Shadow of Doubt

by S L Beaumont

  “Both Jimmy and Dave got lucky,” she added with a wicked grin, between morsels from our shared platter.

  “Really? Details?” I grinned. Those two boys were incorrigible and quite a force to be reckoned with at the best of times.

  “Well, they hooked up with a couple of girls who work on the swaps desk who share a flat and the last I saw, they were all piling into a cab together,” Marie said.

  “Those poor girls. Didn’t anyone warn them?” I asked.

  “Oh I think the boys may have met their match,” she replied, tapping a text into her phone as she spoke.

  Her phone pinged a few seconds later. She read the message and shrieked with laughter. She passed it to me.

  ‘I don’t think I will ever be able to walk again. Jim’

  I smiled.

  “Will looked like he was doing well too. Actually, it was nice to see him with someone,” Marie said. “I was beginning to wonder if he was asexual.”

  I suddenly found the food in my mouth hard to swallow. I grabbed a quick mouthful of water and forced it down.

  “Who?” I asked. The room had begun to tilt. I felt as if I’d been thrown off balance.

  “You know your friend Frankie, from the New York office?” Marie answered. I nodded. “Her,” Marie said.

  “What were they doing?” I asked feeling like I was staring into the headlights of an oncoming car with no chance of getting out of the way.

  “Dirty dancing, the last I saw. I left before him, so I don’t know how it ended,” she added, oblivious to my discomfort. “We should text him–you must have his number. Frankie would eat a guy like Will for breakfast.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, head down, fishing around in my bag to hide the tears that were pooling in my eyes.

  I pulled out my phone and Marie frowned. “You okay, Jess? You’ve gone a funny color.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, jumping up from the table and running to the bathroom. I lost the contents of my stomach and stood leaning against the cubicle door shaking, with tears rolling down my cheeks. There was a gentle knock against the door a minute or so later.

  “Jess, are you alright?” Marie called.

  “Yeah, I’ll be out shortly,” I said, trying to pull myself together. I splashed water on my face and squeezed my hands into fists and forced myself to stop crying. Bastard.

  I sat back down at the table a few minutes later. Our plates had been cleared away and Marie was paying the bill. She looked concerned.

  “Sorry, something didn’t agree with me,” I mumbled as my phone chimed again with a message that broke my already bruised heart.

  ‘OMG Jess, I met Will last night. Call me! Frankie’

  I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

  “Oh poor you,” Marie said misinterpreting my reaction, concerned that I would hurl again. “Do you want to go home?”

  I nodded and we gathered our things and headed out onto the street to hail a black cab. I apologized again, but Marie brushed it off telling me to go home and rest.

  I pulled out my phone and sent Will a text from the cab.

  ‘Do you have something to tell me?’

  He replied straightaway.

  ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘What do I think?’

  ‘Can you come over?’

  ‘Are you sure you’re alone?’

  My phone rang. It was Will.

  “Jess…” he began.

  “Don’t ‘Jess’ me. Frankie? Really?” I replied, unable to keep the hurt from my voice.

  “Let’s not do this over the phone. Come over, please,” he said.

  I sighed and leaned forward giving the driver the change of address. I rooted around in my bag for breath mints and spent the rest of the journey fixing my makeup.

  Will buzzed me in the front door of his building and was standing holding the door to his flat open by the time I’d climbed the stairs to his floor. He ushered me along the hallway and into the lounge. He had the sense not to hug or kiss me and sat down on the sofa beside me with a wary expression on his face.

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but nothing happened,” he began, staring at his hands. He was unshaven and his hair was flat on one side, sticking up on the other. He looked like he’d just crawled out of bed and pulled some random clothes on. Not his usual well put together self.

  “Except for a major public display on the dance floor,” I spat back.

  “Yes, but that was all.” He lifted his head and his eyes roamed my face. “What’s happened to your cheek?”

  “Nothing.”

  Will’s expression turned stony. “Don’t tell me that he hit you? I’ll kill him.”

  I shook my head letting my hair fall over the bruise on the side of my face. “I’ve been crying. My face goes blotchy.”

  “Jess, I’m sorry.”

  I looked away. The thought of him with someone else was like a dagger to my heart, and even worse the thought of him and Frankie, who was a gorgeous Italian-American New Yorker, with lustrous dark locks and sultry come-to-bed eyes. When Frankie set her sights on someone, he didn’t stand a chance and now she had Will in her cross-hairs. I was the country cousin to her city chic. There was no way that I could compete.

  I looked back at Will. How could he? Not when he knew how I felt about him and how he felt about me. That thought ground my pity party to an immediate stop. I didn’t know how he felt about me, not really, apart from the obvious attraction. And I hadn’t admitted the depth of my feelings for him, to myself even. It seemed wrong to do so when I was married to someone else. We had carefully avoided all discussion on the subject and the ‘L’ word had certainly never been uttered by either of us.

  Oh, shit. I realized there and then that I had absolutely no right to be reacting to this the way I was, as the wounded party. I had no claim to him. I was still married to Colin. This was just an affair. He was single and could date who he liked.

  I stared at him and nodded.

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks for telling me. I have to go.”

  I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door before he had a chance to react. I heard him call my name, but I ran down the stairs and out of his building without pausing to answer.

  I spent the rest of the day mulling over what to do. I ignored all of Will’s texts and calls. After a long walk through Hyde Park, I checked into a little spa just off the King’s Road near the flat and had a massage. It had been a hell of a weekend, first Colin, then Will. As I lay being pampered, I came to a decision. It was right that things had ended with Will. I had fallen into his arms following Dad’s death and maybe my need for comfort and his desire to provide it had gotten all mixed up. What I really needed to do was sort out what I was doing with Colin. This kind of deceit wasn’t me. I was clearly in much deeper with Will than I had realized. I needed to end things with Colin if Will and I were to have any future. Although I was not certain that was an option any longer. Colin hitting me had also strengthened my resolve. I was done. I was leaving him.

  I arrived home to find the flat resembling a florist’s shop; every available surface seemed to contain a vase or basket of flowers, and the floral scent was overpowering.

  “Jess, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve been so anxious about this contract, that I wasn’t thinking straight,” Colin said, meeting me at the door and taking my coat.

  I looked around the lounge at the bouquets. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Colin, I don’t think we’re working anymore,” I began.

  “Don’t say that, I will make it up to you, I promise. Starting now.” He took my hand and led me into the kitchen where the tiny table was set for two with candles, red roses and wine. “I’ve made dinner,” he said.

  Stunned, I sat down as he held out a chair for me.

  He sat down opposite and took my hand. “Can you forgive me? I know I’ve been distracted and neglecting you lately. I’ve just been so busy expand
ing the business, setting up our future,” he said. “I love you; I never meant to hurt you.”

  Chapter 19

  January 12

  Colin’s mobile buzzed just after 9am, waking me from a deep sleep.

  “What?” He sat up in bed taking most of the duvet with him, leaving me shivering from the sudden hit of cool morning air. Phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear, he leapt out of bed and grabbed the jeans he’d discarded on a chair in the corner of the room the previous evening and pulled them on. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He disconnected the call and threw the phone on the bed, rummaging under it to find shoes. He stood and pulled the t-shirt that he’d slept in over his head and dumped it on the floor. As he turned and opened his chest of drawers, I sat up and watched him.

  “What’s going on?”

  He pulled a clean shirt over his head and down over his torso, giving me a glimpse of the shrapnel scars that ran down his left shoulder and side. Even though I’d seen them hundreds of times, they still gave me cause to pause. A hunting accident as a teenager had nearly cost him his life.

  “There’s been an explosion at a building site near Canary Wharf,” he said. I must have looked blank. “I have men working on that job. I want to check that no one has been injured,” he continued.

  “But isn’t it Sunday? No one will be working,” I asked.

  “Yes, but I need to make sure.”

  “God, Col, it’s not another terrorist attack?” I asked sitting up. My mind took me straight back to that dreadful evening on Cheapside with the chaos and horrific injuries I’d witnessed.

  “No,” he said. “Something in a shed at the site caught fire, that’s all.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “The police and fire appliances found the burning remains of a van. It was probably an LPG cylinder or something. But it made a loud noise and with everyone being jumpy, y’know, I need to be seen to check it out.” He finished dressing and pushed his wallet and phone into his pocket. “I’ll be back later.”

  I lay back down, as the previous day’s conversation with Will came flooding back, followed by the strange evening with Colin acting like he used to when we were first together. A dull pain formed in my chest and a few tears slipped from my eyes. Annoyed at myself, I wiped them away.

  “Come on, Jessica, you’re awake now. Might as well get your lazy butt out of bed and stop wallowing,” I told myself as I forced my legs over the side. “You’ve got some decisions to make.”

  After a shower, I started sorting through my belongings and before long I had set aside those that I would take with me when I left and those, including the red dress, that were going straight to the nearest charity shop.

  ***

  I stepped into a lift at work on Friday afternoon, to find Will following the bank’s dress-down Friday policy, wearing snug black jeans and my favorite blue button-down shirt, leaning against the back rail, chatting to a short, bespectacled guy whom I didn’t recognize.

  “Hi, Jess,” Will said, flashing me a wary smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Hey, Will,” I replied. I had the presence of mind to press the button for the next floor, so that I wouldn’t have to be in the lift with him any longer than necessary, even though I was actually going up five floors.

  I stood with my back to him as his companion continued talking. Will said nothing, but I could feel his eyes boring into my back. The lift car jerked to a stop and the doors opened. I jumped out relieved, only to hear Will say goodbye to his colleague and step out after me. I hesitated, wondering if I could bluff it. I wasn’t even sure what was on this floor. Will, of course, knew what I was doing.

  “Since when did you work with the private bankers?” He indicated with a nod of his head towards the plaque on the wall, which listed the business units on this level. He smirked.

  “Since I had to evacuate the lift quickly to avoid someone.” I decided that honesty was the best policy. I leaned over and pressed the up arrow, calling the lift back.

  “Ouch,” he said, feigning injury. “Don’t sugar coat it, Jess.”

  I shrugged. “You got me.”

  The lift arrived and we both got in.

  “How have you been?” he asked as we began to ride up. “Will you be at The Tower tonight?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The lift arrived at my floor. I stepped out straightaway and hurried to my desk, where I sat with my head in my hands, breathing deeply to regain my composure.

  God, I missed him.

  ***

  On Monday, an email arrived in my inbox from Dave inviting me for drinks on Friday at a nearby Mexican restaurant to celebrate his birthday. I checked the email list and saw Will’s name. I hit reply and was typing my excuse when Dave leaned over the wall of my cubicle.

  “I am not taking no for an answer, Jess. We haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks. What’s up?” he asked.

  “I was just replying to say I’d love to come,” I said, smiling at him.

  “Good. I will pick you up here at seven,” he said, wandering off again, my nice new red pen tucked in his back pocket.

  I sighed. Well, everyone would be there. I couldn’t keep avoiding my friends because of Will.

  Chapter 20

  January 23

  Colin was preparing to leave for the airport to fly to New York for a week, on Thursday evening. He mentioned something about expanding further into the US market, but as usual the details he provided me with were sketchy. I no longer cared. The timing couldn’t have been better for me. I was going to move out while he was away, coward that I was. I curled up on the sofa in the lounge to read, when my mobile rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Jessica, it’s Dr. Sorrenson,” the warm, friendly voice said.

  “Hi, Dr. Sorrenson, how are you?” I immediately sat up.

  “Good thanks. I thought you’d like to know that I finally met with the doctor who attended your father,” he said.

  “What did he say?”

  “There was nothing to suggest that it wasn’t simply a massive heart attack. He wouldn’t have suffered, Jess,” he said. “He did say there was one thing that was unusual, your father’s eyes had broken capillaries, petechial hemorrhaging, consistent with asphyxia but there was no evidence of strangulation. He remembers that your father’s secretary was rambling about the two men whom he’d met with earlier in the day, but everyone assumed that she was in shock. You may want to talk with her.”

  “Okay. I will. Thanks,” I replied.

  “Just don’t go looking for answers that aren’t there, Jess. Sometimes in life these things just happen,” he advised.

  “I know. Thanks for your help.”

  I stared at the phone for a long time after I disconnected the call. Was I looking for something that wasn’t there? Dad clearly thought he had found something or he wouldn’t have gone to the elaborate ruse of leaving me the safety deposit box. I tried to think back to the last time that Dad had been in London, about a fortnight before he died. He, Colin and I had dinner at the restaurant in the Oxo Tower. Colin had been in one of his moods and had gotten worse during dinner. Actually, now that I recalled the evening, I could have sworn that he and Dad appeared to have had words while I was in the bathroom at one stage. The atmosphere at the table had been tense when I had taken my seat again, and I remember noticing the diners at a couple of adjacent tables giving us odd looks.

  Colin breezed into the lounge interrupting my reverie. “Right. I’m off,” he said.

  “Sure. Safe travels,” I replied. “Ah, Colin, do you remember the last time we had dinner with Dad? At the Oxo Tower?”

  Colin paused in the doorway, his posture immediately tense, alert. There, I wasn’t making it up. “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Did you two argue when I was in the bathroom?” I asked.

  Colin laughed. “Yeah, but just about who was getting the bill. Jess, you’ve got to sto
p this. It’s time to move on. He’d want you to.”

  I watched from the front window until Colin’s taxi had pulled away, before grabbing my iPad and looking up the website for Dad’s firm. I tapped into the About Us page and let out a long breath as Dad smiled back at me from the group photo of the firm taken before their Christmas function the previous year, where everyone was all smiles and laughter. Below the photo was a list of the firm’s partners. I tapped the link on my father’s name. His obituary came up on the screen along with a photo of him sitting behind his desk.

  “Oh, Dad,” I murmured reaching out to stroke his face on the screen. After a few moments I scrolled to the bottom of the article where the names of his old team were noted, including his assistant, Emily MacIntyre. I had known her name was Emily, just not her surname. I opened up a new tab and searched the online telephone directory for her number. There were several E. MacIntyres in Edinburgh, but I whittled the list down to three. Nothing for it but to telephone each one and I lucked out first time.

  “Hi, Emily speaking.”

  “Emily, it’s Jessica McDonald, Don’s daughter.”

  “Jess, how nice to hear from you. How are you doing? We miss your father so, so much,” she replied.

  “Me too, Emily. I’m not sure how to ask this without it sounding odd…” I began.

  “Just ask away, Jess.”

  “Can you remember the clients Dad met with immediately before his heart attack?” I asked.

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, although I heard Emily’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Why are you asking, Jess?” Emily asked in a whisper.

  “I’m not entirely sure, but some things don’t add up for me.”

  “I do remember, Jess. They just turned up. The meeting wasn’t scheduled. Your father was a little rattled when he saw them. He asked that I hold his calls and that they not be disturbed.”

  “Was that unusual?”

  “No, but the men were. We normally have business clients. These guys were dressed like workmen, dirty jeans and heavy boots,” Emily said. “In fact, one was carrying kind of a toolbox.”