by Sofia Grey
The second was better, younger and more likeable. She spoke nicely to Poppy, and eagerly told them she would love the opportunity to live away from London. The only downside was that she was reluctant to travel abroad, and the concept of living out of hotels for several months at a time didn’t appeal.
She’d be a good fall-back if nobody better came along, but their hopes were firmly pinned on the third candidate.
Daisy was only twenty-five, but with several years of experience looking after boisterous twins. Her current employers were moving permanently to the U.S., and although they invited her to join them, she didn’t want to leave England and her family behind. She was a Manchester girl too, which made Sylvie feel more at home.
They’d only asked a few questions, when Daisy blushed bright pink. “I have to ask,” she said. “Are you AJ from Event Horizon? And would you be Sizzle?”
“Yes,” replied Sylvie. “Does that make a difference?”
Daisy grinned. “Yeah. What do you think? I’ve been offered another position, nannying for a writer in Harrogate. Yorkshire is lovely, but compared with the chance to travel round the world with Event Horizon? I’d cut my arm off to get this opportunity.” She clapped her hands to her red cheeks. “Well, I’d be a rubbish nanny with only one arm, but you get what I mean.”
Alex chuckled, and Sylvie followed, and like that, the interview relaxed. Kate grilled Daisy about how she’d deal with particular situations, and how she felt about working unsociable hours and having to potentially look after Callum by herself for long periods of time. They talked about Callum possibly being a difficult and clingy child, who’d experienced a lot of change so far in his short life.
Alex told her about the stresses of touring, the frantic periods of activity interspersed with shorter periods of quiet, and Daisy responded to everything brilliantly. Even better, she was available almost immediately. They hired her on the spot.
With the interviews complete, Kate would get the paperwork underway, giving them the chance to make an early evening shuttle back to Manchester.
Sylvie pretended to read a magazine on the short flight, but her mind spun in circles. She hadn’t gotten used to her life with Alex, but in a week’s time they’d be sharing their house with two other people. And unlike the band and crew, Callum and Daisy wouldn’t leave when the album was done. It was additional pressure weighing her down.
In contrast to her subdued mood, Alex was hyped up with excitement and eager to get back to the studio. He scribbled lyrics on the back of an envelope, lost in his own world. Typing notes into his phone felt alien, he said. He preferred the feel of a pen in his hand, so Sylvie always carried a pen and paper with her.
She dozed on the drive to Rhosneigr, waking with a jerk when she heard her name called. “Huh? Did you say something?” She mumbled to Alex in the darkened car, and he glanced at her.
“No, babe. You were sleeping.” He smiled with a flash of white teeth as they drove past a streetlight, the interior lighting up with an amber glow before going dark again. He reached out with his hand, to mesh with her fingers, and he hummed along to the music playing. It was a rock track she didn’t recognise.
How close to home were they? She peered out of the windows. Fields and empty land flew by. It all looked the same at night.
The bassline caught her interest, and she paid attention to the music. It was a lively song with a driving beat. She liked it. “Good track. Who is it?”
“Kiwi band called Shihad. They’re supporting us on the New Zealand leg.”
“Okay.”
In the distance, the lights of the Menai Bridge were a landmark she recognised. They were half an hour from home, and she’d been asleep for less than an hour. If anything, she felt worse for the nap.
Alex sang along as he drove, tapping gently against her knee with his fingertips, while she watched the road flash by. It was a good metaphor for her life.
Back home, he brewed a huge jug of coffee and announced he was going to work in the studio. He pulled her close and kissed her gently on the lips. “Go to bed. You look done in. It’s back to work tomorrow, so make the most of the early night. I won’t be late.”
“Slave driver,” she said with an attempt at a smile, and he winked at her, then disappeared to the basement. She waited until he was gone, before she went in search of Frankie. There was an awkward request she needed to make, and it had to be in private.
She found him working in Alex’s office.
“Hey, Frankie.” Now she was here, she wasn’t sure how to say it.
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “You look tired, Sylvie. Are you still not sleeping?”
Her head buzzed from the after effects of too much caffeine. “No,” she whispered.
“Need something to help?” Frankie pushed the door closed with his foot. “AJ doesn’t need to know.”
Another secret to be kept. She hated herself. It wasn’t enough to stop her, though. She took the two white tablets Frankie offered, and then went to bed.
****
The conference ran late on Wednesday, and Adele was hungry when she returned to the hotel with Nick. All day they avoided mention of sharing a bed last night. Would he stay again tonight? He kept her demons away, and from that perspective, she hoped for the same again. But it made things complicated.
She liked Lara. Liked her generosity and quick intelligence. Lara was someone she could be friends with one day, when Adele found her way back to normal. There’d come a time when she didn’t wake rigid with fear and could talk to strangers—to men—without panicking over what they might do to her.
She had to be patient. Baby steps.
Until then, she could either lock herself in her room, or hold her head high and pretend. Fake it until she made it.
The lift pinged for their floor, and Adele steeled herself. “I want to ask you something,” she said.
“Sure.”
Was it her imagination, or did he look a touch uncomfortable? “You know how, when you fall off a horse, you’re supposed to get straight back in the saddle before you get too scared?”
“You want to take up horse riding?”
“No. I want to go to a club.”
His surprise was visible, but he said, “okay. When?”
“Tonight, for a little while. Let’s get dinner out, and then go dancing.” She hesitated but forced a smile. “But you will stay with me while we’re out. Won’t you?”
“I’ll stick to you like glue. I need to call Lara first. Give me a few minutes.”
That was enough time to freshen up and give herself a stern talking to. Baby steps. Who was she kidding? This was a freaking hundred-metre hurdle race, but Nick would look after her. She didn’t question that for a second.
He knew the coolest places in the city, and after a steak and shoestring fries in a quiet bar, he took her to a cosy club behind the Champs-Elysees, a short taxi ride from the hotel.
It was filled with beautiful people, most of them in business clothes, and Adele felt at home. More to the point, she felt safe. Maybe that was due to the attentive man at her side?
One beer was her limit, and she never let the drink out of her sight, clinging to it when she danced with Nick. She could do this, in small doses.
After an hour, she was ready to leave.
Nick wrapped his arm around her waist as they headed outside. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “You’re strong. Don’t forget it.”
“Thank you.” She snuggled closer. “I don’t feel it, and I know I’ll be freaking out again in the hotel room. Will you stay with me again tonight? Please?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“I know.” She scrambled to sound confident. “I’m being silly.”
“I don’t think that.” He huffed a sigh. “I find it hard to say no to you, Melda.”
Relief made her light-headed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
They sat on her hotel bed in pyjamas and watched an arty movie, while making
fun of the English subtitles.
Adele let herself relax. They only had one more night after this, and then they were going back to London. She’d enjoy his company tonight, and maybe again tomorrow, and then she’d slip back to her old life. This little interlude in Paris was what she needed. Like a fling without the physical side.
The film finished, and Nick switched off the TV. “We need to talk about Lara,” he said. “I don’t want her to know about this. Any of it.” He turned to face Adele, and she saw how serious he was. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Me neither. She’s been so good to me. You both have.”
Nick opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a finger against his lips.
“Let’s agree that this is our secret. We don’t tell anybody,” she said.
“Agreed.”
The mood between them felt charged, emotions swirling in the air. Adele squashed down her anxiety and made herself laugh. It sounded rusty to her ears. “Okay. Enough serious talk,” she said. “Let’s find another arthouse movie to rip apart.”
****
Jordan was surprised to be visited by the police at his apartment on Wednesday night. There were two detectives, and they seemed bored, as though this was another routine call to be carried out.
After checking the CCTV footage, they said, it was clear Jason had been pushed, as opposed to jumping. The pictures were grainy, but from the way the body lurched forwards, arms flailing, they were convinced it wasn’t suicide. They wanted to know if Jordan was aware of anyone who may have had a grudge against Farnley.
If Lara’s supposition was true, it might be linked to Jason’s death. There was no evidence yet, though. And if he said anything, and he was wrong, he’d have put an innocent man through needless trauma.
He adopted a poker face, locking his emotions down tight. “I have no idea.”
There was a steady stream of polite questions, which he fielded with ease. Jason was recently promoted to Chief Financial Officer for TM-Tech Europe, but Jordan had only been his direct manager for a matter of weeks and didn’t know him well. He had no knowledge of Jason outside of work.
After that, Jordan assured the detectives that his staff would cooperate fully with the investigations and that his PA would set up an office in the TM-Tech building, for the police to use for their initial interviews. He also said he’d ask his executive team to make themselves available for immediate interviews. As Jason’s peers, they might know more about him.
The police left after half an hour, and Jordan was able to sit down with a beer. He hated to hide the truth, but it felt wrong to talk about the theories concerning Jason. Apart from anything else, it was unfair to involve Lara at this time of night, when she was home alone. Jordan would pick this up with Aiden in the morning and see if he’d made any progress.
Jordan’s head felt as though he had knives digging into it. After looking at the usual medical supplies and finding no painkillers, he asked Kate if she had any.
“Here.” She held out a blister pack. “I had these in the bathroom. Are you okay, darling?”
He swallowed two with a swig of beer. “I think it’s tension. This whole business with Jason has been bugging me all day.”
“Let me know if it gets any worse. You know how I worry about you.”
“I will.” He hated himself for lying. Hiding his fears from Kate was wrong, but until she reached the magical twelve-week mark in her pregnancy, it was the only thing he could do.
Chapter Twenty
The conference had a later start on Thursday, and after spending another platonic night in Adele’s bed, Nick was finishing breakfast in her room again, when his phone rang.
Adele picked it up. “Hi, it’s Adele.”
The look of horror on her face was almost comical.
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re on our way out, and I picked up Nick’s phone by mistake. Same ringtone. Sorry about the confusion.” She listened and said, “He’s just here somewhere. One moment.” Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she called Nick’s name loudly.
He grinned at the pantomime and took the phone she thrust in his hand. “Hi. Nick speaking.”
“Hey. It’s me.” Lara sounded desolate, and guilt swamped him.
“What’s up?” He struggled to keep his voice normal.
“Did you hear the police opened a murder enquiry? They think Jason was pushed, instead of jumping.”
What? Did he hear her correctly? “No. Seriously?”
“I had a catch-up first thing, with Jordan and his consultant, Aiden.” She hesitated. “I had to tell them everything I knew.”
“You told them what we thought Jason did to Adele?” Nick watched Adele lift her head, her gaze focused on his face.
“Yes,” said Lara. “I had to. I’ll probably be interviewed by the police, too. They’ll want to talk to you as well, and Adele of course.”
Poor Adele. She wanted to keep this private, but if there was a murder enquiry, there could be no secrets.
“Do they know we’re not back until tomorrow evening?”
“I guess. You must tell her I’m sorry. I’m sure she didn’t want it to come out this way.” She sighed. “And Nick, I stressed to Jordan how honest you are.”
It was an odd thing to say. What was she implying? While Nick tried to form a suitable response, Lara said goodbye, blew him a kiss, and disconnected. He was left with the unpleasant task of updating Adele.
Her eyes were wide and scared, and her voice came out as a whisper. “So Jordan knows? My boss knows I was raped?”
Nick nodded.
“Fucking brilliant. How hideously embarrassing. I don’t suppose Lara could have kept quiet?”
“Adele, the police are investigating a murder. They need to know about this.”
“I know,” she cried, “but why did Lara have to tell Jordan, of all people.” She subsided and wrapped her arms around herself. She was trembling like a sapling in a strong breeze.
It was another step across a blurred line, but Nick took her in his arms and held her until she calmed down. He dropped little kisses to her hair and couldn’t help wondering what she’d do if he kissed her for real. He wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from remembering the one time they had sex—how good it was, how perfect Adele was for him.
No matter how he tried to justify his actions to himself, he couldn’t. It was wrong to behave like this, and he hated himself for it. Everything he’d done with Adele had to stay a secret, or Lara would never trust him again.
****
Jordan called an emergency meeting to brief his senior managers. Since Nick and Adele were still in Paris, they joined via a conference call.
He outlined the news about Jason’s death, and asked for everyone’s cooperation. Maybe some people knew Jason outside of work, through the gym or other sports, drinking haunts, girlfriends, and so on. Any information might be relevant.
The team filed out of the room in silence. This sordid affair was casting a dark cloud over the company, at a time when they didn’t need it. Thaddeus was pushing hard to get quick results to the investigation, and Jordan shared his concerns about their reputation. TM-Tech was bidding for a significant piece of business with the Ministry of Defence, with a contract that would guarantee their return to profitability. It was taking every part of Jordan’s concentration to keep a steady hand on the negotiations.
He didn’t need a follow-up visit from the police, later that morning.
They thanked him for his assistance, but had more requests. They wanted access to Jason’s office and desk, to go through his belongings. To the best of Jordan’s knowledge, nobody’d used Jason’s office since it was last used on Tuesday, two days ago.
Then the police mentioned inconsistencies about the body.
“What do you mean?”
The first detective, Sergeant Cooper, flicked through his notebook. “Granted, there wasn’t much left of the body. It was only identified by the belongings he was carry
ing—his wallet and driving licence. He didn’t appear to have a mobile phone, which is unusual these days, or any keys. We did a thorough search of the accident site and could find neither.”
“Could they be in his desk? But how would he get home without keys?”
“Precisely. And the phone is a strange thing to go missing, unless it was stolen. It would be a curious coincidence.”
Jordan didn’t know what they expected him to say.
The second officer, Constable Moore, said, “We did a search of his apartment, and we found a suicide note.”
Huh? “You said you’re investigating this as a murder. Why would you, if he left a suicide note?”
“It’s a puzzle, isn’t it? Would you like to see a copy?” Constable Moore handed Jordan a typed sheet of paper.
To whom it may concern.
I can’t take the stress any longer. I’m sorry to do this.
Jason
Jordan shook his head, baffled. “I don’t understand. Does this mean you’re looking at it as a suicide again?”
Sergeant Cooper shrugged, his face impassive. “We have no idea, Sir. It certainly adds another complication to an already complicated picture.”
****
Thanks to Frankie’s little pills, Sylvie slept all night, but at a cost. Her mouth was dry, and had a metallic taste, her limbs felt heavy, and her head buzzed. On the good side, there’d been no dreams. It was as though she blacked out the moment her head hit the pillow. She never experienced such deep, dark sleep before.
She drifted downstairs and into the kitchen, where she made and drank a strong coffee, then waited for the caffeine buzz to lift her, before heading into the studio to find Alex.
He was in a brilliant mood and greeted her with a hug that swept her off her feet. “Great news,” he cried. “Social Services approved us to be foster carers for Callum. We can collect him next weekend.”
It was all becoming real. Talking about adopting Callum, even interviewing the nannies, had been an abstract concept until now. He’d be here in a week or so. Instead of the intense surge of anxiety she expected, Sylvie felt strangely detached. Was this another side effect of Frankie’s pills?
