My Husband's Son - Deborah O'Connor Page 0,79

what had happened. I wouldn’t. I didn’t want the events of yesterday to be traded around the office like a piece of juicy gossip, or worse, with some journalist. But more than that, I didn’t want to tell them because to do so would feel like a betrayal, of Jason and our bond.

‘It was tricky – there was nothing I could do …’ I said, trying and failing to come up with an alternative explanation.

‘As it turned out, we were fine,’ she snipped. ‘More than fine, actually.’ She gave Nick a wink. ‘Nick stepped up. He’d been working on some new ideas in his own time and they turned out to be exactly what we needed.’

‘Sounds great,’ I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. I gave Nick a smile that didn’t match the rest of my face.

Thinking we were done, I went to leave them to it. It had been an hour and a half since I’d left Jason asleep in bed and I wanted to make sure he was OK. I might not have been able to stay home and keep an eye on him, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep checking in by phone. However, as soon as I went to make a move, Nick put down his giant mug and cleared his throat.

‘You’re too kind, Yvonne,’ he said. ‘I ran through a few random thoughts I’d had,’ he said, turning to me. ‘That was all.’

Flexing his shoulders so that the fabric of his shirt strained and pulled against his chest, he waited until there was a click from his spine before continuing.

‘You keep telling us we need to pull out all the stops and so I thought, if we’re going to hit our end-of-year targets then we all have to go the extra mile.’

‘You are so right,’ I said, stepping away from the kitchenette. I let my bag fall to my desk with a thump. ‘A good point, well made.’ I reached down and turned on my computer. ‘Better get to it.’

Determined not to let Nick’s blatant attempts at one-upmanship rattle me, I spent the rest of the morning – apart from a couple of brief calls to Jason – with my head down. The inside steer Yvonne had gleaned from her friend was brilliant, but it meant our entire pitch now needed tweaking. It was fiddly work but it had to be done. I knew I’d probably spend most of the coming weekend getting it perfect for Monday, but that was OK. Nick wasn’t wrong when he said that winning the Griffiths account was critical to our sales targets. What he didn’t realise was how much I personally also had riding on the whole thing. If it were to go well then it would almost certainly help keep any further warning letters at bay.

I finished adding text to one of the new presentation slides Yvonne had requested and hit save. I’d decided to hold off calling Martin until lunchtime. Hopefully he’d persuaded Vicky to see a doctor. Jason had said that, in the past, Vicky had taken tablets: first for postnatal depression and then, later, to help her cope with Barney’s disappearance. Judging by what I’d seen this morning, it seemed she’d stopped taking them or that her medication needed to be reviewed.

It was coming up to two o’clock when Yvonne announced that she was popping out to grab a sandwich. As soon as she was gone, I grabbed my phone and got up from my desk. Pushing my way through the swing-doors, I took a left down the corridor and headed for the stairwell at the side of the building. Secluded and rarely used (the other people in the building tended to take the lift), it would give me all the privacy I needed.

After tucking myself into the corner, I dialled the detective’s mobile.

‘Martin,’ I said, when he picked up. ‘It’s Heidi. Jason’s wife.’

He didn’t respond. In the background I could hear muffled chatter and ringing phones. I let a few more seconds pass and then, when he still hadn’t said anything, I tried again.

‘Is now a good time to talk?’

‘Of course. How can I help?’

‘I’m not sure when you last spoke to Jason but he’s been having a hard time of it these past few days.’ I had planned on telling the detective how Jason had sneaked his way up to the top of the power station. I’d thought that it would help him understand why, despite what I’d said in the past, I

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