‘Oh, in case I forget to say before you go,’ Karla shouted from the kitchen, as Jason headed back to the bedroom, ‘I love you, Jason Connolly.’
‘Me too,’ Jason shouted back. He couldn’t help wondering, though: would her love have wavered if he hadn’t been prepared to go through with this, which was undoubtedly going to be as humiliating as Fenton could make it?
Twenty minutes later, Jason cursed silently as he tried to get his collar to sit right. He loosened his tie and was halfway through re-knotting it when he stopped, surveying himself in despair in the mirror.I can’t believe I’m doing this. He was dressing as if he were going to an interview, about to be scrutinised for his first job. Obviously, he would be scrutinised by Fenton – when had he ever not been? – but more for his unsuitability than his ability. In Robert Fenton’s eyes, he was sadly lacking. Pulling the tie loose again, he yanked it off and tossed it on the chair. Should he even wear a suit? He would wear one if he were about to see his bank manager, but Fenton was his father-in-law. He shouldn’t have to dress up as if he were meeting royalty.
‘Bye,’ Karla called from downstairs, as he started unbuttoning his shirt. He never wore a suit in the office unless he had clients coming in, and he was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was. ‘Don’t forget to ring me. Good luck!’
‘Good luck, Daddy! Give my love to Grandad,’ Holly shouted.
And Jason’s gut constricted. ‘Will do.’ He forced the words out and tried very hard to oust the image that immediately sprang to mind: his baby girl’s image on the monitor, her heart beating sure and strong. A heart Fenton had never wanted to beat, a child he’d never wanted to come into being. He would have expunged her life. He would have had Karla abort her. And now he was supposed to pass on that child’s love to the man?
Jesus Christ. He couldn’t do this. He would never be able to live with it, would never get his head around it. How the hell did Fenton live with himself?
Hearing the front door close, Jason dragged in a ragged breath and held it. So, what could he do? Exhaling slowly, he studied himself hard in the mirror. Bail out now? Or save his marriage and give that child, both of his children, a chance of a decent future?
It wasn’t really open for debate any more, he realised. He cared about Karla and his kids, while Fenton never had and never would.
Determined to go through with it, whatever it cost him personally, Jason rebuttoned his shirt – and reached for his tie.
Twelve
KARLA
Skidding into my office terribly late, I make it my first priority to send Jason a quick good luckmessage, praying that the meeting with my father goes well for him, and then settle down to do some actual work. My presence has obviously been missed. Noting the mountain of post that should have been sorted departmentally and distributed by one of the admin assistants, I make a start on it, and then glance up as there’s a tap on the adjoining door.
‘Morning, Karla,’ says John, the chief executive, coming through from his office.
‘Morning.’ I smile brightly. That’s who I am when I come here: bright and bubbly me. It’s not an act, though I’ve had to force it a bit lately. I’m much happier with this side of me, which has been eclipsed recently by the problems at home. Problems I hope we can put behind us now that Jason has finally agreed to accept my father’s help. I know how humiliating it is for him, that it goes against all of his principles, and it makes me love him all the more. He’s doing it for me, for his children. Because his business is failing, he sees himself as a failure, but I am so proud of him. I always have been. He’s tried so hard to turn his company’s finances around, while always trying to be the best father a man can be to his children. Children we might never have had if Jason had allowed my father to bully him when we’d first met. To bully me. My stomach clenches involuntarily, as it always does when I recall my father’s absolute adamance that I was about to ruin my life, his expression: a combination of ill-concealed fury and disappointment when he’d learned I was pregnant. What terrifies me is that, had he succeeded in driving Jason away, I might not have stood up to him. Thank God, Jason was there for me, equally adamant that there was nothing my father could do to make him stop loving me. I don’t tell him often enough how much I love him. I make a mental note to address that, starting tonight.
‘All sorted?’ John asks me.
‘Sorry?’ My mind has shifted gear. After the mad rush this morning, I’m now worrying about whether I remembered to put yoghurts in the kids’ lunchboxes.
John indicates his cheek. ‘The toothache.’
‘Oh.’ I quickly tone down the smile. ‘Yes, thanks. Sorry about having to dash to the dentist. I would have booked it for later in the week, but I didn’t get a wink’s sleep all night.’ That’s actually not far from the truth. Instead of worrying about our finances or dreaming about Sarah, her voice popping into my head, forcing me awake, I was concerned about Jason. I do believe that he simply forgot to delete the photograph on his phone and that he has no inclination to ogle other women, but after what happened in bed last night – or rather, what didn’t happen – I couldn’t help worrying that he didn’t fancy me any more. But then, he’d been so gutted, with such a tortured, remorseful look in his eyes – because he was assuming I would think the worst, I suspect – which only goes to show how much he does care. My concern now is more for him than myself. I can’t bear the thought of him feeling more humiliated than he must already.
‘No problem. You needn’t have rushed in, apart from the fact that the place might grind to a halt without you, that is,’ John says, bringing my mind back to work, rather than where it is at present: wondering what might have happened this morning. He’d kissed me so tenderly, said such sweet things to me…
Dismissing my thoughts, which are not entirely appropriate for the office, I smile up at John. ‘I’m fine,’ I assure him. ‘Still a little bit sore, but it’s nothing a painkiller won’t fix.’
‘Well, slip off early if you do find you’re suffering. You have plenty of overtime owed to you, and I’m sure we can keep the ship afloat for a few hours.’ John gives me a friendly wink.
‘I will.’ I nod and quietly pray that, with my father’s help, Jason can keep the ship afloat. He will. My father is a wily businessman, but when he’s made up his mind to invest in something, he will plough as much cash into it as is needed. I’m half hoping he and Jason might get on a little better if they have a business interest in common. It’s a bit of a forlorn hope. My father seems to go all out to antagonise Jason sometimes.
‘Sorry about those.’ John indicates the several files on my desk, atop which are audio tapes, which will need distributing for typing up. ‘The development department has hit some problems with the snagging report on the new-build site, and the community services department rota’s gone to pot again. People off sick with the bug that’s going about, I’m afraid.’
‘I’ll get it sorted,’ I assure him. I’m not quite sure how, conjuring trained staff out of the ether not being one of my skills. I usually manage it though, with a bit of rejiggling and sweet-talking.
‘Thanks, Karla. I really don’t know what this place would do without you.’ John smiles, relieved. ‘I’ll get us a coffee, and then I’ll get on with that report for the board meeting tonight. We’re discussing funding. It’s going to be a long one.’
‘Black, no sugar,’ I call after him, as he heads out. ‘I’m on a diet.’Again. I sigh inwardly and then renew my resolve. No more half-hearted attempts, I tell myself firmly. I am reassured, after the compliments he paid me, that Jason does still find me attractive, but I really can’t use the fact that I’ve given birth twice as an excuse for carrying extra pounds any more.
‘You don’t need to diet,’ John shouts back, which does my ego no harm.
Smiling, I go back to my pile of post. John is all right. I would much rather be doing what I’d had my heart set on what seems like a lifetime ago now – learning my lines for some magical stage play – but if I have to work in an office, there are much worse places.
Twenty minutes later, the post sorted and delivered to the various departments, I collect the files and tapes and head to the admin assistants’ office, knocking before going in, which I’ve learned earns the women’s respect.
