by Sophie King
Evie helped Jack get dressed, then sat him at the table with his toast and rang Robin’s mobile again. Still nothing. Not even an automated message. She couldn’t take this – not when she still needed to prepare for her meeting with Bulmer. There was something else too. Something the girls had said just now that had rung alarm bells.
Have you checked his passport ?
But there was no need to. He wouldn’t have gone that far. He couldn’t have. She went upstairs. The girls were still in their rooms. ‘Come on, you two! And remember your games kit. It’s sports day. Look at the state of your bedrooms! I left your sports stuff out last night and now I can’t even see the carpet – let alone your clothes. And you left the phone on the floor again. Now, go downstairs and have some toast. It’s on the table getting cold.’
Quickly, she ran back into her bedroom. She shut the door behind her and opened the top drawer of the large mahogany chest of drawers she and Robin had bought when they had had money to spend in antique shops. Slowly, she took out the file marked PASSPORTS.
Hands shaking, she opened each one slowly, including the girls’. Robin had insisted on keeping them as he didn’t trust Rachel not to whisk his daughters out of the country. Natalie’s picture had been taken when she was eight and hadn’t learned to frown. Leonora smiled back at her in a way she never normally did. Jack beamed brightly. Evie looked glamorous, if she said it herself.
And Robin’s wasn’t there.
Evie drove herself to the office, the implications of her discovery reeling in her head. Face facts. Her father had taught her that as a child, and over the years she had found that some of his advice was sound.
Robin’s passport has gone. He owes money. He hasn’t rung.
Evie’s hands sweated on the steering wheel. Robin had left her. He’d left Jack, too, and his girls, in a way that was totally uncharacteristic. Unless – her chest fluttered – someone had made him do something stupid. Should she call the police?
Hoot, hoot.
Evie made an apologetic gesture to the car behind, which was pointing out vociferously that the lights had turned green. God, she needed to get back on track – and fast – before she got to the office. She took a sharp left and pulled into a side turning. She’d never been one for women friends and, until now, hadn’t needed anyone apart from Robin. But when the crunch came there was one person she could rely on for advice. ‘Dad? It’s Evie.’
‘You on that mobile again? The reception’s awful. Hang on a minute.’ She could hear him coughing in the background.
‘That’s better. How are you, love?’
‘Still got that cough?’
‘It’s nothing. Just the usual.’
‘You ought to stop smoking, Dad.’
‘Evie, it’s nine o’clock in the morning and you’re on your way to the office. You haven’t rung for a chat. What’s up?’
Evie closed her eyes and told him everything.
‘And you say this is all out of character?’ he asked, when she had finished.
‘Yes,’ said Evie, sharply. ‘If you knew him a bit better, you’d realise that.’
It was a mean shot and she knew it. Over the last four years Benjamin had tried to get over his aversion to Robin, but even Evie had to admit that any father might have had his reservations. When she’d met her future husband (at a work drinks do to which his accountancy firm had been invited), he had tweaked her normally elusive heartstrings by telling her about his adored twin daughters whom he’d been bringing up alone since Rachel, his wife, had walked out on them a year ago when they were only nine. Now she’d come back to reclaim them and, feeling that girls should be with their mother, he had agreed reluctantly provided he could see them at weekends.
But looking after the girls for a year, single-handed, had meant giving up his job (he hadn’t wanted to employ a stranger to care for them after school, after all they’d gone through). After the twins had gone back to Rachel, it had taken him months to find another and even this, he confided to Evie, after their third glass of Chablis, wasn’t particularly secure. How true that had turned out to be . . .
By the time he took her home Evie – to her surprise – was hooked. Robin hadn’t been her usual type. Usually she dated seriously career-minded men without kids. And until now, it had suited her to be unmarried: as a journalist she had interviewed celebrities across the Pond without having to consider anyone else.
Not that anyone before Robin had offered her commitment – which had confirmed Evie’s deep down belief that no one would want her. She might seem confident with her beautiful clothes and impeccable make-up but she was still plump little Jewish Evie with the home-made uniform, whose father drove a cab when all the other girls’ dads had proper cars. The one who lived in a flat instead of a house, and was teased by her classmates because she was the only one who didn’t eat pork.
It was this that had upset Benjamin. It didn’t matter to him that Robin and Evie had got married on the quiet, or that Robin was made redundant. What did matter was that he wasn’t Jewish and that Jack hadn’t been circumcised.
‘Don’t get shirty with me, young lady. Let me think. Now, just because he’s taken his passport doesn’t mean he’s done a bunk. He might have taken it for security, for validating documents.’
She hadn’t thought of that.
‘And I suppose it’s possible he might have had an accident but if he had you’d have heard something by now – or you will soon.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Just trying to cover every eventuality, Evie. If I were you I’d sit tight for a bit and wait for him to make contact. He won’t want to upset those girls of his either.’
‘I’d like to think he’s concerned about his wife too.’
‘I’m sure he is. Now, look, you concentrate on the kids – and that includes the girls. They’re tricky at that age – I should know after going through it with you. They might not be your own but they need someone to look after them even if they don’t thank you for it. In the meantime, put Robin out of your mind and go to the office. Give it everything you’ve got – you can only focus on one thing at a time. Afterwards, give me another ring or come round and we’ll work out what to do if you still haven’t heard from him.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘That’s OK. If you’re coming this way, bring me some more fags, will you? I’m running out.’
‘Dad, you’ve got to give up. It’ll kill you one day. Remember what Mum used to say.’
‘Your mother would have a great deal more to say if she was around now. I know you think I keep going on about it, Evie, but it would break your poor mother’s heart if she knew you’d married outside.’
Evie had to clench her fingernails into her palms to stop herself screaming. ‘Give it a break, Dad. I can’t be doing with that stuff now. See you later.’
She drove on, glancing at all the other drivers and passers-by in case one was Robin. He had to be out there. Somewhere.
Half an hour later, when she walked into her office, she knew immediately that something was up. The Australian receptionist gave her a reserved smile instead of her usual cheery hello and a couple of people who would normally have stopped to chat, scuttled past her.
‘Ah, Evie, there you are. Rich has flown in from the States earlier than we’d thought and we’re bringing forward tomorrow’s meeting to today. That all right with you?’
It was a trick, thought Evie, willing her face to remain calm and composed. Bulmer had done this on purpose to catch her out, hoping she’d be unprepared. Well, he was wrong: she had already done her homework like the good schoolgirl she had always been. Her ideas were right there, in her slim black leather briefcase.
‘That’s fine, Gareth.’ She enjoyed the discomfiture on his face. ‘When do you want to start?’
‘Now, if that’s all right with you – unless you want to freshen up first?’
Evie needed the loo, but if Bulmer wanted to speak now, she’d give him now. ‘
In your office?’
‘No. Rich is waiting in the boardroom along with the rest of the board.’
The board? Evie frowned. What were they doing at an editorial meeting? More alarm bells rang as she followed Bulmer down the corridor past another secretary, who failed to meet her eye. Her chest fluttered with apprehension.
Rich, the small squat American who owned the company, stood up and shook her hand. ‘Good to see you again, Evie. Please, take a seat.’ Numbly, she did as he said, unzipped her briefcase and placed a neat folder of ideas in front of her. Around the table were faces Evie saw once or twice a year on formal occasions. Most were money men and women; a couple were former editors of other publications who had been brought in for their expertise.
Evie braced herself. ‘Bulmer – I mean, Gareth asked me to draw up a plan to restructure the magazine,’ she began.
Rich leaned forward. He was wearing a brace on his teeth. ‘I’m afraid we won’t be needing those, Evie.’
She glared back. ‘Why not?’
‘There’s no easy way to say this, Evie, but we’ve decided to let you go.’
‘Why?’ she repeated. ‘You can’t just do that! I’ve built up this magazine. I’ve increased the circulation by ten per cent.’
‘But it’s not enough, is it, Evie?’
Rich leaned forward, his brace twinkling. ‘We need more. We need an editor who is on the same level as our readers. Someone younger, more in touch.’
They were replacing her with Janine!
‘Your deputy is the natural successor. Let’s just say that her age and her maternal instincts are perfectly in step with our readers’ profile and she has offered to shorten her maternity leave so she can maximise this opportunity. I’m sorry, Evie, you’ll have the usual severance package, but I’d like you to clear your desk by four p.m. HR is aware of the situation and will be in touch. Oh, and remember to hand in the car keys by Friday, at the latest, won’t you?’
Evie walked back to her office. One of the secretaries shot her a sympathetic look. They had all known before her. That was the way things worked in this place. You gave it your life and they took it away without a second’s thought. She’d seen other women like her who had given their all to a magazine only to be dismissed at a managing editor’s whim. Until this year, she had thought she was immune but now she knew better.
She also knew something else. For the first time, she understood exactly how Robin must have felt when he lost his job.
It couldn’t have helped that she, Evie, had such an amazing job. Well, it was gone now. She was in the same boat as him, except that she was here and he wasn’t.
Swiftly, she cleared her desk, sweeping the contents into the bags her secretary silently handed her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ whispered the girl.
Evie nodded. ‘Thanks.’ Out. Just walk out now, head high, towards the car park. Shaking, she got into the Discovery. She needed to breathe properly and work it out. She’d lost her job, but she’d got a fairly decent handshake so she’d make do for a bit. But Robin was still gone. What had Dad said? Sit tight and wait – but, in the meantime, look after those children.
Evie turned on the engine. Last year she had missed sports day because of a meeting. And the year before. If she didn’t have a job now, she could at least be a decent step-mother and get there on time today. After that, well, she’d ring her father. He’d think of something. She’d always thought of herself as independent, but at times like this everyone needed someone.
24
NICK
‘One fifth of teenagers between sixteen and eighteen now have a sexually transmitted disease, according to a new report out today . . .’
‘Third gear, not fifth – I said third!’
‘You’re making me nervous, Dad, stop it.’
‘I can’t afford another gearbox, Julie. You’re ruining it.’
‘Well, if you let me practise more, it would be all right.’
She had been like this since she had got up this morning.
To be fair, he’d been tetchy too. They always were on anniversaries, birthdays and at Christmas. Nothing was the same without Juliana. Two years tomorrow. Was that possible? Sometimes it seemed like ten, at others, like last week.
Lately, Amber had suggested counselling for Julie – just as school had done – but she wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’m not talking to a stranger, Dad. Anyway, I’ve got my friends.’
Nick only wished they didn’t include the spotty Jason, who refused to meet his eyes. He’d been there every day this week when he’d dropped off Julie, waiting to scoop her up. He made Nick’s skin crawl. How far had they gone? How far would Julie let him go? He had tried to discuss safe sex but every time he broached the subject she said, ‘Stop it, Dad. I know about that kind of thing.’
He only hoped she knew more about the pill and condoms than she did about the Highway Code. ‘No, move into the inside lane. That’s better. Now check your mirror. Good.’
If he’d hoped to restore the peace, he had failed. Julie’s beautiful face was scowling, her lip curled in precisely the same way that her mother’s had.
Silence. Unbearable silence. It was worse than the arguments.
‘What have you got on at school today?’ asked Nick, aware that it was a desperate question from a parent who needed to make a gesture of peace.
‘Nothing much.’ Julie’s eyes were fixed firmly ahead. ‘English and geography in the morning. Helping out with sports day in the afternoon.’
‘Sports day!’ Grateful for something he could relate to, Nick pressed on: ‘Don’t you do it yourself?’
Julie gave him a withering look. ‘Dad, I’m too old! I help the younger ones – it’s part of my Sports Leaders’ Certificate. I told you.’
Of course. Too old for sports day. Too old to tell him how she was really feeling, two years after her mother’s death. And too young for a serious boyfriend – at least, in his view. Nick’s heart lurched. He’d give anything to go back to the days when he and Juliana had gone together to Julie’s sports day. They’d hold hands at the side of the track. She’d lean her head on his shoulder and he’d kiss her neck. Once they almost missed Julie cross the finishing line. Julie, with her plaits and the smile that said nothing would ever go wrong in her life.
Nick rubbed his eyes. He had to go forward and blank out memories like that or he’d go mad.
‘They might need some more dads for the fathers’ race, if you’re up to it.’ Now her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Maybe I’m forgiven, thought Nick. ‘But if you’re too old to take part, then surely I’m too old to run,’ he said.
‘Nope. There aren’t enough dads around today, according to Mrs Hedges. They’ve all buggered off so we could do with a few more runners.’
Nick hated hearing her swear but decided to ignore it in case she gave him the cold treatment again.
‘What are you doing today, then, Dad?’
He groaned. ‘Editing the images from a catalogue shoot and taking them to the client.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘If you knew the client, you’d know that was enough,’ said Nick lightly. Why was she always so suspicious? Amber had said it was natural insecurity after a bereavement, but when he’d asked how to deal with it, she had merely said it would take time.
‘Cool car,’ said Julie, as they pulled up alongside a yellow Beetle. ‘I’d like one like that when I’ve passed my test.’
‘We’ll see.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Aren’t you going to find a proper parking space instead of holding up the entire road?’
‘I’ll hop out here.’ Julie turned off the engine, oblivious to the hooting from the parallel car, which clearly didn’t relish the prospect of being sandwiched in. ‘I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m going out.’
‘I forgot.’ Nick’s stomach churned. ‘Who are you going with?’
‘Friends. Someone’s birthday party. Stop fussing, Dad. I’ll call you.’
So it was all right for her but not for him. The car they were blocking in hooted again. This was no place for an argument. Julie had timed it well.
‘See you, Dad,’ she said, and leaped out.
‘Hang on!’ Nick had leaned out of the window to yell after her, but Julie was already in a crowd of kids. And next to her, his arm slung casually around her shoulders, was Jason.
Just as he was about to move off, she turned round and mouthed something. He wound down the window. ‘What?’
‘Don’t forget sports day. You know. The fathers’ race.’
She laughed and Jason was laughing too. Bloody cheek.
‘You’re on,’ muttered Nick. Amber had said it was important to maintain communication with Julie at all cost. Besides, he hadn’t liked the way that boy had laughed. Fathers’ race? No sweat. He’d show him.
MARTINE
‘One fifth of teenagers between sixteen and eighteen now have a sexually transmitted disease . . .’
‘D-d-do you know what that is, Marty? S-s-sexually transmitted? Shall I look it up in the d-d-dictionary for you?’ Josh erupted into loud giggles, rolling around on the back seat with Alice.
Martine frowned into the rear-view mirror and noticed, as she did so, that the mother with the pram whom she’d seen earlier in the week was crossing the road. She strained to get a better view but the woman disappeared. ‘Stop immediately. I will inform your mother.’
‘Inform!’ Josh snorted with mirth. ‘I shall inf-f-form your mother. And I will inform her of your b-b-boyfriend.’
Martine almost stalled the car. ‘My boyfriend?’
‘Yes!’ Alice joined in. ‘We know who he is, Marty. We’ve looked at your phone.’
Martine’s hands shook on the steering wheel. ‘You had no right. You are bad children. You should respect my piratecy.’
‘D-don’t you mean p-privacy? Or shall we look that up in the d-d-dictionary too. Alice, get it out.’