Jo thought of the pile of dirty laundry still sitting by the washing machine. ‘No, I didn’t get a chance.’
‘Oh, Mum, what am I going to wear?’
‘You have plenty of nice clothes. Why on earth is she having a party on a school day, anyway? Don’t you have homework?’
‘Not much and the party will be over by six, I’ll have plenty of time.’
‘Well, don’t expect to watch any TV this evening.’
‘But, Mum—’
‘Not another word,’ Jo warned, ‘or you won’t be going to the party at all.’
She let Rachel go to Tracy’s house alone. She didn’t have time to change and put on make-up and she wouldn’t dream of facing the girl’s perfectly coiffed mother looking like this. Rachel skipped off down the road with her card and, looking at her watch, Jo realized that it was time to pick up Di; she hadn’t even had a chance to grab lunch yet. She’d buy a coffee at the petrol station and have it in the car on the way. The Crunchie she bought to go with it was a necessity, she reasoned, and quite probably less calories than a sandwich.
Di was also in a strop and barely opened her mouth all the way home. When Jo asked her for help checking out keep-fit websites, she muttered something about a project and disappeared up to her room. Some project, Jo thought, as moments later the ceiling began to vibrate with her daughter’s music. She hung the clothes out on the line, reloaded the washing machine and carried the basket of ironing into the living room. After she’d set up the board, plugged in the iron and switched on the TV, she put on the kettle, spooned coffee into a mug, her eyes drifting to the jar of cookies. She was standing watching Come Dine With Me, salivating at the creamy dessert they were all tucking into and absently ironing one of Greg’s shirts when Di reappeared.
‘What’s for dinner, Mum?’
It was going to be a nice roast chicken but Jo had forgotten to put it in the oven what with all the running around. ‘Fish fingers and chips.’
Di scrunched up her face. ‘Again? I really want to cut down on chips, Mum, I’m getting fat.’
Jo watched in disbelief as her daughter pinched her tiny waist. ‘You are not remotely fat!’
‘I will be if I keep stuffing my face with chips. Here, Mum, you look tired, let me do that.’
Jo’s eyes widened in delighted surprise. ‘Are you sure? Have you finished your homework?’
‘Yeah, all done.’
‘Ah, thanks, darling; you do your daddy’s shirts so much better than me, he always says so. I’ll see if I can rustle up something a bit healthier although we’ll have to wait for Rachel to get back. She’s at Tracy’s birthday party and I doubt she’ll get fed much over there; everything is white in that house.’
‘Mad, isn’t it?’ Di grinned and swapped places with her mother. ‘I’m starving; maybe I’ll have a couple of cookies to keep me going.’
‘Oh, I think Rachel finished them before she went out,’ Jo lied guiltily. ‘Anyway, I thought you didn’t want to get fat?’
Di pulled a face. ‘Very funny.’
‘Sorry. How about I get you a couple of custard creams and make you a nice cup of tea?’
‘Yes please, and if you want to, we can check out those slimming clubs after dinner.’
‘That would be great, thanks.’ Di was such a good kid when she wasn’t in a sulk, Jo thought, smiling as she hurried back upstairs to the bathroom to make room for dinner.
When Greg arrived home, the bolognese sauce was ready and a pot of water was bubbling in preparation for the pasta when Rachel returned.
‘Where is she?’ he asked irritably, when Jo told him why dinner wasn’t ready.
‘At Tracy’s birthday party; she should be home in ten minutes.’
‘Oh.’ His whole attitude changed immediately and he nodded in approval. ‘I’ll go down and collect her.’
‘There’s no need,’ Jo said, but he was already walking into the hall and she watched as he paused in front of the mirror, smoothed his hair and straightened his tie before he left. She imagined Jools and Jim Donovan’s amusement at his obvious attempt to break into their circle and felt a bit sorry for him. Why was he such a social climber? Why did he feel the need to keep up with the Joneses, or, in this case, the Donovans? He was clever and successful too; she couldn’t begin to understand why he felt the need to crawl to the likes of them. Still, she couldn’t understand Greg much at all these days.
Chapter Six
Marianne swung her legs out of her car, smoothed the skirt of her suit over her hips before collecting her bag, locking the car and crossing the tree-lined avenue to the imposing premises of Matthews and Baldwin. There was something about this office that had always intimidated her. Whether it was the location in the exclusive south-city neighbourhood, the plush reception area with its floor-to-ceiling oak panelling or the haughty receptionists, she didn’t know, but Marianne never felt welcome here and she was quite happy that her ties with the company would soon be cut.
Adrian Matthews kept her waiting for over twenty minutes and by the time she was shown into his office, her smile was strained.
‘Thank you for coming in to see me,’ he said from the other side of his vast oak desk.
Marianne looked at her husband’s boss with his solemn gaze, his iron-grey hair and impeccable grey suit; grey seemed to sum the man up. His expression was forbidding and his tone clipped and formal.
‘I was on the point of contacting you myself,’ she told him. ‘There seems to be a lot of Dominic’s personal papers missing; I’m assuming that he kept them here.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe that we have anything here of that nature, but I’m afraid, even if we did, I couldn’t let you have them.’
‘Excuse me?’ Marianne said, not sure she could believe her ears.
‘Mrs Thomson—’
‘Marianne, please,’ she said, surprised at the formal address.
‘Since Dominic’s death, we have uncovered a number of . . .’ he paused, ‘discrepancies in his client accounts.’
Marianne looked at him in confusion. Whatever his personal troubles, Dominic was good at his job; he’d achieved the junior partner position at an early age and been entrusted with some of the company’s largest accounts, a fact that he’d been very proud of.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ she said, making her tone as grave as his, ‘and obviously I can’t comment; he never really discussed his work with me. It is purely papers relating to our own private financial affairs that I want; I’m afraid he left his affairs in somewhat of a mess, but then I suppose he wasn’t expecting to die so young.’
Matthews’ eyes widened. ‘I don’t mean to pry, my dear, but are you facing financial problems?’
Marianne felt herself flush. ‘Money is tighter than I expected but I’m assuming that Dominic has a bank account or two that I don’t know about. I’m embarrassed at how little I actually know about our financial affairs,’ she confessed, smiling.
Matthews didn’t return the smile, instead he simply stared at her from under his heavy grey brows. ‘I’m afraid, my dear, these discrepancies are quite serious. It seems that Dominic was stealing from the company.’
‘No.’ Marianne’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘Sorry to put it so bluntly.’ He gave a small, resigned shrug. ‘If we could have his laptop—’
‘What?’ she said immediately. ‘Why?’
‘There may be invaluable information on it that would help with our investigation.’
‘Are you quite sure there isn’t some mistake?’
‘I’m afraid not. I can see this has come as quite a shock; it was to me too. I must say I never expected to be having this conversation; I had high hopes for Dominic. I find it hard to understand what made him jeopardize his future.’
Marianne remained silent for a moment as she considered his words. ‘Perhaps I can explain it,’ she said finally. ‘Dominic loved his job and he worked very hard; becoming a junior partner was
his dream.’
‘He was a hard worker,’ Matthews acknowledged.
‘After his promotion he became very anxious,’ she continued. ‘It was important to him that he prove himself and live up to the faith you’d shown in him. When he came home he would stay up until the small hours, working. As a result, by the time he came to bed he couldn’t switch off, couldn’t sleep. I finally persuaded him to go to the GP who prescribed sleeping tablets, but after a while they didn’t work either and he started taking two at a time. When he went back for a new prescription the doctor refused to give it to him; she was worried Dominic was getting too reliant, which of course he was. Instead she suggested exercise and relaxation techniques and told Dominic to cut down on alcohol and caffeine.’ Marianne smiled sadly. ‘There was no chance of that happening. Dominic drank coffee all day long and without the sleeping tablets, he drank more alcohol than ever, hoping it would help him sleep.’
Matthews looked perplexed. ‘He always appeared fine at work. How on earth was he able to function normally?’
‘He couldn’t,’ Marianne said, remembering those dark days and how frustrated and helpless she’d felt as her husband fell apart before her eyes. ‘When he couldn’t get the tablets from the GP, he started to buy them online.’
Matthews was shocked. ‘That seems a very risky thing to do – and a very desperate one.’
In retrospect Marianne had to agree but it had made some sense at the time. ‘He was just buying the pills the doctor had prescribed for him; it seemed preferable to him drinking. Dominic wasn’t a pleasant drunk; he could become quite aggressive,’ she explained, thinking that when she’d walked in here today she hadn’t expected to be telling Dominic’s boss any of this. ‘All in all, buying sleeping tablets online seemed the lesser of two evils.’
‘I can understand that,’ Matthews nodded, his eyes sad.
‘It was fine for a while but as time went on the tablets grew less effective and Dominic increased the dose. I begged him not to, I was terrified of the harm he might do himself. In the morning he was bleary-eyed getting into the car and there were days when it was almost impossible to wake him. The only way I finally got through to him was when I pointed out that if I was noticing what a mess he was in the mornings, that you must be too and that he might be jeopardizing his career. Well, that shocked him and had almost an immediate effect; he just seemed to snap out of it. I suppose I should have been suspicious but I was so relieved that he was behaving normally.’ She paused, wondering if she had really believed everything was okay or had she just wanted it so much that she had closed her eyes to the truth. ‘But the transformation was due to yet more drugs that he’d started taking in the morning to get him up and going. It’s not surprising I didn’t notice; he was hardly ever at home. He left for work before we were up and was rarely home before eight, and then with so many business dinners . . .’ She stopped at the puzzled look on Matthews’ face. ‘What?’
‘Well, my dear, Dominic was a hard worker but he usually left the office by five thirty, six at the latest. As for dinners, given these difficult times we cut the expense accounts of all management eighteen months ago; entertaining clients was vetoed.’
‘So, where was he?’ Marianne wondered aloud.
‘I’m afraid I have no idea.’
It took a moment for Marianne to twig why he was looking uncomfortable. ‘You think he was with a woman?’ She smiled at the ludicrous idea. Between his erratic moods and heavy workload, Dominic wouldn’t have had the time or patience for another woman. But he wasn’t working long hours, she reminded herself, and perhaps another woman might account for his ambivalence towards her. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind; she would reflect on it later. ‘How much did he take from the company?’ she asked, thinking of the dwindling current account and their modest deposit account; nothing made sense.
Matthews shook his head. ‘It’s too early to say for sure, but we are talking six figures.’
She stared at him, stunned. ‘I don’t know what to say. I had no idea what he was up to, I assure you; he certainly didn’t lodge the money in our accounts,’ she paused and looked at him, ‘if you want to check—’
Matthews held up a hand, looking embarrassed. ‘Your openness and honesty makes it even more difficult for me to tell you, Marianne, but I’m afraid there is no possibility of us honouring your pension at this moment in time. Happily, I’m sure that his life assurance will be substantial—’
‘They are contesting our claim,’ she said. ‘Traces of drugs showed up in the post-mortem results.’
Matthews looked at her, his eyes full of pity. ‘My dear girl, I am so sorry. It seems wrong that you and your family should suffer like this. Let me talk to the other partners about this and see if there is anything we can do.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’
‘I’ll have a courier pick up the laptop this afternoon if that’s okay.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you. Oh, forgive me for asking but would you mind if we borrowed his phone too?’
‘I don’t have it; the police suspect it may have been stolen in the restaurant.’
‘How despicable,’ Matthews said, glancing surreptitiously at his watch.
‘I must go.’ Marianne stood up. Her legs felt shaky and she steadied herself on the arm of the chair.
‘Are you okay to drive?’ he asked, looking at her in concern. ‘I could get someone to drop you and you could collect your car tomorrow.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I doubt that.’ He shook her hand and sighed. ‘I am sorry to have been the bearer of such shocking news.’
‘Will you let me know if there are any developments?’
‘Of course.’
Marianne drove around the corner and parked before she broke down. As the tears ran down her cheeks, she clenched the steering wheel for support, her whole body trembling; she had never felt as frightened in her life. How was she to manage with no income, no savings and two children and Dot to support? Her breaths came in short, fast gasps and she realized she was having a panic attack. She concentrated on her breathing, willing herself to calm down; she couldn’t go home in this state. What the hell was she going to tell Dot? Realizing that she couldn’t face her mother-in-law yet, she turned on the ignition, turned the car around and set out for Johnny Sheridan’s builders’ yard.
She sighed in relief when she saw his distinctive maroon Mercedes and parked rather haphazardly behind it. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and picked her way through the dirt towards the Portakabin that served as Johnny’s office.
‘Yeah?’
She opened the door and stood uncertainly in the doorway as he continued to type, his head bent over his keyboard. ‘Bad time?’
‘Marianne.’ He immediately pushed away from his desk and came around to greet her, his smile faltering when he saw her expression. ‘You look done in, sweetheart; is everything okay?’
She gave him a watery smile. ‘Not really.’
‘Come and sit down.’ He gestured to a chair and pulled his own around the desk so he could sit beside her. ‘I’d offer you a cuppa but there’s no milk.’
‘I could do with something a lot stronger.’
‘Come on then, spit it out, what’s up?’
She dropped her bag on the dusty floor and flopped back in the chair; feeling tired and beaten. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Try the beginning.’
She looked into his kind face and took a deep breath. ‘Dominic was stealing from Matthews and Baldwin, Johnny.’
‘Are you serious?’ He stared at her in astonishment.
‘Yes. After he died they were going through his client accounts and apparently there are “discrepancies”.’
‘What sort of discrepancies?’
‘Adrian Matthews couldn’t or wouldn’t say; the investigation is ongoing apparently.’
Johnny digested the news. ‘How much are we talking about?
’
‘They don’t know exactly yet but they think it runs to six figures.’
‘Shit, you’re kidding me!’
She shook her head. ‘I thought Dominic must have done it to pay for the drugs but he couldn’t possibly have spent that sort of money, could he?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘There’s more. All his business dinners, the working late, it was all lies.’
‘But why? And if he wasn’t at work, where was he?’
Marianne shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘You think he was having an affair? No, Marianne, for all his faults, he loved you; get that silly notion out of your head.’
Marianne took a tissue from her sleeve and blew her nose. ‘Do you honestly think I care, Johnny?’
He looked uncomfortable. No, I suppose not.’
‘If he wasn’t meeting a woman then where was he?’
‘He could have belonged to one of these private gambling clubs. That would account for the stealing and his absences, and when he started losing money he dipped into the company coffers.’
Marianne wasn’t convinced. ‘He never showed an interest in gambling before; I don’t think he ever even backed a horse in the Grand National.’
‘I doubt interest would have anything to do with it; remember he had an addictive personality.’
‘I suppose,’ she agreed.
‘So, how was Matthews with you?’
‘Initially he was quite frosty but he thawed. It helped that I agreed to hand over Dominic’s laptop.’
‘You did?’ Johnny frowned.
‘It would have looked very suspicious if I hadn’t.’
‘I suppose. You know, Marianne, I think you should take legal advice. We have to make sure that the company can’t seize your assets to pay his debts.’
‘Ha, what is there to seize?’
‘Your house, love,’ he said softly.
‘No, they wouldn’t take my house!’ She looked at him in alarm. ‘They couldn’t . . . could they?’
Every Time We Say Goodbye Page 6
