‘Obviously,’ Josh retorted, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I’ll be struggling to pee otherwise, won’t I?’
‘No flies on you, are there, tiger?’ Jason replied smartly.
‘Funny. You should do stand-up. Not.’ Josh’s response was smarter still.
Jason couldn’t help but laugh at his son’s flat expression. ‘Thirteen minutes,’ he warned him.
‘And counting. I know. Go.’ Walking across to him, Josh shooed him out. At ten years old, and still to hit the growing phase, Josh didn’t have a lot to be shy about, but Jason got it, and dutifully closed his door to allow him some privacy.
‘All right if I go in the shower, Karla?’ he called downstairs. ‘I…’ He stopped as she appeared in the hall, cling film in one hand, presumably with which to wrap the children’s lunches, and a coffee in the other. ‘I have my meeting with your father to prepare for,’ he finished, trying not to look too depressed at the prospect.
‘I know. I’ve rung work, told them I have an urgent dental appointment, so you go ahead,’ Karla said, mounting the stairs to hand him the coffee and then dashing down again.
‘Cheers.’ Jason had no idea how she’d made it so quickly, but he grabbed it gratefully. He had a feeling he might need plenty of caffeine today, and possibly something a lot stronger later.
‘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 luck message, 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 nee
d 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.
‘Right,’ I say, wearing my stern look, which they can see straight through, ‘whoever forgot to do the post this morning gets to make the coffee today.’
‘That will be Lucy.’ Our senior assistant, Zoe, nods across to Lucy with a grin. ‘She’s a bit distracted. New boyfriend,’ she mouths conspiratorially in my direction.
‘Ah.’ Glancing knowingly in Lucy’s direction, I head over to Zoe’s desk with the files. ‘I remember it well,’ I say, smiling indulgently.
‘Ooh.’ Yasmin makes wide eyes at me from across the room. ‘Come on, give us the goss. That husband of yours is hot.’
‘Most definitely,’ I concur. With his dark, moody good looks, Jason definitely qualifies as hot. I don’t give them the goss, obviously, just enough carefully embroidered detail to assure them all is right in our marriage. Aware that Jason and I have had some problems – I’ve shared on occasion, empathising perhaps when someone has been struggling with a relationship – the girls are pleased for me. We’re not all besties – the age gap and the fact that I’m their superior doesn’t allow it – but we are friends, and I value that. It’s nice to be able to chat about things other than work. Plus, having a good relationship with the women makes my job so much easier.
Back in my office, I manage to reschedule the community services rota, which is miraculous but essential, with a young single mum who has a boy with severe physical disability relying on us for assistance. Well into my lunchtime, I’m actually thinking about having some lunch when my mobile rings. My dad, I realise, noting his number. Strange that he would call now, when he’s seeing Jason in half an hour.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I say, curious.
‘Karla. I imagine you’ll be busy, and I’m in a meeting myself, so I won’t keep you,’ Dad says with his usual officiousness. ‘I was wondering, have you checked his laptop?’
‘Sorry?’ I furrow my brow.
‘I thought I’d mention it. It’s just that, after our conversation on Saturday about the – shall we say – undesirable content on Jason’s phone, and then my almost falling over his computer in your hall, it occurred to me that you should check it.’
It wasn’t ‘our’ conversation, I think, peeved already with his interference. It was a private conversation with Mum which he eavesdropped on. I would never have dreamed of confiding in Mum if I’d thought there was the slightest danger of my father overhearing. And hang on a minute. What does he mean, ‘check it’? Does Dad think he damaged the laptop?
But I know what he means. The implication lands like a cold stone in my chest.
THIRTEEN
JASON
Fenton’s receptionist, Abbie – whom Jason had met once before, and whom he’d gathered didn’t rate her boss highly, unsurprisingly – smiled apologetically when he arrived at Fenton’s premises. ‘He’s in a sales meeting,’ she said, nodding towards the glass-sided conference room.
‘Right.’ Jason sighed, immediately irked, since he’d made sure to be there bang on time, as instructed.
‘He shouldn’t be too long. Why don’t I grab you a coffee, while you wait?’ she suggested, nodding him towards the waiting area.
‘No, I’m good, thanks, Abbie.’ Hiding his agitation, which he would have to do if he was going to get through this, Jason smiled back and took a seat. He had no doubt that Fenton was going to keep him waiting, indicating the shape of things to come.
After several minutes, Fenton acknowledged him with the briefest glance and then carried on pontificating, pointing at his whiteboard, his gestures animated, demonstrating what a great businessman he was.
Jason sighed in despair, and then suppressed an almost overwhelming desire to leave as he watched the man plant his fists on the long conference table, leaning forwards to mouth off at some poor guy sitting at the other end who was clearly under attack and looked as if he would quite like to crawl under the table. He wasn’t sure how he stayed put when, after walking around the table, his hands laced behind his back like a sergeant major, Robert paused behind a young female employee who was now addressing the meeting. It was apparent from where Jason was sitting, directly opposite them, that the man was paying more attention to how she looked than what she was saying.
What he did next was unbelievable – or totally believable, depending on how well you knew the man. Staggered, Jason watched as Fenton leaned over her, placing an arm around her shoulders, ostensibly to peer down at her figures. Yeah, right. It wasn’t her numerical figures he was studying, that was for sure. Did people like him really still get away with that sort of shit?
Disgusted, Jason debated whether to walk away from the whole thing now. His own marketing manager, Rachel, would probably clock the bastard one, and with Jason’s blessing. She wouldn’t want to be within a million miles of someone like Fenton, let alone involved in business with him.
‘Still as charming as ever, isn’t he?’ Abbie commented.
Jason shook his head contemptuously. ‘Delightful,’ he said. ‘Why does she put up with it?’ He had to ask, though he guessed it was because she didn’t have a lot of choice.
Abbie glanced nervously towards the meeting room and then back to him. ‘Because she’ll be “let go” if she complains,’ she supplied. ‘She’s a single mum with two children. She’s looking for alternative employment, but she’ll need a decent reference, so…’
And therein lay the problem. Jason wondered at the workings of a world that allowed men like Robert Fenton to thrive. If anyone deserved to be put out of business, it was a misogynist and bully like him. But then, money talked, didn’t it, as his father-in-law was fond of telling him. And with non-disclosure agreements no doubt signed as part of their contracts, his employees couldn’t say a word. Did he ever consider that his daughter worked in an office environment? Or wonder how Karla would feel at the hands of some chauvinistic, sexist prick like him? Jason laughed scornfully. Even if he did consider it, he probably wouldn’t give a damn, imagining it was part of what women got paid for. Jason’s jaw tightened. If he had any hint that Karla was subjected to anything like this, he doubted he would be able to stop himself fighting that battle for her, whether she wanted him to or not.
‘I can’t believe he’s your father-in-law.’ Abbie’s expression was a mixture of appalled and sympathetic.
‘Me either,’ Jason said, feeling deeply embarrassed. Fenton had been up to hi
s usual tricks when he’d seen him that first time in Abbie’s company. He’d called to collect Karla, who’d been out to a birthday lunch with Fenton. She was in the toilets when he arrived. Fenton was in reception, standing way too close to Abbie, his eyes everywhere but on her screen as he’d supposedly been checking his appointments. Jason had felt like apologising for the man that day.
‘And you’re going to be involved in some kind of business merger with him?’ she asked, her expression surprised.
‘Not a merger exactly, no.’ Kneading his temples, Jason sighed tiredly and wondered how he’d managed to find himself manipulated into a corner by Fenton. He’d tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing. The immediate benefit of Robert’s investment would be that he could inject more cash into the software issue they were struggling with, meaning he could save the contract with his major client, which would undoubtedly secure business with other interested parties. Karla had begged him to do this, though she knew he’d been determined not to. Sacrificing his principles and finally agreeing had certainly improved things on the home front. Despite the fact that things hadn’t worked out in bed last night, he and Karla had been more relaxed with each other this morning. Jason was regretting his decision now though. Coming here had reminded him why he’d wanted nothing to do with the man. But how the hell did he backtrack without telling Karla they would be basically living hand-to-mouth while he filed for bankruptcy?
‘Good luck with that. I’m glad he’s not my father-in-law,’ Abbie said, then looked sharply up, plastering a smile in place as Fenton marched out of the meeting room, leaving the female employee he’d been harassing throwing murderous glances after him.
‘Afternoon, Jason,’ he said, with a short smile. ‘Sorry about that. Sales team needed a sharp reminder of what their jobs are.’
Yeah, and you need a sharp reminder of what an obnoxious prat you are, Jason wanted to say. But he simply nodded.
The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Page 8