Page 102 of The Dead Ex

My mouth went dry. ‘You first,’ I said.

‘OK.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I’ve put in for a transfer.’

It was as though someone had stuck a pin in me and deflated my body. ‘Why?’ I asked, my voice shaking.

‘The truth is that I find it too upsetting to work with mothers and babies. I thoughtI could do it. But I can’t.’

‘Where are you going?’ I blurt out.

He named a men’s prison in the north of England. ‘It will be a challenge. Just what I need.’ Then his hand reached out and briefly covered mine. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’

Quick, I told myself. Think of something. ‘There’s a woman who’s just been admitted to D wing. She seems very withdrawn, and I’m concerned for her.’

‘Eileen? I’m seeing her first thing in the morning.’ He stood up. ‘You don’t need to worry.’

Oh, but I did.

‘I was surprised to hear that Patrick is moving on,’ said a colleague at his leaving do. ‘I thought you and he might have … you know.’

‘Not at all,’ I said briskly. ‘We’re just friends. That’s all.’

Only then did I realize Patrick was standing right behind me.

Later that night, he shookmy hand formally. No hug. ‘It’s been good to work with you, Vicki,’ he said. ‘Good luck.’

38

Helen

8 January 2018

When I get into work on the Monday morning, I’m almost beside myself. How frustrating that my search of David’s place had proved fruitless. Maybe I’d missed something. There has got to be a clue somewhere. Some little detail. I can’t get this far and leave the company empty-handed.

There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to go into the lion’s den. David’s personal office.

But when? It’s locked over the weekend. (David is the only one who goes in then.) It’s true that he’s often out during the week for external meetings or business trips. But I can’t rely on his absences, because Posh Perdita is always flitting in and out with thatI’m the boss’s PA and I can do what I wantlook about her.

So I have to find a time when no one is around. It’s not unknown for David’sstaff to work until 8 or 9 p.m. Even after that, there’s often some nocturnal straggler keen to gain points for dedication, especially as appraisals are coming up.

My best bet, I decide, is to join that group tonight and try to be the last one there so I can get on his computer. We all have to change our passwords every last Friday of the month, and I know for a fact that Posh Perdita writesdown David’s on a pad on her desk for when she needs to send an email on his behalf. I’ve seen her.

So today I have come prepared, including packing a small parcel in my bag as I leave my flat. My plan might have been all right if the geek in the IT department – who’d asked me to the New Year party – wasn’t still working in the next room, having stayed on too. Finally he puts his head round mydoor. ‘I’m finished now. Fancy something to eat?’

I pretend to look disappointed. ‘Really sorry, Nigel. I’d have loved to but I’ve got to go through this lot.’ I indicate the camera on my desk.

‘Looks fascinating. I’d like to know more about your work.’

I shrug. ‘I’m just taking pictures that might, if they’re good enough, go into a new brochure for David, that’s all.’

Well, that’s what he’dpromised, I recall silently. Whether he’ll deliver or not is another story.

‘David?’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘Mr Goudman,’ I say quickly, correcting myself. Even Posh Perdita addresses him by his surname in front of others.

‘OK.’ He still appears hesitant. ‘Don’t work too late. You know what they say about all work and no play.’

Great! He’s gone. Quickly, I check the other offices. No onethere. I’ll need to be fast, or Security will be here to close up for the night. Perdita’s office is empty too. The notepad is on her desk. There is a series of symbols on it. At least, that’s what they might look like to anyone else. T-line shorthand! It was one of the other subjects I did at sixth-form college, thinking I might go into journalism. Iwasn’t great at it, but I could just aboutmake out some of the letters.