The Guilty Couple(42)

‘Olivia.’ Her mouth is a hard line, her eyes flinty and suspicious. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I was … I was going to use the toilet. Could you tell me where it is please?’

‘Round there,’ she gestures around the corner, beyond the lift, then her gaze returns to me. It flicks from my face to my hands. She’s looking for my mobile.

‘You have five minutes.’ She taps her watch. ‘One second late and it’s a written warning. No phone calls.’

It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at her. Instead I say, ‘Of course,’ and hurry away in the direction of the toilets. As soon as I’m out of sight I glance at my watch: 10.53 p.m.. I’ve got until 10.58 p.m. to get down to Dom’s office, open the safe and get back upstairs. I can’t use the lift because Noreen’s standing right next to it. There are stairs at the end of the corridor though, past the toilets. I’m mad to even attempt this but I have to at least try.

I set off at a run and speed down the stairs, my hand on the rail for balance. After three floors I’m breathing loudly and by floor five my heart is hammering.

10.53 p.m. and 52 seconds. I’ve got three minutes to get into the office, search it and get back to floor ten. I speed past the toilets, past the lift and pause by the glass doors to the office. No sign of another cleaner inside. A bead of sweat curves down the side of my face as I tap my pass against the lock and push at the door. Jo is partway down the room with her back to me. The hoover’s going and she’s got headphones on.

10.54 p.m. and 50 seconds.

I run lightly across the carpeted floor and pull open the glass door to Dom’s office. His desk is clean and tidy with a leather-bound A4 notebook, a letter opener and a pot of pens arranged just so. But I’m not interested in what my ex-husband has on show. I want what he’s hiding. I head for the bookcase and zero in on a small black safe that’s nestled between a dozen thick, leather-bound hardbacks. I tap Dom’s date of birth into the keypad on the front. Nothing. I try Grace’s. Nothing. 123456? Again, nothing. There’s a narrow gap between the door and the edge of the safe. Can I prise it open somehow?

I shuffle over to the desk on my knees and reach for the letter opener. As my fingers graze the metal handle I see a flash of navy outside and I snatch my hand back, sending the pen pot tumbling as Jo strolls past. I freeze, crouching beside the chair, as pens and pencils roll off the desk and fall to the floor. I risk a glance at the glass wall but Jo hasn’t returned to see what’s going on. I’ve got less than a minute and a half to get out of here and up five flights of stairs before Noreen starts wondering where I am. I scrabble to my feet, dart out of the door and sprint across the office. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jo turning to stare at me, a startled expression on her face.

‘Sorry!’ I raise a hand in apology. ‘I got lost!’ Then I’m out of the door.

I speed up the first two flights of stairs, arms pumping, then slow as I hit floor eight. I wasn’t fit before I went to prison and I’m even more unfit now. Ninth floor. My thighs are burning, my lungs feel half their size and my body is screaming at me to please stop running. But I’m nearly there. Just one more floor. How long have I got? Thirty seconds? None?

I sprint on wobbling legs past the toilets then slow as I reach the corner. I take a shallow, shaky breath, run my hands over my hair and step around the corner to find Noreen waiting for me, looking at her watch.

‘Ten seconds.’ She raises an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry … I’ll get back to work.’ I move to pass her but she holds out a hand, forcing me to stop.

‘You’re sweating.’ Her eyes sweep my face. ‘And you’re out of breath.’

I don’t know what to say. How do I explain the fact my hairline is wet and beads of sweat are rolling down the sides of my face?

Silence stretches between us as I search for an explanation that she’ll believe.

‘I, um … I splashed water on my face. I had an asthma attack. Sometimes cold water helps. It … it helps calm me down.’

‘You had an asthma attack … in the toilets?’

‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

Before she can say another word I swerve past her, swipe my pass against the lock and slide into the office. My legs give way the moment I’m out of sight and I sink to the floor. I’ve kept my job but I’m no closer to proving my innocence. Now what am I supposed to do?





Chapter 28


DOMINIC


Dominic glances at his watch. It’s so late he saw the cleaning company bus pull up as he drove into the car park. He hopes to god that Grace is still asleep at home, not walking from room to room, wondering where he is. He sits up taller. Another car has pulled into the car park, its headlights illuminating the dark corner where he’s parked, but it’s not a BMW. He slips down in his seat, heart pounding, as a white Mercedes cruises past. No one else ever uses the car park this late. Where the hell is Dani? He’s been psyching himself up all day and she’s thirty minutes late. After she texted earlier to say she had news, she’s been unusually quiet since. It’s unsettling. He knows where he is with a woman who rants and rages and makes a big noise. Silent women are different. They’re the only kind of woman he fears.

He sends Dani a text.