If He Wakes

by If He Wakes (retail) (epub)

  She made Adam co-signatory so he could handle her account along with his others. If Suzie was honest (although she would never admit it to Adam), she found it all confusing. As most of her customers were businesses, they rarely paid her in cash. Most of it was done via bank transfer, so she made the legitimate payments into the accounts and left it to Adam to fiddle his side, the cash payments.

  If one account started looking too healthy, he gave her different details for clients to pay into, stressing how it was better in their pocket rather than the taxman’s. She had cards on all his accounts, used the ones he told her to and, sometimes, he’d give her a wad of cash. It was easy for him as the majority of his clients were all members of the public. They paid in notes and coins. Adam explained that this was how he’d worked for years and from previous experience with her ex-boyfriend, cheating the taxman was something that Suzie understood.

  There was a shout and then a cheer, the tightrope walker had finished his routine and Suzie looked up, watching, while in her mind she went back to the statements, to where Adam had forged her signature for the overdraft, to the potential loss of her flat in Charles Street. He'd said they'd sell that flat after they were married. Sell his flat as well and use the money to buy a semi somewhere out of the city, somewhere with a garden. A family home. They were going to start a family, once they were married; it was the next step. He’d promised.

  The cold had made her stiff and she moved quickly to work her circulation. She made her way out of the centre and towards the Cathedral just as it began to rain. She dodged the groups of tourists and ducked instead to the side of the shops, under its covered walkway. Unlike the black and white half-timbered rows in the centre, the walkway by the Cathedral was made from imitation concrete columns and offered none of the cosy shelter, although she was out of the rain, the wind blew hard and almost took her breath away.

  And then she was out, back in the open and facing the town hall where small wooden huts were being constructed. The Christmas markets were due to open in a few days and as Suzie walked past the imitation Alpine huts, the prickly feeling of fear she felt earlier returned. She made her way past the police and bus station and toward the multi-storey car park. She'd try Adam again when she got to the car. He'd have an explanation for it, he was probably in his flat now above the studio, emptying the safe and on his way to the bank, because, of course, his cards would also have been frozen. So wherever Adam was, whatever he was doing, he couldn't get any money out of the account either.

  The thought of Adam cursing the cash machine gave her some reassurance; as he was out on a job he wouldn’t have taken any cash as everything on location was to be put through as ‘expenses’ and needed to be traced. Silly sod. He’d be on his way back now, she was sure, he wouldn’t be able to survive with a frozen card. By lunchtime it would all be sorted.

  He owed her for this. She'd make him take her to the Grosvenor, a nice meal. Full works. She'd forgive him somewhere around dessert, she could hear how he'd apologise. Explaining how he'd got lazy with the repayments, how he'd decided to up the overdraft because of low interest rates or some such reason, how he’d decided not to bother her with the paperwork.

  The car park was in desperate need of maintenance, the paint peeling away, the concrete slabs damp and she shivered as she got to her car. She'd insist he called her more regularly next time he was working away on location. No more of this laid back ‘phone me when you can’ nonsense. She was done pretending she was relaxed about this kind of thing. They were going to be married, she could be demanding if she wanted to be and right at that moment, she very much wanted to. There was nothing more she wanted than Adam.

  The phone ringing in her pocket made her jump and she almost dropped it in her haste to answer.

  ‘Miss McFadden?’ Her stomach fell in disappointment. It was a man’s voice she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Speaking,’ Suzie said as she threw her handbag on the passenger seat.

  ‘Miss McFadden, of Staple & McFadden Photography?’

  ‘Yes, can I help? Although I am no longer taking wedding bookings, but I can recommend a very good –’

  ‘Is Adam with you? Adam Staple?’

  Suzie paused. She didn’t like his tone.

  ‘I’m afraid Adam isn’t here at the moment, can I help or take a message?’

  There was a long pause, she could hear him breathing. She switched on the engine, the car immediately fogging up with condensation and she gave an involuntary shudder.

  ‘You know where he is? I need to speak to him. Urgently.’

  ‘No,’ Suzie said, turning up the heaters. ‘Can I ask what this is concerning? If it’s about a job, I can get him to call you as soon…’

  ‘This isn’t about a fucking job, love.’

  Suzie startled at the use of a swear word so early in the conversation.

  ‘This is about the money he owes.’

  ‘The money he owes?’ Suzie repeated.

  ‘I didn’t want to call the business number,’ he said. ‘But Adam’s left me no choice. I was expecting him last night but he didn’t show, so you tell him, when you see him, that if he doesn’t see me today with what he owes, there’ll be consequences.’

  Her mind couldn’t keep up with the conversation. She was about thirty seconds behind understanding what she was being told.

  ‘I’m sorry, what? Adam owes you money?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. So either you get it to me, or he gets it to me, by the end of play today.’

  She frowned at his words. The business line automatically transferred calls to her mobile if they weren’t answered at the studio but she’d never taken a call from this man before, and knew nothing of what he was talking about. Adam never mentioned owing money to someone in person, never mentioned meeting up with anyone, and besides, how could he when he was away on a location shoot?

  ‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding,’ Suzie began. ‘There must be. Adam’s away on a photo shoot, in Wales.’

  ‘So you get it to me then,’ he said. ‘Four grand. Tonight.’

  She let out a shocked laugh. Four grand! What he was suggesting was ludicrous. Nonsense. It was a prank, a joke.

  ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who you are, or what you think Adam owes you, but you’re wrong.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Is this about the props? The Christmas and winter scene backdrops? Is that where you’re calling from?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Adam cancelled that order. They were cancelled and as we didn’t receive them, we didn’t pay the invoice, so if that’s what this call is about…’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he interrupted her. ‘I’ll come to you. Pop over to the studio today, so we can have a little chat about what Adam agreed to. Then you can pay what he owes and we can go on from there.’

  ‘I don’t think…’

  ‘He’s not told you about this has he, love? No matter, I’ll explain it all later when I see you.’

  The line went dead and Suzie stared at her phone in disbelief. A car was slowly moving behind her, the man leaning out of the window, trying to get her attention. He was making exaggerated hand gestures, trying to determine if she was leaving and if he could have her parking space. She watched in her rear-view mirror and ignored him, trying to determine what had just happened. Four grand. Who could Adam possibly owe four grand to, and for what? All the props and photography expenses were paid by card, went through the business account so that they could be claimed back, could it be that he’d bought something for cash?

  It suddenly occurred to her that Adam’s safe was full of money and in his flat above the studio. That if it was a simple mistake of him being behind, of him forgetting to make deposits in the bank and repayments with things he’d ordered, then there was something she could do about that until he returned. She would take the money out of there. She would empty the safe, pay off the bank and get rid of the overdraft, but whoever had just called would have to wait.


  Whatever Adam had bought, whatever he owed, wasn’t a priority. She checked the time: it was near ten. She’d need to call Rachel, tell her she’d be late. Explain that she had to make a quick trip to Adam’s and sort out his mess. She realised that an apology meal from him at the Grosvenor wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Adam had made a royal mess of things, taking up her time like this. When he got back they’d need to have a serious chat about how their finances worked, she needed to know exactly what was going on.

  She’d have him take her on a mini-break, she thought as she put the car in gear, by way of him making it up to her, somewhere in January perhaps. Somewhere luxurious and indulgent. She’d recently seen one of the celebrities in a glossy magazine in Seville. That would do. She’d find out the details and Adam could take her there and apologise for making her feel like this.

  As she went to reverse she saw the bank statements sticking out of her bag and saliva filled her mouth as a wave of nausea washed over her.

  ‘Adam,’ she muttered as she drove out of the car park and into the busy traffic. ‘What the bloody hell have you been playing at?’

  8

  Rachel

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘Suzie? Is that you?’

  There was a moment’s silence and I used it to try and get back some control. The phone had started to ring again as I was trying, without success, to pull apart the parking ticket. I’d spent a good ten minutes crying at the sight of it, before picking it back up and starting to pick at it. I was trying to ascertain if it really was from Crewe and if it was dated yesterday when she'd called. I’d thought it was Phil and had quickly gone to answer it, hobbling over to the unit on the far wall. At that point, I wanted to ask him outright about it all. I was crying, verging on hysteria and if he’d been there to shout at I would’ve howled at him.

  I wanted to scream, to ask him what was going on and get some answers. To show him the earring, the parking ticket, the map and have him explain all my worries away with some rational reasoning. I was desperate for it not to be true. I kept seeing the Twitter message, the hit and run play out in my mind, his car, then him telling the police he wasn’t there, showing his train ticket as proof, and then there was this. A woman’s earring in his pocket, a map of hotels and a parking ticket for a car that was meant to be in Chester.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked and I nodded, knowing that if I spoke, she’d be able to hear it in my voice.

  Suzie was one of my oldest friends. In the last eighteen months since we’d gotten back in touch, we’d become close again. And now, as we’d started working with each other, she knew all parts of my life. She knew Phil. She knew the girls. She knew us. She knew me of old and there was nowhere to hide. If she heard my voice waver, if she heard the slightest falter, she’d know something was wrong and would be asking questions I couldn't answer.

  ‘How is everything?’ she asked quietly when I didn’t speak. ‘How’s your ankle? Are you in pain?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I told her wiping my eyes. ‘The painkillers are working. My ankle is fine, just a little uncomfortable and the medication is making me a bit… woozy. A bit tired, but other than that, it’s fine.’

  She waited a moment.

  ‘And everything else?’ she asked, ‘is that okay? I never got a chance to ask you at the hospital, and you didn't pick up your phone last night, but is it…? I mean, are you okay? Are you and Phil…?’

  I heard the blatant sympathy in her voice and my cheeks went hot. I gritted my teeth at the way she made her words soft in tone. I could imagine her face filled with concern at the other end of the line, I knew what she was thinking.

  ‘Did you ask him?’ she pressed. ‘About the messages on Twitter, was it him? Is he having an affair?’

  When Suzie's last relationship had ended, when it became public knowledge that Carl, her then boyfriend, had left her for another woman, I'd been the one having this conversation with her. I'd rung her up and been sympathetic. I'd pitied her, asked her if she was okay, made my voice soft and gentle. I invited her to the house for coffee at the time; it was how we got back in touch, the rekindling of our friendship. I’d been the Good Samaritan, the one who helped her.

  I was the one who was sure of my life; I was the one who could be gracious with my sympathy and kindness because my marriage was rock solid. And now I was ashamed. Ashamed and frightened of the position I was forced to be in, listening to the pity and concern in her voice now directed at me. I wasn’t certain of anything anymore and it made me afraid.

  ‘It's fine,’ I said and my voice came out stronger than I expected. ‘All fine,’ I lied.

  There was a beat.

  ‘What did he say?’ she asked. ‘Did he deny it? Did you tell him about the messages? Because believe me, Rachel, speaking from experience, if he…’

  ‘It wasn't Phil. I told you that.’ I was being harsh but I couldn't stop myself, it was the way she was including me with her sorry experience with Carl. ‘Phil would never cheat on me, it was a mix up. We can forget about those messages.’

  There was a pause. ‘Oh, well, okay then, good,’ she said. ‘I just thought, with you going there yesterday, after what we found…’

  ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ I heard myself telling her. ‘The police came over last night and Phil gave them his train ticket. He was in Crewe yesterday afternoon. Phil wasn't in Chester.’

  ‘The police?’

  Blood rushed to my face again, I was sweating.

  ‘Phil's car has been stolen,’ I gave a false laugh. ‘It was madness here yesterday, what with my broken ankle and Phil's stolen car!’

  She didn't reply straight away. ‘Oh,’ she said and then, ‘his car was stolen? In Chester?’

  ‘What does it matter where it was stolen?’ I snapped. ‘It wasn’t him. He was in Crewe yesterday afternoon. He didn’t send the messages, it’s all fine.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Well, like you said, it was probably Della.’

  ‘Must have been.’ I picked up the hotel map and ran my finger along the crease where Phil had folded it. ‘I'll have a word with her, tell her not to use my laptop again.’

  We both took a moment. Suzie was driving I realised, talking to me on hands-free, I could hear the soft whoosh of the traffic around her.

  ‘Listen,’ Suzie said. ‘I’m so sorry, I know this is shitty timing, but I'm going to be late. Adam's messed up the bank account and I need to sort a few things out, nip to the studio and then back to the bank. It's urgent or I wouldn't be going. I shouldn't be more than an hour at most, I know there's a ton of stuff to do, but do you think you might be able to make a start without me?’

  My mind was so full of Phil that it took me a moment. ‘The Gatsby party,’ I said as I caught up. ‘Of course, I can start the work from here.’

  ‘That's what I thought,’ Suzie said. ‘If you could call round the temp agencies, hire the catering staff we need then I can do the rest when I've finished with the bank.’

  ‘I'll call the marquee company, but,’ I stopped as I realised, ‘we need to measure up for that. I need to measure up in the back garden before anything else. Shit.’

  ‘I'll only be an hour or so,’ she said. ‘Perhaps two at most. I could do it this afternoon? Get the measurements then and ring round?’

  ‘That's tight,’ I said shaking my head. ‘Without the measurements we can't secure a marquee and as this is the busy season, we'll need to know if we can get one or if we have to look for something else. It's the first thing we need to do as it'll affect everything else we book.’

  We were both silent, trying to think of a way around it. The house was too small for the number of guests that had been invited to the party. Securing the marquee was the first step in the planning; if we couldn't get one we'd need to think of another solution and we couldn't do any of that if we didn't have the measurements of the garden. That would impact on how many staff we needed to hire for the night, where we could prepare the food, where the band wou
ld be playing and where the DJ would set up. It was the first task to be done and it sounded like Suzie had things of her own to sort out. This job was too short notice, there was too much to be done in the time we had.

  I looked down at my cast, my leg was throbbing and since my escapades around the bedroom searching the top of Phil's drawers, the pain had increased.

  ‘If we cancel now,’ I said, ‘would that be better than making a mess of it? If we can't get a marquee…’

  ‘We can't cancel!’ Suzie's voice was shrill. ‘Rachel, this is our big break, our first big job. I know you've broken your ankle, but I can do most of it. Please, we can do it. You said so at the hospital yesterday. It's just logistics. Just hiring people and delegating. I'll go there and measure up now. I'll call the bank and…’

  ‘Della,’ I said as the idea came to me. ‘I'll ask Della.’

  ‘Della?’ Suzie asked and I nodded as the idea took hold.

  It was perfect. If Della took me to the house then it meant we would be in the car together, alone. It would give me a chance to ask her about the laptop and Twitter messages without the threat of Phil finding out, because I realised as I’d talked to Suzie that I didn't want to speak to Phil about any of it at all. I didn't want to be there when he came home. If something was going on, if my husband was having an affair, if he was involved in the hit and run in some way, then I wanted to be certain about it before I asked him. I didn’t want to see the pity in his face as he told me, I didn’t want to hear my husband’s voice go soft as he explained he was sleeping with another woman. I didn't want to be pacified, or given some rational explanation, I wanted to discover what was going on for myself and be ready if he admitted to it.