“I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s too good an opportunity to turn down. It’s not as if we’re going away forever!”
“I just don’t understand why you’d want to go back at all. We brought you here for a better life, and now, you plan on taking our grandchildren away. Who knows how long you’ll stay for? If you settle down, we may never see you again!”
“That’s preposterous, Dad. It’s a couple of hours max on a plane. You could even come for a visit.”
“If I’d wanted to go back there for a visit, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”
Shaun shook his head impatiently. “Whatever. We’ll be back before Chloe starts school, anyway. We want her to have an English education.”
“I’ll bet that wasn’t you who said that!” their dad spat.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Shaun said defensively.
“Well, seeing as you ask—we all know Miranda thinks we’re beneath her. I’m surprised she’s agreed to go at all, because one thing I can say about Ireland is it’s full of us Irish!”
Hannah sat dumbstruck. She’d never witnessed such a heated discussion between her family members before.
“Miranda doesn’t have a problem with you being Irish.” Shaun got to his feet, and roughly shoved the chair back underneath the table. “She has a problem with the way you treat her. It’s clear as day you blame her for me moving to the city.” With that, he stormed from the room.
Chapter 3
Max Myers made a habit of keeping his ear to the ground when it came to company gossip, news, and announcements—preferring to promote from within whenever possible. During last month’s performance meeting, he’d noticed a spike in the revenue analysis report, and asked the department heads for more information.
That’s when he learned about the new contract in Market Drayton, and the role Hannah McLaughlin, a loyal, hardworking employee, had played in securing it.
Max was in no doubt anyone with that sort of initiative, confidence, and foresight deserved a more senior position. After all, she’d scouted out the deal and clinched it, without any help from anyone, and all in her own time. She made the deal purely for the future of the business, with no apparent personal gain.
The very next day, he asked Angela, his PA, to contact Hannah personally, and arrange for her to come for a meeting. He would listen to what she wanted, and ensure her dreams came into fruition. There was no way he wanted to lose this girl.
***
Hannah felt like a terrified kitten as she walked into the foyer of AdCor’s head office. Although she’d worked for the company for eight years, this was the first time she’d been summoned, and, even though she knew she wasn’t in any trouble, she couldn’t calm her jitters.
Angela Beanie, an attractive—if a little bony, thirty-something woman, welcomed her warmly. She wore a black suit, regardless of the ninety-degree heat outside, and a lacy white blouse. Angela explained that, although Maxwell Myers had called the meeting, he had been held up, and would join them as soon as he could.
Hannah relaxed a little. She’d heard all about Max Myers over the years. Nothing bad. In fact, old Mr Turnbull wouldn’t have a bad word said about him. But, she knew there had been a lot of speculation regarding his love life. He’d never been married, which was strange in itself for a man in his thirties, but considering his wealth, he was sure to have women throwing themselves at him. She’d seen his photograph, and he was incredibly handsome and, no doubt, an awful bighead. Stephanie Dwight, a journalist for the Daily Post, was certain he was gay, but Hannah assumed he’d probably rebuffed her advances when they’d met one time at a conference.
Angela Beanie led her into a lift, and swiped her card before pressing the button to the top floor.
Hannah’s mind was racing. She felt like a child on her first trip to Disney World—in awe of everything. Even the lifts were something special. All glass!
“This is the executive floor,” Angela said. “We’ll go into my office for a chat, while we wait for Mr Myers.”
They passed a small reception desk, and the beautiful, exotic-looking receptionist smiled and nodded at Hannah.
Angela led her along a bright hallway filled with artwork and foliage, to a large glass-fronted office and the most breath-taking view of the city.
“Can I get you a hot drink?” Angela asked.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
They settled in the ergonomically designed office chairs in a room with an ornate oak desk. Once again, Hannah marvelled at the stunning views of Manchester from another plate-glass window.
“I’ll cut to the chase. I’m sure you’re itching to know why you’ve been asked here?”
Hannah bobbed her head, nervously.
“Mr Myers heard about the deal you secured. I must say, Hannah—can I call you Hannah?”
“Of course.” She nodded again.
“I must say, that deal was terribly impressive, especially when we discovered you were solely responsible.”
Hannah gulped, her mouth suddenly parched.
“At AdCor, we believe in rewarding loyalty, initiative, and hard work. Mr Myers is interested in your aspirations. Have you thought about your future?”
“Kind of. I’d certainly like to work my way into a higher position, but the Daily Post doesn’t have any vacancies—hasn’t for ages.”
Angela glanced inside a file on her desk. “Neil Turnbull isn’t far off retirement, surely?”
“Oh, I wasn’t meaning…” She shook her head. “…Mr Turnbull has been there forever. He has the place running like a well-oiled machine, and has years in him yet.”
“If that’s the case, where do you see yourself in five years’ time?”
Hannah looked down at her fingers. “I don’t really know.”
“How about coming to work for us here, in the marketing department? I’m sure we can shuffle things around.”
Hannah gasped. “Really?”
Angela smiled, nodding.
The desk phone rang.
“Excuse me a minute.” She reached to answer it. “Yes, Max?... That’s okay… yes, I’ve told her about the proposal, and she seems thrilled… No problem, I’ll let her know. Safe trip.” She hung up, and gave Hannah an apologetic smile. “Mr Myers has been called away. He won’t be able to make it, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
Angela got to her feet. “I could get somebody to show you around the marketing floor, if you like? But, I’ve got another meeting booked.”
“There’s no need. I just need to know when you’d want me to start?”
“I’ll get HR onto it right away. With it being a transfer, it will be a lot easier, and you shouldn’t need to give a lot of notice where you are. But, it will all be negotiable—let them do their bit first, and somebody will be in touch early next week.”
Angela walked her to the small desk beside the lift, and asked the receptionist to arrange for somebody to escort Hannah downstairs. Then, with a smile, she was gone.
***
Since being medically discharged from the British Army seventeen years ago, diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, Donald Henry had worked as a security officer. That was the official reason, anyway. In reality, the specialists had found him to be totally sadistic and on the edge of murderous tendencies, but to be dishonourably discharged and imprisoned would make it into the European newspapers—something the Army couldn’t afford to have happen.
Don hadn’t agreed with their findings, however. He’d made it this far without attacking or murdering anybody. He’d just enjoyed being a soldier a bit too much.
During his fifteen-year stint, he’d discovered there were two types of ex-combatants. Those who did what they were asked for the period they were contracted, out of a sense of duty, and those full of anger and hate. The first type was able to leave the army and slot right back into society, whereas the second type never liked being a soldier in the first place, but en
joyed the killing parts. He was the latter.
Don was ready to leave for home, when the call came in to escort somebody from the nineteenth floor. As the night-shift supervisor, he would normally have left long before now, but one of the day guards had been late when his car wouldn’t start, and had only just arrived.
“I’ll do it, and then I’m off,” Don said, tight-lipped, as his colleague shrugged out of his leather jacket and into his uniform.
He swiped his security pass, and rode up to the top floor. As he stepped out of the lift, his heart skipped a beat. Before him stood the loveliest vision he’d seen in years.
Her red curls cascaded down her back and framed the milky white skin of her face, and he knew, before he got close enough to see for himself, she had incredible green eyes. He wasn’t disappointed.
Don escorted the woman into the lift, and forced his voice to be calm as he attempted small talk.
She seemed in awe of the new sights and sounds.
“Your first time here?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?” She smiled shyly.
“A little.” He chuckled.
“This place is amazing.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is. You get used to it when you see it every day.”
“I won’t. I can’t wait.”
“So, are you joining us, then?”
She grinned. “I think so. I’m still pinching myself, if I’m honest.”
“Congratulations. When do you start?”
“Thanks. I’m not sure. You’re the first person I’ve told. I still need to break the news to my family.”
The doors opened up into the foyer.
“Here we are. Good luck, miss…”
He held out his hand, and she shook it with gusto.
“McLaughlin, but call me Hannah.”
Don walked her to the main doors, and, after hanging back slightly, followed her to the train station.
Something about the young woman had awoken a need in him. She was so like Clair Dietrich, his last girlfriend. She even smelled the same. Once he’d watched her train leave the station, he headed back to AdCor with a newfound spring in his step. He looked forward to Hannah McLaughlin joining them.
***
The following Tuesday, Hannah received an email from Human Resources with an offer to join Corporate Services. She was blown away, and sat with her mouth agape while she read the offer over and over again.
After her initial meeting with Angela Beanie, Hannah had made her mind up not to accept the position. Her parents would hit the roof if she were to tell them she was moving away so soon after Shaun. But, reading the offer now, she felt torn in two.
She’d dreamt of this moment—in fact, the package they were offering her was phenomenal, and exceeded any of her wildest dreams.
After the hundredth read through, she contemplated calling her parents, but how could she? Her mother hadn’t even stopped crying over Shaun yet. Her fucking brother had given her this opportunity with one hand, and viciously snatched it away with the other.
She pinched the top of her nose between her eyes, and knew she had a doozy of a headache coming on.
She closed her laptop and headed to Mr Turnbull’s office.
“Knock, knock,” she said, peering in through the open door.
Her aging boss eased himself to his feet and shuffled toward her. “Ah, I was just about to come and find you. I can’t say I’m surprised, especially after the deal you pulled off. But, you’ll be missed, Hannah.”
“Sorry?” She shook her head, trying to process what the heck he was talking about.
“I just received the email informing me of your promotion. They’ve offered me a number of potential candidates to fill your position, but it won’t be that easy to replace you.”
“Replace me?” she asked, still confused.
“When you move to the city! You have checked your emails, haven’t you? Tell me I haven’t put my big foot in it.”
“I need to go home, Mr Turnbull. I have a terrible migraine coming on.”
*
“Hannah? Is that you, sweetheart?” her mother called from the conservatory.
The glass room ran along the back of the house. Agnes grew a lot of her vegetables in there, using it more like a greenhouse.
“Yes, Mammy. I’m not feeling too well. I’ll go and have a lie down.”
Agnes charged through the door, her eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not like you, sweetheart. Do you have a temperature?” She pressed the flat of her palm against her daughter’s forehead.
“I’m fine, Mammy. Don’t fuss.”
“You’re not fine. You’re as white as a sheet. Go on up. I’ll bring you a glass of water and a nip of my homemade tonic—that’ll see any nasties off before they get a strong hold.”
Hannah nodded, and headed for the stairs, knowing there was no point arguing.
Feeling totally drained, she climbed onto the bed, fully clothed, and closed her heavy eyes. Uncertain what was wrong with her, she presumed it must be stress related, as she’d felt perfectly fine before reading the email.
Her mother, suddenly standing over her, shook her by the shoulder. “Take this, sweetheart. You’ll feel right as rain in a jiffy.”
Hannah opened her mouth, allowing her mother to ply her with one of her many herbal potions—they often joked she would have been hung as a witch, if she’d lived a few hundred years ago.
*
It felt late when she woke. The house was in silence, and, although still light outside, the sun had shifted away from her window.
She reached for her phone—7.55pm. She’d been out for the count for hours.
Padding downstairs on bare feet, she found her parents snuggled on the sofa. Her mother was engrossed in a book and her father was watching the history channel on the TV.
“Oh, there you are, sweetheart. I was beginning to fret,” her mother said, discarding the book, and jumping to her feet. “Can I get you something to eat? I made a plate up for you.”
“I’ll do it, Mammy. You stay there.”
Her father paused the TV program, and watched the exchange in silence.
“Nonsense. It won’t take a minute. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I think. I’m shocked I slept so long though.”
“You clearly needed it,” her father said. “You’ve been pushing yourself for weeks.”
Her mother got to her feet, and steered Hannah to the lounge chair. “I told you, didn’t I, sweetheart? You’ve had a mini crash.” She nodded, before rushing out to the kitchen.
“Everything should settle down now,” Hannah called after her. She sat down, and curled her feet underneath her.
“Why? Have you heard from head office?” her father asked.
Hannah hesitated, contemplating a lie, then nodded. “They offered me a huge promotion. But, I’m going to turn it down.”
“Whatever for?” He gaped.
“I would need to move to Manchester. That’s why.”
Her father closed his mouth, and turned to stare at the still screen showing the back of someone’s head. He sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I understand you love living at home—we love having you. But, this is a terrific opportunity. You at least need to consider it.”
“Consider what?” her mother said, breezing in with a plateful of stewed steak, mashed potatoes, and cabbage.
Her father cocked a thumb towards Hannah. “She’s been offered a promotion, but it would mean moving away. She’s not taking it.”
“Don’t force her. If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to.”
“Of course I won’t force her. But, I’m just questioning why she won’t accept it.” Her father peered at her face intently.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hannah dropped her head, and began stuffing her face full of food.
“I asked you a question. Why do you intend to decline the promotion?”
Hannah shrugged.
/> Her mother returned to her seat, and also stared at her daughter.
Finishing her mouthful, Hannah sighed. “You need me here. It’s fine—I’m fine with it.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, young lady. We’re not going to be responsible for holding you back,” her mother said.
Shocked, Hannah looked from her to her father.
He nodded.
“But, you’ve been so upset about our Shaun moving away. I didn’t want to add to that.”
“Of course I’m upset. What kind of mother would I be, if I wasn’t?”
Hannah shook her head.
“But, that doesn’t mean I’d allow you to throw an opportunity like this away. I’m hoping you won’t be leaving the country, like Shaun, however.”
Hannah laughed. “Just Manchester, I swear.”
“That settles it. You’re taking the job—deal?”
Hannah scrambled to her feet. “Oh, come here. I’m going to miss you guys so much.”
*
Later that night, as Hannah lay in bed, she had to pinch herself several times. She’d needed no further persuading from her parents, and, after the initial excitement, the nerves had set in.
She opened her laptop and re-read the finer details of the contract.
As it was basically a transfer, she had no reason to work her notice. But, there was so much to organise.
Firstly, she needed to find somewhere to live.
Chapter 4
The following week passed by in a flash. And on Friday afternoon, Hannah handed her portfolio over for the rest of the team to share out amongst each other—she felt that was the fair thing to do.
The Watcher : A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller Page 2
