‘The usual. Firefighting, thanks to incompetent staff.’ Robert sighed, tipping his glass back again. ‘Dealing with morons.’
Diana watched him loosen his tie, looking suitably harassed and work-worn – for her benefit, she’d no doubt. He never failed to remind her that he worked his fingers to the bone day after day to provide her a luxurious lifestyle. A lifestyle she wouldn’t have if she wasn’t with him, as he’d also reminded her over the years. Little did he know that, in the absence of any funds from him other than those he deemed necessary, Diana had made provision of her own.
‘I gather you had a meeting with Jason today?’ she asked him. ‘Karla mentioned it,’ she supplied, when he glanced enquiringly in her direction.
‘I did,’ he said, with another discernible sigh. ‘Complete waste of time.’
‘I see,’ Diana said. ‘Why do you hate him so much, Robert?’ she asked him, wanting to catch him off guard.
She had, clearly. Turning back to her, Robert searched her face warily. ‘I don’t hate him,’ he refuted. ‘I don’t rate him, but I don’t hate him.’
‘You disliked him from the moment you set eyes on him,’ Diana reminded him scornfully.
‘He got our daughter pregnant, Diana. Is your memory that short?’
‘No, Robert, it’s not,’ Diana replied, pointedly holding his gaze. She remembered very well the events of twelve years ago: Robert’s shock and outrage to the news that Karla was pregnant, his determination to try to persuade her not to have the child. Diana often wondered whether, on seeing Holly grow from a tiny baby into the beautiful young girl she was, he might have any regrets about such a suggestion. She very much doubted it. Robert never had regrets. His philosophy in life was to look to the future. He never looked back, possibly for fear of seeing the casualties he’d left in his wake. Herself being one of them. Her dear friend another.
Upon learning exactly what kind of man Robert was, in the early days of their marriage, she’d thought that perhaps they deserved each other. She’d made her bed, and so she would lie in it. The ‘luxurious lifestyle’ made it tolerable.
She should have left him after losing Sarah. She would have, but for the fact that she hadn’t been emotionally strong. After suffering a double bereavement – her mother had also passed away – just getting through a single day had seemed an unsurmountable task. She’d functioned, but she hadn’t felt anything very much. She felt now though.
It had taken a while for her anger to surface after Sarah died. When it had, she’d subdued it, deciding to stay until Karla built a life of her own. And then she’d fallen into a routine, she supposed, once the grandchildren had come along. Seeing Robert’s continual attempts to destroy Karla’s marriage, though, had rekindled her simmering hatred for this bully of a man who would lie about his child’s death. The thing Diana could least forgive was that he’d simply carried on, doing exactly as he’d always done, running his business, controlling people. Still, he continued to think he was untouchable. But one day his past was going to catch up with him. The pity was, Diana wouldn’t be around to see his downfall.
‘So, what did she say?’ Robert asked as Diana studied him, looking for the usual signs of his lies. Was he aware, she wondered, that she could see his mind ticking over. The way he smoothed his hand along the drinks table or the coffee table, examining it for non-existent dust, or his tendency to fiddle with a shirt cuff or his watch strap – those were the little things he did when the cogs were going around, formulating explanations to account for his contemptible actions.
‘Nothing much. She was too upset,’ Diana supplied. ‘I gather you’ve refused to back his business. Why, Robert? Jason didn’t come to you easily. Karla had to practically beg him. Why would you arrange a meeting with him and then turn him down?’
Robert’s expression was one of surprise. Was it genuine? Diana thought it actually was. ‘I did no such thing,’ he blustered, walking back to the drinks table to slosh a considerable measure of whisky into his glass. ‘What did he tell her?’
‘I’m not entirely sure.’ Diana continued to study him as he took another hefty gulp. He was agitated, but knowing Karla would find out, she didn’t think he would lie about something like this. ‘Karla thought it was something to do with his accounts.’
‘That’s absolute rubbish.’ Robert was adamant. ‘I offered him the loan. A considerable amount, in fact.’ Shaking his head, he drained his glass. ‘I told Karla from outset, the man’s a loser, hanging on in there, determined to make his business succeed even though he knows it’s doomed to failure without the right backing behind it.’
‘Determination is no bad trait though, is it?’ Diana suggested. ‘He’s a lot like you in some ways.’
Robert’s gaze shot to hers. ‘He’snothinglike me,’ he replied sharply.
Twenty
JASON
Jason guessed he’d be here at some point this evening. Contempt thick in his throat, he waited while his father-in-law drove into the car park of the golf club. Counselling himself not to do what he very much wanted to, he stayed put in his own car until he had parked in his designated space, and then climbed out.
Fenton got the shock of his life when he climbed out of his car and turned around to find Jason standing behind it. ‘Jason,’ he said, collecting himself and offering him that short, derisory smile of his. ‘Am I to assume you’ve reconsidered the offer I made you? Because, if so, this isn’t quite the place to—’
‘Don’t,’ Jason warned him, his throat tight, his gut twisting with a mixture of burning anger and sheer disbelief.
Fenton clearly got the message, appraising him silently for a second, and then looking away to close his car door. ‘I’m not sure what this is about,’ he said, his gaze coming back to his, ‘but you should know there are security cameras overlooking the car park.’
‘Fortunately for you,’ Jason said, fighting back the temptation to floor the bastard anyway. To hurt him badly. It would be worth doing time for.
Sighing demonstrably, Fenton shook his head and walked towards him.
Jason made no move to let him pass by, causing his step to falter.
Fenton kneaded his forehead agitatedly, glanced down and then back at him. ‘What is it you want, Jason?’ he asked him, his expression one of impatience. The man was scared though. Jason noted the nervousness in his eyes as they pivoted towards the building. It gave him no satisfaction. Seeing the man beg for his life just might.
‘Apart from to break your neck…’ he said, and paused, and watched as a slow swallow slid down Fenton’s throat, ‘from you, nothing, Fenton, other than to substantiate the bullshit you’ve been spouting – which is all you really have, isn’t it, at the end of the day: nothing?’
