Captor

by Anita Waller

  She laughed. ‘Two coffees it is, then.’

  She heard him return the laughter as he put down the phone.

  She found the instruction manual for the coffee machine hidden behind it, so she worked out how to use it, then carried the drinks through to her employers.

  ‘Waitress service,’ she said as she entered Tom’s room. He lifted his head, watching her. His ginger hair fell forward across his forehead, and he brushed it back, almost without realising he was doing it. ‘About damn time. Promise me you won’t have another baby.’

  ‘Depends who’s offering to be the daddy,’ she responded. ‘Tom Hardy, Rob Lowe, Benedict whatever his name is… I could be persuaded.’

  He laughed. ‘Erm… before we get Oliver in here, there’s something you should know, so that you don’t inadvertently put your foot in it. Oliver and Julia have split up. I don’t know all the details, don’t know why, just that the divorce is in the offing. He’s not talked much about it… not to me, anyway. I don’t know whether he’ll tell you or not, but you needed to know. It doesn’t affect anything here, Julia’s always distanced herself from the business.’

  Liz’s face showed her shock. She’d known Julia since school days, and had recognised her the first day she had started to work at Banton and Hardwick, in the photograph that always stood on Oliver’s desk. Oliver had confirmed that his wife was called Julia Froggatt in an earlier life, and he had passed on Liz’s best wishes to Julia that same evening. They had met up many times since, sharing a coffee and, in Julia’s case, marital woes.

  Liz nodded at Tom. ‘Okay, message understood.’ She thought back to their last phone conversation when she had, somewhat abruptly, told Julia to either put up with Oliver’s control issues, or walk away. She had obviously walked away, and Liz prayed that Oliver didn’t know of her part in the marital split. She made a mental note to ring Julia – they hadn’t been in touch for at least four or five months.

  Tom leaned forward to press his intercom. ‘Oliver, we have coffee made by a fair maid. You coming in here, or shall I send the wench into you?’

  ‘Ten seconds.’

  Oliver Hardwick was a handsome man, fairly small in stature at 5’6” and of slim build, but with an imposing presence; always quiet and ultra-professional within the office environment. He and Tom were almost the same age, with birthdays three days apart. At forty-three, Oliver looked slightly the younger of the two men. She remembered the feeling of amusement that all the significant men in her life, Gareth, Phil, Tom and Oliver, had been born within six months of each other, and all in the same year. A good year for the supply of handsome men.

  Oliver’s deep brown eyes searched out Liz as he walked through the connecting door and stepped inside Tom’s office. He picked up the mug of coffee, walked around the desk towards Liz and said, ‘You’re early.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek – she could smell the Creed that surrounded him – and smiled. He truly was quite delicious. She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts.

  ‘I know. As you’ve both mentioned it, is that going to be a problem? You see, I think it’s better than being late.’

  The two men turned to each other, and spoke at the same time. ‘She’s back.’

  2

  Liz opened all the cards and stood them on her window sill, deciding not to take them home but to keep them at work on display for a week, before putting them away. Three were from people she didn’t know, and she felt a pang as she realised how much she had missed during her nine months absence.

  She sorted out her desk. It soon became clear, in anticipation of her return, Tom and Oliver had been filling her drawer with files requiring her attention.

  She took them out to prioritise. All seven cases were new to her, and she spent the best part of her first day back reading through paperwork. She fired emails off as and when they were required, and she stayed at her desk through her lunch break, grateful for the sandwich Karen brought in.

  She only rang Sadie twice. The first time was to discover Jake was happy, playing with his toys and crawling everywhere, and the second time she was told he was asleep, worn out by the excitement of the morning.

  She felt momentarily disgruntled. He could, at least, have made a pretence of missing her, playing up, and testing his childminder. Did he have to be at his most pleasant best?

  She was surprised to see that it was almost five, and she closed her computer and locked away the paper files. She was saying good night to Karen when she heard her phone ringing in the distance.

  ‘You didn’t put that through to me?’ she asked. ‘Stupid question, wasn’t it? I’m standing here.’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. It’ll be an internal call. Go home, Mrs Chambers. Whoever it was, they’ll try again tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Karen, good night.’

  Liz had forgotten how steep the climb back up to the tram stop was, and she sank gratefully into a seat for the long journey home. She exited the tram one stop further than her home one, walked across the road and up a hill to collect Jake.

  Sadie smiled as she let Liz into her home.

  ‘He’s been absolutely fine, and he’s all ready to go.’ She picked him up from the play pen, and fastened him into his pushchair.

  ‘Yours now,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Two stinky nappy changes, today, so you’re welcome to the little monkey. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Sadie. You’ve made this return to work really easy for me, but I’m glad I’m only doing three days a week until Jake’s in school.’

  Sadie helped Liz lift the pushchair out of the door, and Liz felt once more at peace. Jake was back with her, and all was right again in her world. So far, she hadn’t been able to fault Sadie. On the days that she cared for Jake, she didn’t have other children, and Liz appreciated this fact. It meant that Jake benefited from one-to-one care all the time.

  Liz laughed as Sadie pushed back her purple hair. ‘What colour will it be next week?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fancying bright red,’ Sadie answered, ‘but we’ll see, we’ll see.’

  Liz walked down the hill, and reached her own front door five minutes later. She unlocked it and instantly heard Daniel’s music playing in his bedroom.

  ‘I’m home,’ she called, and she heard a muffled ‘hi, Mum’ as she bent over to release the pushchair straps holding Jake prisoner.

  Gareth followed her half an hour later. She was sitting on the sofa, Jake bathed, dressed in his sleepsuit and sleeping with his head on her shoulder.

  ‘I wanted five minutes,’ she said. ‘I’ll take him up now.’

  Gareth leaned across and kissed his son on his head, bypassing his wife.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘It’s been fine. Give me a couple of minutes to put him in his cot, and we’ll talk.’

  Gareth walked into the kitchen to see Daniel taking a lasagne out of the oven. ‘Smells delicious, Dan.’ Gareth ruffled his son’s hair as he went past.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘With chips?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s salad. Mum’s banned chips.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your fault, Dad. She says you’re putting on far too much weight, so we’re all having to suffer.’

  Gareth’s face spoke of misery. ‘Has she included wine in this ban, or can I have a glass?’

  ‘“When you’ve lost a stone” were her precise words.’

  ‘Water it is then.’ The misery had extended to his voice.

  He set the table, and Liz joined them a couple of minutes later.

  ‘Son number two asleep. Let’s hope he stays that way.’

  She sat down, and waited for Gareth and Dan to join her.

  ‘Looks lovely, Dan.’

  Dan placed the lasagne in the centre of the table and took out the salad bowl from the fridge. He added a dish of coleslaw, a jug of lemon water, and they all sat down. ‘Vin de citron,’ he announced, and his father gla
red at him.

  ‘Not even vaguely funny, Dan.’

  ‘Dad, eat your salad.’

  Liz and Dan looked at each other and tried to hide the laughter.

  ‘The quicker you lose that stone, the better,’ Dan said, finally giving in and grinning at his dad.

  ‘But it’s winter. Nobody eats salad in winter.’

  ‘You are,’ Liz said.

  ‘You’re cruel,’ Gareth grumbled, heaping another pile of coleslaw onto his salad to try and give it some taste. ‘What’s wrong with meat and potato pie?’

  ‘Nothing. You want that tomorrow?’ Dan asked. ‘We’ve got enough meat in the freezer.’

  Dan had taken on the role of head chef in the household. He intended going to catering college after leaving school, and Gareth and Liz were only too happy to let him feed them; he had taken over the day-to-day shopping in the early weeks following Jake’s birth – and the cooking, much to their delight.

  ‘So,’ Gareth said to his wife, ‘how was today?’

  ‘Yes, good,’ she said. ‘There’s at least three new employees I don’t know yet, I’ve had lots of welcome back cards, and Tom and Oliver bought me a huge bouquet of roses. And a coffee machine. They also filled up my drawer with files all requiring urgent attention.’

  ‘And did they get urgent attention?’

  ‘Of course. All filed back into their proper places, I’ve emailed Tom and Oliver and told them what I’ve done, and I’ll bet my drawer has another half a dozen tomorrow. I think they’ve missed me. They’ve asked me not to have any more babies,’ she added with a smile.

  ‘I echo that,’ Gareth said drily. Liz said nothing; over the past three or four years there had been a gulf between them, one that seemed to be permanent since Jake’s birth. Deep down, she knew she was keeping the family together for the stability this offered to Dan at a crucial exam-ridden stage of his life.

  They finished off their meal with fat-free yoghurts poured over banana slices as a concession to the new regime imposed on Gareth, and Dan switched on the coffee machine while he loaded the dishwasher.

  ‘It’s good to have a slave, isn’t it?’ Gareth remarked thoughtfully, and Liz nodded in agreement.

  Dan shook his head, and switched on the dishwasher. ‘I am not,’ he said slowly and carefully, ‘emptying it. Do it before you go to bed, please. Right, I’m done. Coffee’s ready whenever you want it, and I’m going up on the computer. Behave yourselves, no arguing, and no more babies.’

  Gareth and Liz burst out laughing.

  ‘Thank you, sweetheart. The meal was delicious, and I’ll do breakfast,’ Liz said with a smile.

  ‘Mom. We eat cornflakes.’

  ‘I’ll get the box out. And the dishes.’

  He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen. Parents, he thought. Why do we have to have them?

  He switched on his computer, checked all three screens were functioning as per his instructions, and settled down to work on the game he was creating.

  3

  Dropping Jake off had seemed a little easier. Day two, and already the routine was starting to become… routine. Even the tram journey hadn’t been quite so stressful, the first day nerves had disappeared, and she allowed her mind to roam through some of the issues raised by the files she had worked on the previous day.

  She took coffees through to Tom and Oliver, then nursed her own cup as she pulled out the file that was troubling her. She was on her second read through when her desk phone rang.

  ‘Mrs Chambers? It’s Kelly from accounts.’

  ‘Hello, Kelly from Accounts. What can I help you with?’

  ‘First, welcome back. I rang last night, but you must have gone home. We’ve got an issue that we’ve never had before. Somebody hasn’t cashed a cheque.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s one of your cases.’

  ‘We sent a cheque to somebody? Why didn’t we do a bank transfer?’

  ‘They asked for a cheque.’

  ‘Okay.’ She hesitated. ‘Is it Mr Banton’s case, or Mr Hardwick’s?’

  ‘Yours.’

  ‘But I haven’t been at work for nearly ten months.’

  ‘I know. It’s the Latimer case.’

  The air stilled around her. The Latimer case. Three little words. She shook her head, mentally clearing her thoughts but not clearing the flush that stained her cheeks pink.

  ‘But that’s closed. They won, we waited ages for the pay-out, and we paid them before I went on my mat leave.’ Liz felt sick.

  ‘Exactly. And they haven’t cashed the cheque. I’m proposing we cancel it, because it’s obviously gone astray. I’m a bit puzzled why they haven’t rung us asking for payment. Will you sort it, please?’

  Liz pulled a notepad towards her. It was for show only. She remembered the case with a deep clarity. ‘Give me the details.’

  ‘Cheque payable to Philip and Rosemary Latimer, dated 1 May 2015, amount £98,923. Our file number 0112/238LAT.’

  She scribbled it down, covering for any future queries, and then thanked Kelly, saying she would get back to her, but to cancel the cheque because it was out of date.

  Liz stared at the hastily jotted down notes, then moved across to her filing cabinet. She knelt and slowly pulled open the bottom drawer. A few more days in work and most of the old files in this drawer would have been archived.

  She removed the Latimer file, closed the drawer, and for a few moments remained kneeling.

  Her thoughts slammed back to that day in court when Rosie couldn’t attend because of a hospital appointment for Melissa. Phil had been there, and after the court part was over, he had asked her to go for a coffee with him. She, quite simply, had fallen in love. He, quite simply, had also fallen in love. Right time, right moment, right love. They hadn’t asked for it, they hadn’t searched for it, it simply happened.

  The double buzz on her desk brought her mind back, and she stood. One buzz for Tom, two for Oliver. She picked up her phone.

  ‘Liz, do you have the Marlow file?’

  ‘No, but I can get it. I can’t believe it’s still ongoing.’

  ‘Then you’ll be delighted to hear it’s ending. I want to check some disbursements before finishing off the final invoice.’

  ‘Give me two minutes.’

  She put down the phone and moved into the small room attached to her office where long-term files that required multiple folders were stored. She found the file, carried it through to her office, then on to Oliver’s office, after checking that everything seemed to be in it.

  He smiled at her. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘It’s fine. Stop worrying about me. I can cope with being away from Jake for a couple of days.’

  ‘Three days. Every week. Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Today is only Wednesday and it’s your first week. Are you sure you’re fine?’

  ‘I’m good.’

  ‘Whatever you say. So… Latimer.’

  She jumped at the mention of the name.

  ‘Accounts say they haven’t cashed the cheque. You chasing it up?’

  ‘I am. It seems strange. Nearly £100,000 and they don’t want it? I’ll see what I can do. I’ve asked Kelly to cancel the original cheque and issue a second one, so at least it will be in date. I’ll send it off tonight, recorded delivery.’

  ‘Would it be better to hand deliver it? Then we would know it had got to them.’

  No! she screamed silently.

  ‘Yes,’ Oliver said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe that would be the best idea. Take a taxi, go about two-ish, then go straight home afterwards. Do it either today or tomorrow, your call. Pick Jake up a bit early. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?’ His look as he turned his face towards her was intense.

  She nodded. ‘Okay. Anything else you need?’

  ‘No, that’s it, thanks.’

  She went back into her own office and sat down with a thud.

  She was being forced to see him again. This man she had spent eighteen
months trying to wipe from her memory was possibly going to be at home with Rosie, when she called to give them the new cheque.

  Had this been his intention all along? Was this why the cheque hadn’t been cashed? Had he realised that eventually she would have to contact them? And was he still with Rosie and Melissa?

  The questions raced around in her brain until finally Liz picked up her phone and asked Kelly to make sure the cheque was ready for the following day, as she would be taking it. On Oliver’s direct instructions.

  She picked up her handbag, unzipped the deep pocket on the lining, and took out the small Nokia that she hadn’t used for eighteen long months. She sat and stared at it for several minutes, then texted.

  Bringing new cheque to your house tomorrow. 2.30. Please don’t be there. I had a son, Jake.

  She was putting the phone back into the pocket when she heard it ping. For a second she froze. She had deliberately phrased the text so that no questions were asked, and therefore she wouldn’t need a reply.

  She took the phone back out and looked at the screen.

  Okay. I love you.

  It was as ambiguous as it was possible to be. Okay. What did that mean? Okay, come to my house. Okay, bring a new cheque. Okay, 2.30 is okay. Okay, I won’t be there. Okay, we have a son. She knew what ‘I love you’ meant.

  Once again, she put the phone away, her hands trembling. Roll on the weekend when all this would be out of the way, Phil and Rosie would be £98,000 better off, and she could get back to the life she had chosen.

  Unwillingly.

  She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. Ignore that word. She hadn’t taken that decision unwillingly. Gareth and Dan came first, her needs and desires second.

  Desire.

  This time she banged her fist down on to the desk and moaned. She had to stop thinking. Had to stop coming up with stupid words that were turning her into somebody she didn’t recognise.

  Phil Latimer was in the past, and that was where he would stay, whether he was at his home or not. Her mind drifted towards his angular face, the greying hair, his smile, the deep blue eyes that could curl her toes when he turned them on her…