’ he said. ‘If she’s gone, so be it. We need to get Pip. That’s what matters.’
    ‘Sheila is what matters,’ Jude said grimly, his mind racing. Already a plan was forming in his mind. But the plan required preparation. He needed to get back to his computer; needed to get back into the Pincent Pharma security system. But most of all he needed to find Sheila. ‘It looks like Sheila has your ring. Your grandfather wants your ring. Without it, we’ve got nothing to bargain with. We need Sheila, otherwise we’ve got nothing.’
    ‘So where do we start looking?’ Peter asked.
    Jude looked back at the scrap of paper, his mind clouding with worry, with anger, with uncertainty. ‘She’s in Muswell Hill,’ he said. ‘At least I think she is. You wait here and I’ll go and see.’
    Peter looked down at his clothes, which still bore footprints on them. ‘I’m not waiting anywhere,’ he said gruffly. ‘If you go, I go. Understand?’
    Jude thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘In that case, give me five minutes and we’ll go.’

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    Chapter Nineteen
     
    Julia heard the front door open but didn’t move. She was sitting on the sofa in the bay window at the front of the house, the sun streaming down on her through the double-glazed windows. She felt warm, she felt comfortable, she felt happy.
    She heard her husband’s footsteps on the wooden hallway floor, the same footsteps she’d heard for decades, as he took off his coat, put down his keys, straightened his tie in the hallway mirror. She lifted her head slightly; any second now he would appear in the doorway, his expression serious as ever, offering her a sherry, enquiring what time supper would be ready even though they always ate at exactly the same time. Always had.
    And there he was. She smiled. ‘Hello, darling.’
    He frowned; it had been a long time since she’d used that word. A long time since