‘How about you take Hamie and I run Maxine back home?’ Lucy suggested. Seconds later she was inside the house and had come out with the car keys.
Jack moved close to Maxine and took the baby from her. He sat Hamish on his hip as he stepped inside the door and fumbled through his wallet for a couple of notes.
‘Ten pounds, Maxine, is that right?’ Jack asked, holding out two fivers.
‘Actually, Mr Dawson, we’re ten minutes into a new hour. We did agree ...’
‘Yes, of course, Maxine, no problem,’ he replied, changing one of the notes for a tenner.
‘Watch the clutch, Lucy,’ he called over as his wife got into the car. ‘It’s slipping a bit at the moment, we’ll need to get it looked at – as soon as we can afford it.’
‘You creaky old bastard, you’re getting past it, you know.’
Jack wouldn’t really describe Clive as a friend. He was more of a necessity. He’d bailed Jack out of a deep hole and got him the contract. He owed him, but that didn’t mean he had to like him.
The whistle sounded on the platform and the train began to move. He daren’t tell Lucy that they were travelling First Class to Aberdeen. The first time he’d met Clive on the platform to travel up there, he’d assumed that Jack would be sitting in First, like him. Jack had kept his cool, pretended to go off to the buffet, and sorted out an upgrade with the conductor before he reached them with his ticket checking. After that, Jack booked tickets online, trying to get them in advance to make them as cheap as he could. Clive was not the type of person he wanted to admit his money problems to.
‘How’s Sophie?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Oh, you know, can’t get enough of me, wants to jump my bones all the time. I have to travel to Aberdeen to get a break from her. A man can only take so much!’
Jack didn’t like the way Clive talked about Sophie. He’d only met her once in passing. It was when the company was flourishing and Clive was a much-valued contractor. She seemed nice, not the sort of woman you’d put with Clive. He was all testosterone and bravado.
‘Are you doing the run then? With Lucy? Or are you too chicken?’
Everything was competitive with Clive: work, running, sex with your wife. He could never let anything go. And it irked Jack all the more because he was succeeding at none of them.
‘Yes, I think we will actually. Lucy’s been doing well with picking it up again. I don’t envy her, she’s been out of it for quite some time. I think it’s done her good though—’
He stopped short. There was no way he was talking to Clive about his marital issues. It would be all over the office.
‘Sophie loves kids, she would come over and look after your little lad for the weekend. In fact, we could both come over, give you a weekend off. It might stop her trying to get me to fuck her so much. She’s desperate for a baby, you know. I can’t stand them – no offence.’
‘None taken,’ Jack replied, though he suspected it wouldn’t have made much difference if he had been put out by the comment.
‘How tough is the terrain? It’s Scottish lowlands, isn’t it – not one of those river and hills runs? Lucy won’t want anything too serious, it must be well over a year since we did anything competitive.’
‘Yeah, yeah, it’s all fine. Lovely countryside and all that. And I’d love to meet Lucy, see how hot she is in her Lycra. My missus only goes to the gym when I’m away so I never get to see her in her gym gear. No offence like. About Lucy.’
Jack wanted to punch the idiot, but he gave a non-committal smile. He needed Clive. As Jack’s company had been going to the dogs, Clive had moved on to bigger and better things. He was now working for the Pharmexus Corporation, a giant pharmaceuticals company with its UK base in Aberdeen of all places. Cold and isolated, the perfect place to work. And a bugger of a journey by train too.
Jack didn’t know much about the pharmaceuticals industry other than that Clive was in a much more lucrative part of the business than he was. Jack was on the tech side, running software simulations for some project or another. He was comfortable with the code and programming, he didn’t pretend to understand the other stuff. He’d worked out that a lot of people in suits were getting excited. It was something to do with Alzheimer’s disease research and it seemed to be going very well. All Jack knew for sure was that once he’d delivered the modelling infrastructure for them, he’d be out on his arse again.
It was Clive who’d got him into the GPS tracking. He liked it, he admired the engineering and technical achievement. He could go out on a run, wear his tracker, and all the time his route, his speed, his heartbeat – everything was there on social media for his running buddies to view. Clive even knew he’d stopped off for a piss in the hedge once. He could tell by the heart rate and duration of the change.
‘Stopped for a pee last night?’ he’d laughed. ‘I could tell. Your heart rate dipped for about a minute. You were away so fast you can barely have had time to shake!’
There was always a wisecrack with Clive. And it was usually at somebody else’s expense. Jack tried to keep the conversation on neutral ground. Aberdeen seemed an awfully long way away.
‘Why don’t you and Sophie come around for dinner one night in the next fortnight? It would be good to get to know Sophie better and if you’re serious about looking after Hamish it would be good for you to meet him before you sign on the dotted line. I’ll speak to Lucy when we get to the hotel this evening. What do you think?’
‘I like it, mate, but don’t blame me if that wife of yours decides to leave you after she gets her eyes on Clivey. I may be forty now, but I’m still ripped and I’ve got buns of steel.’
Clive started to scroll through his Facebook feed.
‘That bastard Simon beat my thirteen mile record. By seven minutes too. Shit, I can’t let that one stand. He’s far too fit for my liking. And he’s fifty-six. Imagine being like that at his age. Bastard!’
Jack had had enough of Clive’s nonsense. They still had a couple of hours to go until they reached their destination, so Jack decided to call Lucy about the meal. And the run. He knew she’d say yes. Anything to get away from Hamish. What could he do? She’d had post-natal depression. Her mum was dead and his parents were too old to help. They just had to get on with it.
He was as certain as he could be that she was okay now. He’d had a quiet word with the health visitor, checking that Hamish was safe to be left with her. It wasn’t like that, or at least he didn’t think so. She’d been so down after he was born. They’d never really bonded. Hamish seemed to sense how uneasy his mum was around him. And poor Lucy, she associated the baby with a really shit time in her life. It didn’t help that he was out hunting for work when it happened too.
‘Luce? Hey, it’s Jack. Yes, everything’s fine. I wanted to run something by you before the phone signal dies. You know that run we talked about? Yes, the one at Loch Lomond. Are you up for it still?’
For a moment, Jack thought it was going to be a no. He heard Hamish crying in the background. Lucy sighed then gave her answer.
‘What about a babysitter? Who’ll look after the baby? Hamish. Who’ll look after Hamish?’
‘Luce—’ Jack said.
‘I’m trying, Jack, honestly I am. We’re getting there. I’m trying.’
‘Clive says he and Sophie will stay and look after Hamie. I invited them over for dinner to meet you both. Are you up for it? We’d get some time away on our own. It would be good for us.’
Hamish was getting increasingly unhappy, his whimpering was about to turn into a full-blown cry. Lucy sighed again.
‘Okay, let’s do it,’ she said. ‘You’re right, it will be good to do this together. We can drive up the night before then drive back afterwards. Will Clive and Sophie stay over?’
‘Yes, he seems pretty keen for me to do the run,’ Jack said, trying to conceal his joy at her decision. ‘I think he’d do an overnighter. Sophie loves babies, apparently. Clive, not so much.’<
br />
‘Okay, let’s do it! I’ll book online after I put Hamish to bed. You mean the half-marathon though, right? I’m not ready for more than that at the moment.’
‘Yes, great, the thirteen-miler. It’ll be fun. Like old times.’
Jack finished the call and returned to his seat opposite Clive.
‘We’re on!’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s a goer. And you and Sophie can come around for dinner too. This Saturday okay?’
Clive nodded. They’d all get to know each other and in three weeks’ time, he and Lucy would run the Loch Lomond half-marathon. It would give her something to aim for and give her a break from Hamish. He didn’t know then that he’d just committed them both to the worst night of their lives.
Carry on reading Dead of Night here
Also by Paul J. Teague
Don’t Tell Meg Trilogy
Book 1 - Don’t Tell Meg
Book 2 - The Murder Place
Book 3 - The Forgotten Children
Standalone Thrillers
Dead of Night
Burden of Guilt
One Fatal Error
Who To Trust
Writing Science Fiction as Paul Teague
Sci-Fi Starter Book - Phase 6
The Secret Bunker Trilogy
Book 1 - Darkness Falls
Books 2 - The Four Quadrants
Books 3 - Regeneration
The Grid Trilogy
Book 1 - Fall of Justice
Book 2 - Quest for Vengeance
Book 3 - Catharsis
About the Author
Hi, I'm Paul Teague, the author of the Don't Tell Meg trilogy as well as several other standalone psychological thrillers such as Burden of Guilt, Dead of Night and One Fatal Error.
I'm a former broadcaster and journalist with the BBC, but I have also worked as a primary school teacher, a disc jockey, a shopkeeper, a waiter and a sales rep.
I've read thrillers all my life, starting with Enid Blyton's Famous Five series, then graduating to James Hadley Chase, Harlan Coben, Linwood Barclay and Mark Edwards.
If you love those authors then you’ll like my thrillers too.
Let’s get connected!
https://paulteague.co.uk
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.
Copyright © 2017 Paul Teague writing as Paul J. Teague
All rights reserved
Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set Page 75
