‘What are you going to tell Poppy?’ asked her mother.
‘I don’t know,’ said Callie. ‘I don’t want to break her heart.’
‘You haven’t broken her heart,’ said her mother. ‘Jason has. You’re going to be the one delivering the news. The only plus is that, if people see where he is and that he’s with another woman, nobody is going to be thinking you had a hand to play in any of this fraud business.’
Callie laughed again, but this time with no warmth: ‘Yes, there’s always a bright side to finding out your husband has another woman,’ she said.
The theoretical bright side was a final slicing of the marital link. If Jason had wanted to divorce her with an assassin’s blade, he couldn’t have done it more successfully.
It still hurt. Before, she’d assumed the worst. Now, it had been confirmed. Jason had simply packed and left, thinking nothing of her or their child. They were clearly nothing to him.
With instructions to her mother to hide the newspaper, Callie left Nora and her mother sitting at home, grabbed her coat and went out. She didn’t take the dog and her mother didn’t ask her to. There was one thing the picture of Jason and his new woman had done to her – it had made her realise that she needed more Xanax. She was down to two and she wanted to take them now.
She couldn’t cope with this on her own. The pain of being lied to; the pain of thinking Jason loved Poppy, loved her, and then finding out it was all fake; she simply couldn’t deal with that. She needed to take the edge off.
If he’d wanted a divorce, she’d have been utterly heartbroken but she’d have given it to him. But Jason had told her he loved her all the time. Toldeveryonehe loved her. Told everyone he was the happiest man on the planet with her and Poppy and now she, and everyone else, knew it had all been a lie.
She dry-swallowed the remaining tablets as she walked down the road, desperate for some relief.
In the pub, she had two vodkas straight up, which she’d have never done before, and ordered a third, with some tonic, before finding Glory sitting inevitably in her spot.
‘Xanax. I need some. Now. Stronger dosage,’ she rapped out.
‘Keep your voice down,’ said Glory. ‘I’m tolerated here, not a paid-up member of staff.’
‘Meet you out back in an hour,’ said Callie.
‘Fine. You’re a right narky bitch,’ muttered Glory. She got to her feet. ‘You staying?’
Callie picked up her glass and took a deep draught. ‘Oh yes,’ she said.
She’d had enough, absolutely enough, and this evening, she wanted to be totally and utterly numb. Whatever it took.
Sam
Sam took India into the office for everyone to admire and even Andrew, who clearly looked terrified of babies, said she was adorable.
‘Little pet,’ said Rosalind, tickling India’s cheek.
Gareth, who talked nineteen to the dozen to Sam about the big data research he was doing on key words linked to dementia, wanted to pick India up and snuggle her.
‘Three older sisters, and therefore, plenty of nieces and nephews,’ he said, holding India expertly and nuzzling her joyfully.
She cooed back at him.
‘Aren’t you the little darling?’
While Gareth talked to India, Sam talked to Dave, her stand-in, and they discussed the Ballyglen crisis.
‘Nothing in the media yet. Andrew’s paid the debt out of his own money—’
‘Wow,’ said Sam. ‘That’s incredible.’
‘I know. It could have ruined us – still could have a terrible effect, but so far, so good. The only hangover from it all currently is a nursing home in the area, Leap of Faith. It’s a charitable trust nursing home and they got a lot of funds from us. We simply can’t cut them off because one of their prime supporters was siphoning off cash for gambling. I’ve got letters here from their director wondering if the funding cuts were going to keep continuing.’
They both winced.
‘We need to visit them,’ said Sam.
