The First Mistake(28)

‘Okay, you’re scaring me now,’ I say, but the adrenaline is coursing its way around my body. Is this even a remote possibility?

‘I’ve just spoken with the vendors,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘They’re desperate. They were selling for ￡1.5 million, but they’ll drop if they can get a buyer now.’ He falls to his knees in front of me. ‘We can do this Alice. I know we can.’

‘We . . . we can’t, I mean we can’t just . . .’

‘You wanted to hit the big time,’ he says earnestly. ‘Well, now’s your chance.’

‘We need to talk about it . . .’

‘We can’t wait around, Al – this offer’s not going to be there for long. They’ll have other developers biting their hand off – it’s right on the 2020 Olympics site. It’s a no-brainer.’

‘I need to think,’ I say. ‘I can’t think straight.’

‘We can do this,’ repeats Nathan excitedly. ‘It’s all there for the taking.’

‘I need some time to get my head around it,’ I say. ‘Give me twenty-four hours to think.’

‘This opportunity might not be there in twenty-four hours,’ he pleads. ‘We need to strike whilst the iron’s hot.’

‘I’m not going to make a rash decision now, Nathan.’ My voice surprises me – its tone tinged with calmness, belying the chaos that is raging through my head. ‘AT Designs was set up using Tom’s money. Almost every penny of his inheritance went into founding this company and I’m not about to blow all our hard work on a whimsical fancy thousands of miles away.’

‘When you say, “our” hard work, are you referring to mine and yours? Or yours and Tom’s?’ Nathan’s blue eyes are unflinching as he looks at me.

‘Both,’ I say.

‘I’ve given my all to this company,’ he says, ‘and yet ten years after Tom’s death, he still takes top billing.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, you’re being ridiculous,’ I snap, closing the door in a futile attempt to stop the whole company listening in on our domestic.

‘But I’m right, aren’t I? No matter what I do or how much I achieve, I will never be able to escape Tom’s shadow.’

‘You’ve worked here for less than three years,’ I say. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

I see him smart and wish that I could suck the words back in.

‘You need to understand how much AT Designs means to me,’ I say, careful to keep my voice gentle and my features soft. ‘We’ve worked so hard to get it where it is – you, me, Tom, all of us.’

‘Who are you doing it all for, Alice?’ he asks, turning away from me. ‘Because if it’s Tom, he’s not coming back.’

I swallow hard at his true words. No one is more aware of that than I am. ‘I’m doing it for us,’ I say. ‘You, me, the girls. It’s what keeps me sane.’ I attempt to smile but I know it’s not reaching my eyes.

‘Will you at least think about it?’ he says. ‘For us.’

I nod, but I’ve already made my decision. How can I risk the business when I’m not even convinced our marriage is going to survive? Despite his protestations on Saturday night, I’d allowed the poison of paranoia to worm its way through my system as soon as he’d gone to bed. At 11 p.m., I’d believed him and felt nothing but relief. By two o’clock the next morning, I was wallowing in self-pity and overcome with an incandescent fury that I’d allowed him to trick me. If I’d known where his ‘mistress’ lived, I would have gone round there and dragged her out by her hair.

Thankfully, when I woke up yesterday, my emotions were a little calmer despite the banging in my head, and we’d managed to have the kind of Sunday I wouldn’t have thought possible just a few hours before. We smiled at all the right times and asked the girls all the right questions over a roast dinner, but there was still a palpable feeling that something was off. The elephant in the room wasn’t so big that the girls would notice it, but it was there nevertheless. And the shadow of it still remains today, so how can I possibly plough everything I’ve worked for into something I know so little about?

And yes, Nathan’s right; Tom is still at the forefront of my mind all these years later. Whether it be trying to second-guess what he’d do when Sophia plays up, to how he’d advise me to handle this very situation. I hear his voice so clearly, see his face so vividly, that it sometimes takes my breath away. He wouldn’t want me to risk throwing everything away. I know he wouldn’t. I just need to convince Nathan that’s what I think and not what I know Tom would have thought.





12


‘Are you coming up?’ Nathan asks that night, wrapping his arms around me as I iron Olivia’s school uniform.

I can’t help but stiffen at his touch and try to convince myself that I’m still reeling from David Phillips overstepping the mark. It’s easier that way, as it hurts too much to acknowledge that it’s actually Nathan I’m recoiling from.

‘No, you go on,’ I say, ‘I’ll be up in a bit.’ I reach over the ironing board for my wine glass on the table.

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ he asks, and I immediately feel my hackles rise.