The Dead Ex(83)

‘I’ve done a big deal at work. And it’s not just me that’s buying it. So are you. It’s got nothing to do with the company.’

So that’s why he needed my signature.

‘But I haven’t seen the house.’

‘You’ve hardly got time to come home, let alone go to the States. Anyway, it’s an investment, like I said.’

I was still reading. ‘You’re paying for it in cash?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s not uncommon.’

An uneasy sensation began to crawl through me. One of the women at my previous prison had been jailed for money laundering after buying houses with the proceeds of drug deals.

‘This deal which you did at work,’ I said slowly. ‘It was … above board, wasn’t it?’

Instantly, his face darkened. ‘Of course it was. What do you think I am?’

‘Then why didn’t you pay the money into the bank and do a transfer?’

‘Because the seller is in London tomorrow and wants cash.’

‘There’s no need to snap at me.’

‘And there’s no need to ask so many questions.’ His finger jabbed at the space for the buyer’s signature. ‘Just write your name, will you?’

‘Why can’t you buy it in your name alone?’

David began to massage my shoulders again, but this time, it didn’t feel so good. ‘So that if anything happened to me, you and our baby have an asset to sell.’

That niggle of worry was getting bigger. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but it doesn’t feel right, especially in my job. I have to be within the law and …’

‘I’ve told you. This is perfectly legal. Just sign.’

The baby moved inside as if it too wasn’t happy about this. ‘Only when I’ve got my own solicitor to look it over.’

Instantly he snatched it away. ‘If you feel like that, don’t bother. How are we going to be good parents if we can’t trust each other?’

‘Where are you going?’ I asked, suddenly scared.

‘Out. Don’t bother waiting up. I’ll be sleeping in the spare room.’

I stop for a minute. The pain caused by the memory has winded me. ‘What happened after that?’ asks my solicitor quietly.

‘When I woke up in the morning, he was standing by my bedside with a mug of tea.’ I shook my head, half-laughing and half-crying. ‘ “Thought you might like this,” he said. He didn’t mention the document, and nor did I.’

‘You wanted to keep the peace,’ she says gently.

‘Exactly.’

‘And you think he was buying houses with cash that he got from something illegal?’

‘Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? He asked me once more, but I refused. Clearly, Tanya wasn’t worried about getting into trouble though.’

There’s a knock on the door. It’s one of the prison officers. ‘Lunchtime,’ she says.

I am saved. For now.





46



Helen

14 February 2018


There’s still no sign of David. The office is now in a state of pure panic. The phone constantly rings with journalists wanting to know if there is any news. I try to keep my head down. But really I’m putting off something that needs to be done. Why don’t I just get on with it? I’ve waited long enough. But the weird thing is that, now I’ve got the information I’ve been looking for, I’m scared.

It’s today’s date which makes me finally do it. Valentine’s Day. My blood boils just to think of it. Whatever happened to compassion, let alone love? Someone has to take revenge for what happened. But how? Then I get it. The following day, I call in sick. No one seems bothered. From Perdita’s panicky voice at the other end and the background chatter, it’s clear that they are only interested in David.

‘Still no news?’ I ask.

‘No,’ she snaps.

Then I head for Paddington and catch the first off-peak train, desperately hoping, as my credit card slides into the machine, that I haven’t exceeded my limit.

Part of me wonders why David had her address in the first place. Is it possible he still has feelings for her?

Once more I think of that woman with red hair who’d given David a mouthful on the other side of the restaurant window soon after I’d started at the Goudman Corporation. She’d seemed like a force to be reckoned with.

The journey takes hours. Outside, the trees are bowed with the storm. The train rocks from side to side, making me feel a bit sick. So many boring fields! Mile after mile of nothing. The trolley rattles by, but everything is expensive. I make do with the bottle of tap water I’d had the foresight to bring and try to ignore my rumbling stomach.

By mid-afternoon, we finally get there. ‘Welcome to Penzance’ says the sign at the station. My heart starts to pound in my chest. It feels unreal to be so close after all this time.

There’s a line of taxis outside. ‘Could you tell me where this road is?’ I ask a driver, showing him the address which I’d got from David’s office.

‘Ten-minute walk, love. Just hop in.’

I make an apologetic face. ‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t afford you.’