A few years later, Dad had a vision and begged, stole, and borrowed enough to buy the failing company for a knock-down price. At the time, he was the talk of the village and a day didn’t pass without me overhearing a neighbour whisper about how foolish he was. He never let the rumours affect him; instead, he redrafted the wagon routes and set up central hubs to make the business more efficient.
By the time I was fourteen, we were financially comfortable and he’d packed me off to an upmarket private school where I spent two hellish years trying to fit in. I mean, how’s a teenager supposed to know when Calvin Klein is out and Gucci is in? I just felt lucky to no longer be in clothes passed on by well-meaning family members. That was all water under the bridge now: a distant memory. Thankfully. I glanced down at my J Brand skinnies and stroked them affectionately.
Once the Merc was far enough ahead, I started my engine and followed him. We drove towards Manchester, and I almost doubted my earlier suspicions. Perhaps he was just going to pick up Megan from the arena and I was wasting my time on a ‘mission improbable’. Maybe I hadn’t spotted another person in the car after all.
But then he turned off towards Rusholme. Yes, Rusholme: where the students live. Mike pulled up outside a terraced house with a small, overgrown front garden and I drove on, turning onto another road further down. I got out of the car and crept to the corner, making sure to stick to the shadows before peering around a privet hedge.
There she was, stepping out of his car.
I fumbled around in my pocket and pulled out my phone ready to capture the evidence, but in my giddy haste, I was all thumbs, unable to get the screen to unlock in time. Before I knew it, she was inside and he’d driven off. Damn, damn, and double damn. Thwarted, I trudged back to the car and drove home.
James was already in bed when I got there so I slipped under the covers quietly, taking care not to disturb him before kissing him gently on the shoulder.
The next morning, I was already up making breakfast when he came downstairs. I’d bought those part-cooked pains au chocolat that you pop in the oven for a bit. They’re just like home-cooked ones but without the mess and the effort, which suited me perfectly.
‘Mmm, something smells delicious – you do know how to spoil me.’ He came up behind me and snaked his arms around my waist, kissing my neck as he snuggled in close, sending a tingle up my spine. He was dressed in just his pyjama bottoms and his torso radiated a familiar, comforting heat.
‘Sit down, the coffee is almost brewed,’ I said, pouring him a glass of freshly squeezed orange as I guided him to the table. I loved Sunday mornings. Enjoying a lazy breakfast with my handsome husband couldn’t be beaten.
‘How about a long countryside walk later?’ I asked as I took the pastries out of the oven. I’d hoped to broach the subject of trying for a baby again. We’d discussed it and James said he wanted nothing more than a family of our own, but work was consuming him and there wasn’t exactly much action going on in the bedroom. I needed to bring it up. I wasn’t getting any younger and we’d put off having children when we were younger, to allow time for James’s business to grow. We couldn’t put it off for much longer. It was a case of now . . . or maybe never.
‘I’m sorry, darling, I can’t today. This case is taking everything I have at the moment. You know how big Bracken Peel are and one of the directors has been accused of embezzlement. His imprisonment would completely ruin his life – he has a family and everything. You do understand don’t you?’ He placed his hand on mine.
Bracken Peel were a huge FTSE500 company and the case had made the news so I could understand his need to win, but a tiny seed of thought at the back of my brain selfishly wondered why he’d put some director’s family before having one of his own. It was irrational to think that way, I convinced myself, and smiled warmly; I was in awe of his dedication, and had to push my own concerns aside.
I’d been dedicated myself when I worked as an accountant, but once James’s legal practice took off, I left to support him in any way I could. Once James and his partners built a team and he no longer needed me in the office, I got into organising charity events and social gatherings until I reached a point where I couldn’t even begin to imagine how I ever had time to work. I shop for locally produced, organic foods; I do yoga; keep up with physical maintenance – facials, light masks, or whatever the latest craze is; prepare meals; and save the rest of my time for James. He likes having me here for him too.
‘Okay, another time then. Here you go.’ I handed him his pastry, rubbing his back with my other hand.
‘The money from this case is going to be huge.’ I tensed on the word ‘money’. It wasn’t that I hated him earning good money – it brought us a wonderful life. I just wondered when James would ever feel like he had enough money to just sit back and enjoy it a bit more. I didn’t feel like we needed extra. ‘It’s going to be worth our while, I promise you.’ He kissed me on the head and then bit into his pastry.
It was probably just as well he was busy since I still had to catch that cheating rat of a fiancé of Megan’s. I couldn’t believe how I’d messed it up the previous evening. I never messed up. I’m the type of person who’d once spent a whole twenty-four hours feeling like a failure because I’d forgotten to put the wheelie bin out in time for collection.
Leaving James at the table eating his breakfast, I went upstairs to get my phone. My first thought was to get in touch with Megan to see if she had any idea about her fiancé’s indiscretions. I tapped out a quick text:
Megan, I accidentally ate a full Hotel Chocolat pistachio and honey slab last night. My thighs have swollen to double their size. Any chance of an extra session today?
Admittedly, it was far-fetched because I always try to eat healthily and would never wolf down a bar of chocolate that size, but I did eat a good quarter of one yesterday afternoon. A long run afterwards had probably dealt with the calories but to be honest, Megan was unlikely to question it – she knew I could be overdramatic at times. Knowing Megan wouldn’t turn down the extra thirty quid, I slipped into my gym kit and waited. Bingo. Less than five minutes later I got her reply:
Okay, be there in thirty minutes
Right on time, she was buzzing at my gate, and I went out to greet her on the driveway. Megan looked fresh in her colourful geometric-print workout leggings and matching cropped top, which showcased her lean stomach and visible six-pack. Her honey-coloured hair was scraped back into a high ponytail and her flawless caramel skin required no make-up. Why Mike felt the need for an affair was anybody’s guess. I’d never understood why men took such risks when they already had the perfect woman by their side. I was so fortunate to have found James.
‘Thank you so much for coming over on a Sunday. I’ve been consumed by chocolate-induced guilt.’ I shook my head – not so much for effect, but more because the thought of eating that much chocolate really did make me feel like a glutton.
She gave me a wry smile. ‘Is this as bad as the time you ate two bread rolls and thought you were nine months pregnant with a loaf?’
I knew she thought I was being over-the-top, but Megan knows I’m conscious of how I look. She would say vain, but that’s only because I don’t know what else to talk to her about other than weight and exercise. She’s a personal trainer for goodness’ sake! James loves my figure and he gives me so much that staying in shape is something I can do to keep him happy in return. Besides, once you hit thirty, you really have to work a little harder to keep the pounds off and the bread rolls do make more of a difference than they perhaps would have done a decade before. Ageing is a bitch.
‘I thought you and James were trying for a baby?’ she asked, like it was an excuse.
‘Trying being the operative word, and only