But as she picked up his jacket, something slipped halfway out of the pocket, a folded bank receipt along with a few torn betting slips.
Whereas usually she would respect his privacy and tuck it back in, tonight she needed anything she could get, and in a single, swift movement, she opened it up.
There she saw the exact number that had been on the check that her uncle had left her, withdrawn from Frank’s bank account.
Frantically, she pulled out the betting slips.
Her eyes skipped over the time and place, only landing on the large amounts on each bet. Together they made up over half of her inheritance. Grappling through the other slips, she almost didn’t need to read them to know for sure: her money was gone.
The world shifted sideways.
How had he gambled away her precious inheritance?
What about her and Annabel’s trip? What about her dream, her escape, her freedom?
Her face scrunched with pain and rage and, unable to hold it inside any longer, she screamed, guttural and raw, as if someone had ripped out her heart.
How could he have done this to her?
THERE IS A MOMENTin everyone’s lives when the truth becomes painfully stark, the reality at once clear.
At that moment, Caroline knew what had been happening, as if she’d known it all along.
Dragging his clothes from the wardrobe, she began to shake them, turning them upside down. Loose change fell from pockets along with cards and betting slips, and then, with a clunk on the floor, one solitary key.
Hastily, she grabbed it and ran down the stairs to Frank’s office. She tried the key, felt the lock slide, and the door fell open in front of her.
A single bulb lit the small, square room, a desk on one side. The rest of the space was filled with bookcases and filing cabinets, neglected and messy with dusty books and old papers.
On the desk was a metal lockbox, and as she opened it, her world fell apart.
Instead of the banknotes and coins, the well-ordered finances of a family, there was no money at all. The piles of letters were in fact bills and debts, various suppliers and investors wanting their money with increasing threats. Another locksmith – clearly taking over work that Frank’s company had promised and then failed to deliver – said that he would ‘send round the boys’ if he didn’t pay up.
But most frightening were the letters from the money lender. Frank had made it sound as if the debt was paid off, but these notices made it clear that it was nowhere near done, especially with the hefty levels of interest accruing by the day.
Was this where her hard-earned wages were going?
Numbness came over her as she reached in for more last-notice bills, the house mortgaged to the hilt, borrowed against her new income.
Then came the sound of the front door banging against the wall, uneven steps staggering down the hallway.
At the end of the passage, Frank stopped as his eyes alighted on herthrough the open office door, his lockbox open, the desk festooned with a debris of loans, bills and betting slips.
Suddenly sober, he stood up to his full height and strode towards her. ‘You whore,’ he growled. ‘You dirty slut.’
But her anger was greater.
‘How dare you?’ she bellowed with a gruffness she never knew she had. ‘How dare you cash my inheritance and gamble it away?’ She stormed around the desk towards him. ‘You convinced me to help you give up gambling, only to stab me in the back. How could you take advantage of me, stealing the one thing that was mine?’
A barrage of names flew from him, but she let them pass over her, her rage unstoppable as she raised her voice over his, raucous after the years of silence.
‘You guilted me into believing that you saved me, when it’s beenmewho’s saving you.’
His tone shifted, calmer, conciliatory. ‘Let’s call it even, shall we? I’ll pretend nothing happened in Scotland, and you wipe the slate clean on the inheritance?’ He took a step towards her, reaching for her arm. ‘Come on, love. Let’s sit down and talk about it. Didn’t I give Annabel a real dad – someone who didn’t desert you?’
‘You call that a good dad? You ignore Annabel, treat her as if she isn’t worthy of your attention. Her real father spent one day with her and gave her more genuine love than you’ve given her in thirteen years.’
‘She saw him, too?’ His voice lowered, rough with anger.
