I’ll mention it to him, I decide. Just to prove it to myself.
“Well … I hope it all goes well,” I say. “And I … I guess you’ll be seeing more of your family?”
“I’ll be lumbered with the blighters, yes!” He booms with laughter again.
“I never knew your son-in-law was a director of BLLC Holdings!” I attempt an easy tone. “Quite a coincidence!”
There’s a beat of silence.
“I’m sorry?” says Arnold. His voice is still as charming as ever, but the warmth has disappeared.
“BLLC Holdings.” I swallow. “You know, the other company involved with the Third Union Bank loan? The one that registered a charge? I just happened to notice—”
“I have to go now, Samantha!” Arnold cuts me off smoothly. “Delightful to chat, but I’m leaving the country next week, and there’s a lot to do. It’s exceedingly busy here, so I wouldn’t ring again if I were you.”
The line goes dead before I can say any more. I slowly put down the phone and stare at a butterfly fluttering outside the window.
That wasn’t right. That wasn’t a natural reaction. He got rid of me as soon as I mentioned his son-in-law.
Something is going on. Something is definitely going on.
I have totally abandoned the housework for the afternoon and am sitting on my bed with a pad of paper and pencil, trying to work out the possibilities.
Who stands to gain? I stare at my scribbled facts and arrows of connection yet again. Two brothers. Millions of pounds being transferred between banks and companies. Think. Think …
With a small cry of frustration I rip out the page and crumple it. Let’s start again. Let’s get everything in logical order. Glazerbrooks went into receivership. Third Union Bank lost their money. BLLC Holdings jumped ahead in the queue.…
I tap my pencil impatiently on the paper. But so what? They only get back the money they loaned. They don’t get any advantage, they don’t get any benefit, it’s pointless.
Unless—unless they never paid over anything in the first place.
The thought comes to me out of nowhere. I sit bolt upright, unable to breathe. What if that’s it? What if it’s a scam?
My mind starts to race. Suppose there are two brothers. They know that Glazerbrooks is in serious financial trouble. They know that the bank has just paid in fifty million but the bank’s charge wasn’t registered. That means there’s a fifty-million unsecured loan swilling around in the company, up for grabs by anyone else who registers a charge.…
I can’t sit anymore. I’m pacing backward and forward, feverishly gnawing my pencil, my brain sparking like an electrical circuit. It works. It works. They fiddle the figures. BLLC Holdings gets the money that Third Union Bank paid over, Carter Spink’s insurers foot the bill—
I pause in my striding. No. It doesn’t work. I’m being stupid. The insurers are only covering the fifty million because I was negligent. That’s the crucial element. The whole plan would have depended on me, Samantha Sweeting, making that particular mistake.
But I mean … how on earth could they have planned that? It makes no sense. It’s impossible. You can’t plan a mistake in advance. You can’t make someone forget to do something, you can’t make someone fuck up—
And then I stop dead. My skin suddenly feels clammy. The memo.
I never saw that memo on my desk until it was too late. I know I didn’t.
What if—
Oh, my God.
I sink onto the window seat, my legs like rubber. What if someone planted that memo on my desk? Slipped it into a pile of papers after the deadline had passed?
What if I didn’t make a mistake?
I feel like everything is cracking and reshaping around me. What if Arnold deliberately didn’t register the bank charge—and made it look like my fault?
Like a looped tape, my conversation with Arnold that day is playing over and over in my mind. When I said I couldn’t remember seeing the memo on my desk. And he immediately changed the subject.
I assumed the memo was there all the time. I assumed it was my error. My inefficiency. But what if it wasn’t? Everyone at Carter Spink knew I had the messiest desk in the firm. It would be easy to slip it into a pile of papers. Make it look as if it had been there for weeks.
I’m breathing harder and harder, till I’m almost hyperventilating. For the first time I’m realizing the huge strain I’ve been under. I have lived with that mistake for more than a month. It’s been there every morning when I wake up and every day when I go to bed. Like a constant background ache that I’ve gotten used to, like a chorus in my head: Samantha Sweeting ruined her life. Samantha Sweeting fucked up.
But … what if I was used? What if it wasn’t my fault? What if I didn’t make a mistake after all?
I have to know. I have to know the truth. Right now. With a shaking hand I reach for my mobile phone and punch in the number again.
“Lara, I need to speak to Arnold again,” I say as soon as I’m connected.
“Samantha …” Lara sounds awkward. “I’m afraid Arnold won’t take any more calls from you. And he asked me to tell you that you’re not to pester him about your job anymore.”
I’m in shock. What has he been saying about me?
“Lara, I’m not pestering him about my job,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just need to talk to him about a … matter. If he won’t talk to me, I’ll come to the office. Can you make me an appointment, please?”
“Samantha.” She sounds even more embarrassed than before. “Arnold told me to inform you … if you try to come here to the offices, Security will eject you.”
“Eject me?” I stare at the phone in disbelief.
“I’m sorry. I really am. And I don’t blame you!” she adds fervently. “I thought what Arnold did to you was really shocking! A lot of us do.”
What he did to me? Does Lara know the memo was planted?
“What—what do you mean?” I stammer.
“The way he got you fired!” says Lara.
“What?” I feel like all the breath has been squeezed from my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“I did wonder if you knew.” She lowers her voice. “He’s leaving now, so I can say it. I took the minutes at that meeting, after you ran off. And Arnold talked round all the other partners. He said you were a liability and they couldn’t risk taking you back and all sorts. A lot of them wanted to give you another chance, you know.” She clicks her tongue. “I was appalled. Of course, I couldn’t say anything to Arnold.”
“Of course not,” I manage. “Thanks for telling me, Lara. I … had no idea.”
Everything is distorted. Arnold didn’t fight my corner at all. He got me fired. I don’t know this man at all. All that genial, affable charm—it’s an act. It’s a bloody act.
With a sickening lurch I suddenly recall him the day after it happened, insisting I should stay where I was, not come back. That’s why. He wanted me out of the way so I couldn’t fight for myself. So he could stitch me up.
And I trusted him. Totally and utterly. Like a stupid, stupid gullible fool.
My chest is heaving painfully. All my doubts have disappeared. Arnold is in on something crooked. I know it. He planted that memo, knowing it would destroy my career.
And in a week he’ll have disappeared to the Bahamas. I feel a stab of panic. I need to take action now.
“Lara,” I say, trying to sound calm. “Could you put me through to Guy Ashby?”
I know Guy and I had a row. But he’s the only person I can think of right now who’ll be able to help me.
“Guy’s in Hong Kong,” says Lara in surprise. “Didn’t you know?”
“Right,” I say, my heart plummeting. “No. I … didn’t know.”
“But he’ll have his BlackBerry with him,” she adds helpfully. “You could send him an e-mail.”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath. “Yes, maybe I’ll do that.”
Twenty
I can’t
do it. I just can’t. There is no way of writing this e-mail without sounding like a paranoid crazy.
I look in despair at my tenth attempt.
Dear Guy,
I need you to help me. I think I have been set up by Arnold. I think he planted that memo on my desk. Something is going on. He has family links with both BLLC Holdings and Glazerbrooks, did you know that?? Why did he never tell anyone? And now he’s banned me from the building, which in itself is suspicious—
I sound delusional. I sound like some bitter, twisted ex-employee with a grudge.
Which of course is what I am.
As I run my eyes over my words, I’m reminded of nothing more than the wild-eyed old woman who used to stand at the corner of our street, muttering, “They’re coming to GET me.”
I have total sympathy for that old woman now. They probably were coming to get her.
Guy will just laugh. I can see him now. Arnold Saville a crook? It sounds insane. Maybe I am insane. It’s only a theory. I don’t have evidence; I don’t have anything solid. I lean forward and rest my head hopelessly on my hands. No one’s ever going to believe me. Or even listen to me.
If I only had some proof. But where am I supposed to get that from?
A bleeping from my mobile phone makes me jump, and I look up blearily. I’d almost forgotten where I was. I pick it up and see that I’ve got a text.
I’m downstairs. have a surprise to show you. nat
As I head downstairs, I’m really not with it. Flashes of anger keep overwhelming me as I think of Arnold’s jocular smile, the way he encouraged my messy desk, the way he told me he’d do his very best for me, the way he listened as I blamed myself, as I apologized and groveled …
The worst thing is, I never even tried to defend myself. I never questioned the fact that I couldn’t remember seeing the memo. I immediately assumed the worst of myself, assumed it was my fault for having such a messy desk.
Arnold knows me pretty well. Maybe that’s what he was counting on.
Bastard. Bastard.
“Hi.” Nathaniel waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Samantha.”
“Oh … Sorry. Hi!” Somehow I muster a smile.
“Come this way.” He grins and ushers me out to his car, which is an ancient Beetle convertible. As usual, rows of seed pots are crowding the backseat and an old wooden spade is sticking out of the back.
“Madam.” He opens the door gallantly.
“So what are you showing me?” I ask as I get in.
“Magical mystery tour.” He smiles enigmatically and starts up the engine.
We drive out of Lower Ebury and take a route I don’t recognize, through a tiny neighboring village and up into the hills. Nathaniel seems in a cheerful mood and tells me stories about each farm and pub that we pass. But I barely hear a word. My mind is still churning.
I don’t know what I can do. I can’t even get into the building. I have no credibility. I’m powerless. And I only have three days. Once Arnold disappears off to the Bahamas that’ll be it.
“Here we are!” Nathaniel turns off the road into a gravel drive. He maneuvers the car into place by a low brick wall, then stops the engine. “What do you think?”
With an effort I wrench my mind back to the present time. “Um.…” I peer around blankly. “Yes. Lovely.”
What am I supposed to be looking at?
“Samantha, are you OK?” Nathaniel shoots me a curious glance. “You seem on edge.”
“I’m fine.” I try to smile. “Just a bit tired.”
I open the car door to get out, away from his gaze. I shut the door behind me and look around.
We’re in some kind of courtyard. There’s a ramshackle old stone house to the right, with a for sale post. Ahead are banks of greenhouses, glinting in the low sunlight. There are plots filled with rows of vegetables, there’s a Portakabin marked garden center …
Hang on.
I turn to see that Nathaniel has got out of the car too and is holding a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“A horticultural business opportunity,” he reads aloud. “Four acres of land, with ten more available, subject to negotiation. Ten thousand square feet of glasshouses. Four-bedroom farmhouse, needs work …”
“You’re buying this?” I say, my attention fully grabbed.
“I’m thinking about it. I wanted to show you first.” He spreads an arm around. “It’s a pretty good concern. Needs building up, but the land’s there. We can get some polytunnels going, extend the offices …”
I can’t take all this in.
“But what about the pubs? How come you’re suddenly—”
“It was you. What you said in the garden that day.” He pauses, the breeze ruffling his hair. “You’re right, Samantha. I’m not a landlord, I’m a gardener. I’d be happier doing what I really want to do. So … I had a long talk with Mum and she understood. We both reckon Eamonn can take over. Not that he knows yet.”
“Wow.” I look around again, taking in a pile of wooden crates, stacks of seed trays, a tattered poster advertising Christmas trees. “So you’re really going to do it?”
I can see the excitement in his face. “You only get one chance at life.”
“Well, I think it’s fantastic!”
“And there’s a house.” He nods toward it. “Or at least, there will be a house. It’s a bit run-down.”
“Right.” I take in the old stone house again. The paintwork is peeling and there’s a shutter hanging off one hinge. “It does look a bit of a mess.”
“I wanted you to see it first,” says Nathaniel. “Get your approval. I mean, one day you might—” He stops.
All of a sudden my relationship sensors are swiveling round madly, like the Hubble spotting an alien ship. What did they just pick up? What was he going to say?
“I might … stay over?” I supply at last.
“Exactly.” Nathaniel rubs his nose. “Shall we have a look?”
The house is bigger than it seems from the outside, with bare boards and old fireplaces and a creaking wooden staircase. One room has practically no plaster, and the kitchen is totally old-fashioned, with 1930s cupboards.
“Great kitchen.” I shoot him a teasing look.
“I’m sure I could refit it to your Cordon Bleu standards,” he returns.
We make our way upstairs and into a huge bedroom overlooking the rear of the house. From above, the vegetable plots look like an orderly patchwork quilt, stretching away into the green meadow. I can see a little terrace down below and a tiny private garden belonging to the house, all clematis and tangled roses.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I say, leaning on the windowsill. “I love it.”
Standing here, looking out at the view, I feel like London is on another planet. Carter Spink and Arnold and all of them suddenly seem part of another life.
But even as I’m gazing out at the restful country scene, I can’t relax. All it would take is one phone call to the right person …
If I had some proof …
Anything …
My mind starts turning over the facts again, like a bird turning over empty snail shells. I’m going to drive myself crazy like this.
“What I was wondering is …”
Suddenly I become aware that Nathaniel is speaking. In fact I think he could have been speaking for a while—and I haven’t heard a word. I hastily turn round, to see him facing me. His cheeks are flushed and he has an unfamiliar awkwardness about him. It looks like whatever he’s been saying has required some effort.
“ … do you feel the same way, Samantha?”
He coughs, and breaks off into an expectant silence.
I stare back at him dumbly. Do I feel the same way about what?
Oh, shit. Bollocks. The man I’m secretly falling in love with just made a romantic speech to me—probably the only one I’ll get in my whole life—and I wasn’t listening? I missed it?
I want to shoot myself for being so rubbish.
&nbs
p; And now he’s waiting for me to reply. What am I going to do? He’s just spilled his heart to me. I can’t say, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Um …” I push my hair back, playing for time. “Well … you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”
“But do you agree?”
OK, this is Nathaniel. I’m sure I agree with it, whatever it is.
“Yes.” I give him the most sincere look I can muster. “Yes, I agree. Wholeheartedly. In fact … I’ve often thought so myself.”
Nathaniel is scrutinizing me. “You agree,” he says, as though to make sure. “With everything?”
“Er … yes!” I’m starting to feel a bit nervous now. What have I agreed to?
“Even about the chimpanzees?”
“The chimpanzees?” I suddenly see Nathaniel’s mouth twitching. He’s on to me.
“You didn’t listen to a word I was saying, did you?” he says, in matter-of-fact tones.
“I didn’t realize you were saying something important!” I wail, hanging my head. “You should have warned me!”
Nathaniel looks at me incredulously. “That took some nerve, you know, saying all that.”
“Say it again,” I beg. “Say it all again! I’ll listen!”
“Uh-uh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe one day.”
“I’m sorry, Nathaniel. Really I am.” I turn away to press my head against the window glass. “I was just … distracted.”
“I know.” He comes over and puts his arms around me, over my own. I can feel his steady heartbeat against me, calming me down. “Samantha, what’s up? It’s your old relationship, isn’t it?”
“Yup,” I mutter after a pause.
“Why won’t you tell me about it? I could help.”
I turn round to face him. The sun is glowing in his eyes and on his burnished face. He’s never looked more handsome.
I know I can’t hide my past forever. I could tell Nathaniel the whole story, right here, right now. But at the same time, I know that the minute I tell him who I was, he’ll look at me differently. Everything will change between us. I won’t be Samantha anymore. I’ll be a lawyer.
And it’s all so perfect as it is. I can’t bear to rock the boat just yet.