For Your Own Protection(5)

He cut the message off there. He sounded desperate.

Then he called Amy and explained things.

‘Go back there now,’ she advised. ‘You really don’t want things to fester.’

‘I’m still angry about it,’ he said. ‘Maybe I should wait until tomorrow morning, when I pick Charlie up.’

‘You don’t want to have that kind of discussion with him around. Go back there now; maybe you’ll catch her.’

‘Okay.’

‘Oh, Matt, before I forget. Harvey wants to talk to you.’

‘One to one?’

‘Yes, after tonight’s class, if that’s okay with you. I said it was okay.’

‘What about?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘It’s fine. Look, I’d better get back to Giuseppe’s. Although she’s probably gone by now.’

‘You might get her at home then.’

‘Maybe.’



Matt jogged back to Giuseppe’s, and he was surprised to see Beth through the window, still sitting at the same table. He rushed into the cafe, unable to slow his pace.

‘Beth,’ he said, approaching the table.

She looked up from her novel, shocked to see him back. Her face was puffy, and he knew she’d been crying.

‘Look, Beth, I’m sorry for reacting the way I did . . .’

She seemed uncomfortable with his presence. Her earlier smile had gone. Had his outburst affected her to such an extent?

She shifted in her chair. ‘Matt, maybe we’d better . . .’ Then her eyes slid across to her right as someone approached from behind where Matt was standing.

‘Matthew,’ James Farrah said, with a confident, relaxed smile. He must have just emerged from the bathroom. ‘Good to see you again,’ he added, proffering a hand.

Matt made the split-second decision to accept the gesture, holding his own in a too-tight-for-comfort grip that lasted long enough for the two men to eyeball one another across the table.

‘And you,’ Matt managed.

James looked like he was dressed for work, in an expensive dark suit, with a blood red tie and white shirt. Matt felt self-conscious in his scruffy jeans and polo shirt, as James gave him a quick once-over. ‘Enjoying the teaching career?’

The words were deliberately targeted.

‘It’s just temporary. Personal development before I return to UGT.’ Matt glanced at Beth, who was still the only one of the three who was seated. She didn’t raise her eyes from the table, and looked the picture of discomfort.

James then seemed to notice, dampening any combative attitude. ‘Good. It will be great to have you back, Matt.’

‘Thanks.’ Matt, too, thought of Beth, and chose not to say what he really wanted to say: that there was no way in hell that James was going to take his son away from him without a damn good fight.

Beth looked up from the table, directing her attention at Matt. ‘Maybe we’d better talk about, you know, another time. You probably need a chance to get your head around the idea.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry I upset you.’

‘When you pick Charlie up tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We can talk then. Is that okay?’

Matt nodded as James looked on in triumphant silence.





CHAPTER FOUR


The location for the break-up was deliberately low-key. Matt figured it wouldn’t be a good move to do the deed in some swanky restaurant, where it might be difficult to ‘end’ the lunch easily. So he had chosen a small pub just off Trafalgar Square called The Admiral. He’d decided against doing it in private – back at his flat, for example. It might have been the kinder option, ensuring that there was no danger of spectators, but in truth there was a reason for the public place: it was security for him. What if he was right about her being a stalker? At least in public there was less chance of this taking any kind of sinister turn.

He scanned the pub for Catherine. There was a smattering of patrons in the bar off to the left, mostly men in their fifties and sixties. A younger man was playing the slot machine to the right. This wasn’t a place that any of his colleagues at the bank would be caught dead in – not exclusive or expensive enough. But it suited Matt fine.

Not seeing Catherine around, he ordered a glass of lemonade, deciding it was best to keep a clear head, and took a seat at one of the tables near to the entrance. It would give her the option of a quick getaway.

He brooded over thoughts of Beth moving to the other side of the world, frolicking on golden Australian sands with her lover, perhaps never coming back, and leaving him with no connection to the son he so deeply loved and needed.

He sipped at his drink.

‘Matt!’

He was taken by surprise, so lost in swirling negative thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Catherine arrive. ‘Catherine.’ He managed a smile, and she brushed her lips against his cheek before taking the seat opposite. She looked stunning, with her blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail.

‘How are you?’

‘Great, thanks,’ she beamed. ‘Just been out in St James’s Park for a really hard session with a new client. A businessman from Paris, over here for a few months.’

Catherine was a fitness fanatic, and worked as a personal trainer to a number of super-wealthy people in the capital. Unlike Beth, Catherine could never be described as curvy. She was angular, as if she’d purged any hint of excess body fat with exercise.