I smile. ‘Worrying about the competition?’
He sits on the bed and grabs me around the waist. ‘Never!’
I laugh, my mind temporarily taken from my worries as he kisses me.
‘Anyway, stop distracting me, Fi. I need to get going.’ His hand slides beneath the covers.
‘Me?You’re the one getting all handsy.’
He laughs and gets to his feet. ‘I’ll have to save the “handsy” stuff for later.’
I lean back into the pillows and close my eyes. If only we could be like this all the time, without the stresses of work and… well, all the other stuff.
‘See you later, Fi.’
‘Have a good day.’
‘Love you.’ He blows me a kiss and leaves the bedroom. His feet clatter down the wooden staircase and his keys jangle as he picks them up off the hall shelf. The door slams. I close my eyes and listen to the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel drive. The sound of his car engine starting up. The hiss of tyres. And finally the sound of him driving away.
Exhaling, my heart rate slows. I have a day’s reprieve. A day to work out what I’m going to do. What I’m going to say.
A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s not quite 7 a.m. The tax inspectors said they’d be back this morning at nine. Apparently their investigation could take weeks.Weeks!I’ll never be able to keep it quiet. Nathan is bound to find out. Scratch that –everyonewill find out. I’ll be the subject of speculation and gossip, and that could seriously hurt my business. I feel a stress headache coming on at the thought of it. Why is this happening to me?
I push the covers back and get out of bed, heading to the bathroom. Okay, I need to think about this. I need to find a way to speed up their investigation and get them out. Maybe I should just be breezy and helpful. Make them see I’ve nothing to hide. It’ll be fine. I can charm them. Win them over. Become their friend. But as I picture Cathleen’s blank face, the wordfriendlydoesn’t exactly spring to mind. I suppose I could concentrate my efforts on John, but what if those two are an item? I can’t see it, but knowing my luck, Cathleen probably has a crush on him. If that’s the case, then if I started flirting with him, she’ll have it in for me. No, I need to keep this professional. I’ll be open and friendly. Breezy it is.
I shower, dress and go downstairs. Our open-plan kitchen-diner leads onto a wooden deck overlooking the lake. It’s a stunning view by anyone’s standards. A view that should make me happy to be alive. Everything outside is green and blue and sparkling. There are already people out on the water, rowing, swimming, sailing, canoeing – enjoying life. White sails billowing and distant dots of colour clipping along. How can I live in such a beautiful and idyllic place and yet feel so much anxiety?
I open the fridge and pull out a few vegetables to toss into the blender, adding a third of a banana for sweetness and energy. I don’t fancy it at all – I’d kill for some Nutella on toast, but I’m watching my weight, plus I need to keep my strength up and stay focused today. Aside from the fact that Nathan doesn’t like us keeping junk food in the house –far too tempting. So I pour the disgusting snot-green smoothie into a glass and force it down before leaving for work.
I’ll leave the car at home today. The walk will do me good and hopefully clear my head. I should still get to the showroom an hour or so before the tax officers, which will give me time to have a nose around and see what they were doing yesterday. Maybe it will give me some clues as to what they’re looking for. Yet again, I wonder what prompted the investigation. Did they find something suspicious in my tax returns, or was it a random spot check? Or were my earlier thoughts correct?Did someone report me?If they did, who might it have been? I suppose the most obvious culprit would be a professional rival. Someone who wants my business to fail. I’m good at what I do, and I have a lot of loyal clients. But I don’t know my competition well enough to know who might be capable of such a horrible thing.
Nathan isn’t going to be happy. He’s suggested a couple of times that I might want to use an accountant, but I reassured him that I’m more than capable of doing my own books. He seemed okay with it. Respected my decision. But maybe Nathan was right. A professional might have prevented this distress. There’s also another reason why I haven’t used an accountant, but I push that thought away.It’ll be fine, I tell myself for the millionth time.
The streets are busier at this time of the morning, with commuters heading to work on foot and by bike and car, people walking their dogs, and parents on the school run, pushing prams and calling after kids on scooters. I pass Kelly’s road and have a sudden yearning to call in on her unannounced. To sit in her tatty but welcoming kitchen and have a gossip about everyday things. To forget all about my current situation. To have a laugh like back when we were kids. Before life got in the way. I wish I could turn back the clock…
I realise that wishing and moping aren’t going to get me anywhere, so I pick up my pace, square my shoulders and try to be positive. Nothing bad has actually happened yet. I might be stressing over nothing.
Normally, when I reach the main road and see the nameSalinger’sabove my showroom windows, my heart lifts and I can’t wait to start my day. However, this morning it inspires a renewed feeling of dread. A sinking stone in my stomach.It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.I say the words over and over again in my head. Willing them to be true.
I cross the road and take the keys out of my handbag. At least I’ll have a short while on my own before Molly and the tax inspectors arrive. I’m looking forward to firing up the coffee machine and sitting in my office.
As I reach the pavement, from the corner of my eye I notice two people get out of a silver Volkswagen Passat that’s parked further up the road in one of the parking bays. It’s a man and woman. They’re dressed in grey suits, and my whole body tightens in frustration. It’s Cathleen bloody Docherty and John Whatshisface from the tax office. I check my watch and see that the time is only ten past eight. They said they’d be back in at nine.Nine.It’s not nine.
They’re heading my way. I try to calm down. Maybe they’re going to go for breakfast first. Act friendly,breezy. I can’t let them see my annoyance.
‘Morning!’ I call out through a fake smile. I insert the key in the lock and open the door, stepping inside to disable the alarm, then turning back to them.
‘Good morning,’ John says.
Cathleen gives a perfunctory nod.
‘You’re nice and early.’ My voice is chirpy, like a children’s TV presenter.
‘We like to beat the traffic,’ John replies. ‘We didn’t think you’d be in until nine. But we may as well get started now you’re here.’
‘Sure, sure. Come in.’ They follow me through to the showroom. ‘I woke up early myself, so thought I may as well get to work. You’ll want the office again, right?’
‘Please.’ John nods.
