“You're not making sense, Pauline.”
But the valve had been opened on the fear and anger bottled up inside her for so long, allowing it to gush out as an unstoppable force.
“In the company flat too, how very convenient. Did she go to Spain with you, Howard? Is that the reason for your behaviour since then? Tell me the secret, Howard, what's the attraction? Is she better in bed than I am? Of course, she is probably younger. Knocking off a younger woman seems to be the management trend at Impact these days. Perhaps you should have a doctor check out your heart, see if you can last the pace.”
“Pauline, this is nonsense. There isn't anyone else.”
“Then tell me why you are going.”
“I can't.” Greenfield moved towards her, his arms outstretched. “Please try to understand. This is something I have to sort out for myself.”
“Don't touch me.” The abruptness of her tone shocked him, stopping his move towards her. “If you're going, just go. Clear out. The sooner, the better.”
She turned and ran downstairs.
Greenfield finished his packing with a heavy heart. How could a day that had started so marvellously end in such utter desolation? He couldn't tell Pauline the truth. How could he make her believe there was no-one else?
Leaving his suitcase in the hallway, he went into the kitchen where his wife stood, dry-eyed, staring out of the window.
“Please, Pauline, there is no other woman.” Choked with emotion, his voice was breaking up. “I have problems in my life right now only I can overcome. No-one can help me. In a few days I'll be back and we can get back to normal. We'll make it a really good Christmas this year.”
“Just go, Howard. She'll be wondering where you are.”
Greenfield made to continue his pleas, but no words came out. What use was it, anyway?
“Daddy, why don't you love us anymore?”
A thunderbolt could not have dealt him a greater blow. His whole body sagged at his daughter's words. He had not even been aware of her coming into the kitchen behind him.
“I do love you, darling, very much, both you and mummy. Things will be better soon, you'll see.”
When he moved forward to kiss her forehead, his daughter turned away, running to her mother's side. He looked at them both in silent agony. There was nothing more he could say.
When the front door had shut behind him, Pauline lifted the chilled bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, before tipping the chunks of ice, with a noisy clatter, into the sink. As hot water from the tap turned them rapidly to liquid and swilled them away, she couldn't help thinking that fifteen years of marriage was going down the drain with them.
Later, in the silent seclusion of the company flat, Howard Greenfield sat staring at the gun in his hand. It was a cold, unfriendly object, as befitted an instrument of death.
Walking over to the full-length mirror on the wall, he lifted up the gun, pointing it straight between the eyes of his own reflection. Could he really do it? They made it seem so easy; pull the trigger and run. For nearly three months he had agonised over what he would do when the time came. Yet, finally, fate had stepped in to tip the scales. If the telephone call had come a week before, or a month before, he would have wrestled for days with the dilemma. On this day it had taken only hours. There really was no choice. He had achieved his ultimate career ambition, an obsession which had dominated years of work, dedication and sacrifice. Nothing was going to cheat him out of that. Flickering memories of the film of he and Julie in Barcelona rattled around his brain. He had no doubt these people would carry out their threat if he failed to carry out this execution. But to take a man's life? The events of the day had ended the dilemma. Now there was too much to lose, much too much.
Squeezing the trigger of the unloaded gun, he said quietly, “You picked a hell of a bloody time to go, Jason.”
Chapter Sixteen
Friday dawned bright and sunny, but with a temperature struggling to get above freezing point. Pauline Greenfield was up early, having decided she could not endure another day of inactivity. Her husband had made no contact since leaving on Tuesday evening; neither had she made any attempt to get in touch with him.
Though she would have preferred not to, she decided she must see David Maddocks. She had to find out what it was he had that he felt she should see, so important he couldn't tell her over the telephone. Perhaps he had uncovered the key to the whole tragic mess.
However, that was not her first priority as she went into Diane's bedroom shortly before seven o'clock to ensure her daughter was awake. Sitting on the side of the bed, Pauline said, “Darling, I think we'll forget school today. I am going to take you to Aunt Valerie's for a few days, while your daddy and I sort ourselves out.”
“Oh, do I have to?” her daughter moaned sleepily. “I don't mind missing school, but I would rather stay here with you.”
“I know you would and I wish you didn't have to go, but I think it's for the best.” Putting an arm around Diane's shoulders, Pauline gently kissed the top of her head. “It won't be for long, I promise. Then you'll come back and we'll have a really super Christmas.”
She wondered if her lack of conviction showed in her voice. Time ticked away as Diane dithered, as if deliberately trying to delay the moment when she would have to leave, so that Pauline constantly had to hurry her along.
The journey to her sister's took close on two hours, a country drive that Pauline usually enjoyed, yet on this occasion hardly noticed. Reluctant as Diane had been to leave her home, there was no hiding her delight as they entered her Aunt Valerie's house. Her eyes lit up at the decorations covering the walls, bunches of balloons in all sorts of crazy shapes and sizes, the holly flaunting its bright red berries, trying to outdo the lily-white mistletoe. A Christmas tree stood regally in the corner, draped in sparkling silver and gold tinsel.
It was a totally different atmosphere to that which she had unwillingly left a couple of hours before. Here was warmth spawned only by the happiness of a home and the people within it. Pauline was glad to see the transformation in her daughter. It was so easy for people to become so wrapped up in their own problems to a point where they underestimate or ignore the effect it may be having on a son or daughter. “She's only a child, she doesn't really understand.” The phrase rolls easily off the tongue. But they do and they hurt.
Expecting a barrage of questions from Valerie, Pauline tried to avoid being alone with her. However, when Valerie announced, with Diane settled doing, under protest, school work in the living room, that coffee had been poured in the kitchen, it became difficult without causing some sort of scene in front of her daughter.
“What's going on?” Valerie asked bluntly, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, as they sat facing each other across a small, wooden table in the kitchen.
“Still putting sugar in your coffee,” Pauline observed evasively, striving to avoid eye contact with her sister. “Give it up. Bad for you and it spoils the taste of the coffee.”
Not hiding her impatience, Valerie tried again. “Pauline, are you going to tell me what's going on?”
“Not if I can avoid it, no.”
“You can't,” Valerie insisted. “You can't take your daughter out of school, make a two-hour drive to bring her to me for a few days while, you're telling me, you and Howard sort some things out and expect not to offer any further explanation than that. This is your sister you're talking to. Now tell me everything.”
Pauline sat back in her chair with a deep sigh. This was a conversation she had been desperate not to have, knowing realistically it would be difficult to avoid. She didn't tell Valerie absolutely everything, but gave instead a broad outline of events around Howard's trip to Barcelona, his behaviour since and her suspicions that another woman was involved.
“You don't know for sure there's someone else,” offered Valerie, after reflecting for a few moments on what she had heard. “Howard says there isn't. Why should you not believe him?”
<
br /> “Convince me there's another explanation.”
“What are your inner feelings about Howard?” Valerie asked. “Do you love him?”
“For Heaven's sake Val, you tell me what love is,” said Pauline, throwing her arms up in exasperation, “and I'll tell you if I love him.”
“Love is different things to different people, but you would know it if you felt it.”
Despite the sombre tone of the conversation, Pauline couldn't hide a flicker of a smile. “Now you're sounding like something out of Mills and Boon.”
Not averse to a slight lightening of the mood, Valerie shared the moment with the briefest of laughs, but insisted, “That doesn't make it any less true.”
“I don't know, Val. Until this all blew up, I had come to feel a great closeness to him, a joy of sharing my life with his, thinking of things not just in relation to me, but to both of us. When he's away I miss waking up beside him in the morning and the pleasure of hearing his car pull onto the driveway in the evenings. Now I feel a great emptiness in my life at the possibility of losing all this.” Pauline's voice quavered, but she held back the tears. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of her sister. “If all that is what love is to me, then I guess I love him.”
Valerie reached across the table to take hold of Pauline's hand as she saw her sister's eyes moisten, though no tears fell.
“You told me you didn't love him when you married him,” Valerie recalled. “You were honest with me about that.”
“That's true,” Pauline said, squeezing her sister's hand. “I'm sure it's easier to know what love isn't than what it is. Other guys I'd been in relationships with were nice enough, but no-hopers. Howard was different. I could see where Howard was going and knew he would give me the life-style I wanted. Feelings can change and grow, though, Val. Perhaps it's Diane that's brought us closer together, I don't know. He's been a wonderful father; he's very proud of her and she adores him. It's taken time, but my feelings now are not the same as when I married him. I'm not sure I can face a life with him not being around.”
Valerie picked up the coffee mugs, moving to put them on the work surface beside the sink.
“There's no way Howard could have found out about David?” she asked, leaning back against the kitchen unit as she turned to face Pauline.
“Not unless you've told him; you're the only one I have ever told. In any case there's nothing to find out about David. He's just a friend.”
“Then why haven't you told Howard about David?”
“Val, you know it doesn't work like that.”
“Then just how does it work, Pauline? You're seeing another man, for Christ's sake.”
“I'm not seeing another man, as you put it. David's just a friend. It's a platonic relationship, not a romantic one.”
“He doesn't see it as platonic.”
“I can handle that.” Pauline stood up from the table, putting on her coat in readiness to leave. “God knows Val, I wouldn't want to change Howard for the world, but life with him can be so serious and intense sometimes. David is the total opposite. He has a fun attitude to life, sees work as a job, not a career, makes me laugh and he's good to be around for short periods, but it's all pretty shallow. This is why his wife divorced him and he is never going to be competition for Howard.”
Pauline went into the living room to say farewell to Diane with what she hoped felt like a reassuring hug and kiss. She wished she really felt the reassurance herself. Back in the hallway, she moved towards the front door, hoping to avoid further conversation with her sister, but Valerie appeared alongside before grabbing her arm and pulling her back into the kitchen.
“First thing you do is get rid of the light relief.”
This wasn't something Pauline wanted to talk about, but it seemed her only line of escape.
“I already have,” she replied, hoping that would be enough to placate her sister, so she could withdraw from any elaboration. “David's history.”
Valerie was having none of it. There was something in the manner and tone of Pauline's announcement of David's demise that indicated there was more to it than a straight forward rejection.
“Why did you not tell me that earlier?” probed Valerie. “What were you hiding? Tell me what happened with David?”
“It was nothing.” Pauline awkwardly looked up at the ceiling and around the walls, anywhere but into her sister's eyes. “It was just a kiss.”
“Just a kiss,” Valerie exploded. “I assume we're not talking a peck on the cheek here. Pauline, whatever were you thinking about?”
“It didn't mean anything,” Pauline blustered. “I was stressed out with worry about Howard. I was very vulnerable.”
“And David took full advantage. He's been trying to get you into his bed for two years, Pauline; he saw a chink in your armour, went for it and you let him in.”
“It was a mad, bad moment, but I pulled away and ended it with David.” Pauline put a hand on Valerie's arm. “Don't make me out to be the bad guy in this situation.”
“No-one's making you out to be the bad guy,” said Valerie, pulling her sister to her and enveloping her in a long, affectionate hug. “I just want things to work out for you and Howard. You have to find him and talk to him. You have to make him open up to you.”
“I wish it were that simple,” answered Pauline, pulling away from her sister's comforting arms.
“And definitely no more David.”
“No more David, I promise.”
It was after midday when Pauline eased her Metro on to the car park at Clinton Nuts and Bolts Limited. She looked up at the red-brick office building, full of apprehension. Why was there such a powerful urge to turn the car around, drive away, keep on driving, never knowing the truth? The urge was resisted. She had to know.
Knowing where she was headed, she felt badly about the promise she had made to Valerie, but she had to get out of that house and her sister's probing. She had to see David one more time. The pretty, dark-haired girl at the reception desk welcomed her with a smile.
“Good morning, can I help you?”
“I would like to see Mr. Maddocks, please.”
“I'll just see if he is free. What name shall I say?”
“Tell him it's Mrs. Greenfield.”
Turning way, the receptionist pushed a button and spoke briefly into the telephone. Returning to Pauline, she said, “He's got someone with him at the moment, but he should be free in about ten minutes. He says he would be delighted to see you if you can spare the time to wait.”
Nodding her thanks, Pauline settled in one of a couple of easy chairs set in the carpeted reception area. It would have been better if she had not had to wait. The last thing she needed at the moment was time to think, time to ponder whether she was making a mistake. There was still time to get up and leave.
“Mr. Maddocks will see you now, Mrs. Greenfield, through the double doors, second door on the right.
Pauline's watch told her she had waited nearer fifteen minutes than ten. The office was small, with two wooden desks, set at right-angles to each other, littered with papers and brochures. Plastered around the walls were posters extolling the virtues of an amazing number of nuts and bolts, this thread and that thread, this head and that head. A VDU stood in isolation on its own table, the small green cursor flashing monotonously in the top left hand corner of the otherwise blank screen.
“Pauline, how marvellous to see you.” David Maddocks, behind one of the paper-strewn desks, stood up to welcome her, his eyes wandering blatantly down the length of her body. “I'm sorry you had to wait. Have to keep the customers happy.”
“Of course,” said Pauline, accepting his gestured invitation to take the seat in front of his desk. “I didn't expect to walk straight in without making an appointment.”
“Good God, Pauline,” beamed David. “You don't have to make an appointment to see me. I'm always delighted to see you, though I would normally prefer it to be in less formal surroundi
ngs.”
“This is a formal visit, David, not a social one.” She was curt and unsmiling. “You said on the telephone you had something I should see.”
“Well, yes, that's true.” He permitted himself the flicker of a grin at the thought of the envelope in his top, left-hand drawer. “But I think we might discuss it better over a drink, or a spot of lunch, in a more relaxed environment.” With a glance at his watch, he added, “If you can hang on just a few minutes longer, I can……”
“Stop playing games, David,” interrupted Pauline, her patience pushed to the limit. “I am not going for a drink with you. I am not going to lunch with you. Those days are over, finished with. What do I have to do to make you understand that? Now please, show me what it is I should see.”
Deciding to press the lunch invitation no further, David lifted the envelope out of the drawer. It had to come, the moment he had waited for since the report arrived on his desk. For two years he had lived with a consuming desire for this woman. In his hand, he was sure, he held the passport to its fulfilment.
“You said you wanted to know what, if anything, happened to Howard when he was in Barcelona.” David paused for effect, hopefully adding to her air of anticipation. “Well, I hired a firm of private investigators in Spain to look into your husband's movements during his stay. What I have here is their report.”
“You what!” Pauline's eyes widened, ablaze with amazement and anger. “By what right did you do that? I don't believe this!”
The vehemence of her response startled him. This was not what he expected.
“I was concerned about you,” he protested. “I wanted to set your mind at ease, one way or the other.”
He could hardly admit to the true reason for his commissioning the investigation.
Her anger remained unabated. “How could you go to such lengths without consulting me first? Who the hell do you think you are, intruding into our private lives to this extent? How dare you check on my husband's movements without seeking my permission? I can't believe your arrogance. Do you really think I would have gone along with such an exercise?”
The Hit-and-Run Man Page 11