Moving On (13 page)

‘Why?’

‘Because you have a dream and you’re making it come true.’

‘Don’t you have any major dreams?’ Avril asked.

Molly shook her head. ‘When I was married, Craig was trying to get his career established and we put everything into that. I simply didn’t have time to daydream. Now . . . I haven’t got my own act together yet. That’s why I’ve come away. Even after we split up, he was there, either in person or getting at me through our children.’

‘How long have you been divorced?’

‘A little over a year.’

‘You’ll have to tell me about it sometime – just general things – if you don’t mind, that is. My niece has just split up with her husband and she’s having a hard time. I’m not sure how best to help her.’

‘She has to help herself. It took me a while to figure that out.’

‘Is that what you’re doing?’

Molly shrugged. ‘Starting to. And about time too. Now, tell me more about the leisure village and what gave you the idea for building one, Euan.’

They allowed her to change the subject, thank goodness. She wasn’t yet ready to air all the dirty washing from her marriage in public. And besides, she didn’t think she came out of it well. She’d been so . . . spineless! And even now, wasn’t as strong as she’d like to be.

While she was helping Avril wash the dishes, the other woman said abruptly, ‘Don’t forget to stand up for yourself in your new job.’

‘Who against?’

‘Everyone. Euan, for one. He sometimes lets his needs run away with everyone else’s time, though he’s mostly very caring about his employees.’ She patted Molly’s forearm with one soapy hand. ‘And think about finding some dreams of your own, my dear. Everyone needs them.’

‘My main dream is learning how to stand up for myself.’

Another pat. ‘That’s a good start. But it shouldn’t stop you working out what you want to do with your life, how to find joy again. They’re not mutually exclusive.’

Avril’s sympathy gave Molly the courage to say, ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have any particular skills or even any hobbies, except for reading. I’m just . . . ordinary. A housewife, really. I’m not even good at choosing clothes for myself. You should have seen how awful I looked at my daughter’s wedding. Craig used to send one of his staff out shopping with me when there were big events. I’ve got a wardrobe full of formal clothes in store.’

But she’d given her wedding outfit to a charity shop. She never wanted to see it again, even though she’d lost enough weight in the past few weeks to make it fit properly. Strange, that. She hadn’t been trying to lose weight. She realized Avril had said something. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about something.’

‘I said, if you need help shopping, come to me. I love choosing clothes. Not for fashion statements but to make the most of people. And I’m quite good at it too. All my nieces come to me for help with important outfits. Now, let’s take Euan’s coffee through.’

He was asleep on the sofa, all his weariness showing in his face.

Avril set the tray down with a sigh. ‘I hate to disturb him, but he needs to go home to bed.’

‘If you want to let him sleep for a while, I can catch a taxi back. It’s not far.’

‘Oh, no. I’m too fond of my privacy. And how would he respect my authority if he saw me wearing my tatty old dressing gown with my hair in its morning tangle? Let him run you back, then make sure he goes straight home. Do not allow him to go back to his office.’

As she went to the cloakroom, Molly wondered how she was supposed to make sure a powerful man like Euan Santiago went straight home. Though he didn’t look so powerful when he was asleep. Or when he was sitting on a desk swinging his feet and laughing about something.

When she went back into the cosy sitting room, Euan was yawning and stretching. ‘Sorry. I must be more tired than I’d realized.’

‘I’m just sorry you’ve had to come out this evening. You should have had an early night.’

Neither of them said much on the drive back, but as he pulled up at the hotel, Euan touched her arm to stop her getting out of the car. ‘Avril approves of you, so if you’re still willing to work for me, could you please go into the office and give her your employment details tomorrow morning? I’ll show you where the office is now. I’ve got a bit of paperwork to catch up on before I go to bed. We have an office suite just off reception. There is a separate entrance, but we mostly keep it locked after office hours, because it’s easier and safer to use the hotel entrance at night.’

She couldn’t think of a tactful way to say it, so blurted it straight out before she lost her nerve. ‘You shouldn’t go back there now. You need to get some sleep.’

‘I can manage without much sleep.’

‘It’s obvious you need more than you’re getting. Besides, I have instructions from Avril to send you straight home after you’ve dropped me. Are you really going to disobey
her
? I wouldn’t.’

He stared at her in surprise, then burst out laughing. ‘No. I wouldn’t dare either. And I am tired. Perhaps . . . Oh, very well, I’ll go straight home. I can always come in early tomorrow.’

‘Not too early.’

‘Yes, ma’am – or do I mean, No, ma’am?’

After they’d got out of the car, he hesitated, as if wondering whether to do the kissy-kissy thing.

Molly took a step backwards. She hadn’t grown up with all this kissing stuff and never felt comfortable having such close contact with complete strangers. And she especially didn’t want meaningless air kisses from Euan. She wanted . . . employment. A professional relationship. And that was all. She’d had enough of high flyers from the business world, however attractive they were physically. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll just watch you drive off.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘Not where work is concerned.’

He chuckled and gave her a mock military salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

She stood there for a few moments, watching the big silver car purr away, then went inside to find the clerk at reception studying her with interest. Nodding a greeting, she headed for the lifts. The clerk could think what he chose. She was longing to sleep. It had been a long, busy day.

It wasn’t till she was lying in bed that she let herself think of what she’d achieved. She’d found a job! She really had.

Or rather, it had found her.

Well, it amounted to the same thing. She beamed into the darkness, vowing to do whatever was necessary to keep the job and prove to the world – no, to herself first and foremost – that she really could stand on her own feet.

To her surprise, for the first time in many years, she realized she didn’t care what her ex said or thought. She was enjoying taking the first hesitant steps towards . . . what? Freedom was such a cliché. So was making your dreams come true. Independence, then. That was what she was seeking.

It’d be best if no one from her family knew where she was, so they couldn’t come and harass her. Especially Craig. She’d never dreamed he’d go so far as to try to rob her of what her house was worth. All the years they’d had together seemed to mean nothing to him, and she’d never forgive him and Tasha for the wedding fiasco.

He hadn’t always been so ruthless. Why had he changed? She didn’t know; didn’t understand him these days. She wasn’t even sure she understood herself, either.

Perhaps she ought to send Jane next door a couple of postcards to forward to Brian and Rachel – no, she wouldn’t do that. Let them worry about her, as she’d worried about them over the years. She wasn’t even going to send them an email to remind them that they still had a way of contacting her.

She was going to build a new life alone and try to find a little quiet happiness.

And anything else would be a bonus.

Seven

Craig looked across the table at Tasha. ‘What do you suppose the silly bitch is doing now?’

‘Who cares? It’s about time you let Molly go.’

‘You were the one who wanted to live in a better address, among older money. My old house is perfect for us.’

Her voice grew noticeably sharper. ‘It’s
her
house now. I repeat: let it go, let
her
go. We can find somewhere else to live.’

‘It’s still the best address in the area,’ Geneva put in. ‘All my friends joke about how the old snobs live in Lavengro Road, but really they’d like to live there too. They were jealous when Brian used to take me there. And it’s a lovely house, Mummy. Or it could be if it were redecorated with your flair. You should see it. Big rooms, but not just squares. I loved it.’

‘Out of the mouths of babes . . .’ Craig said with a smile.

But Tasha merely sniffed and continued to eat her morning yoghurt and fruit slowly.

‘I’ll be out tonight,’ Geneva said. ‘I’m going clubbing with my girl friends.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Tasha put another half spoonful into her mouth.

‘But you let me go clubbing with Brian.’

‘He’s a tall, strong guy and I trusted him to look after you. You’re not going to a club on your own with that drunken bunch you call friends. They don’t even have the sense to elect a driver who can stay sober and get them back safely.’

‘I can catch a taxi back.’

‘Drunk? I think not.’

‘Hello! I
am
twenty-one. If I want to get drunk, I can.’

‘And you’re dependent on me till you’ve finished your studies.’ Tasha laid her spoon down neatly beside her empty yoghurt carton. ‘And do not think you can deceive me about where you’re going or the state you get into.’

Craig watched his wife turn a basilisk stare on her daughter, who scowled down at her own breakfast but didn’t argue back. He had to confess that he didn’t argue with Tasha, either, when she got that look on her face. He decided to change the subject. ‘What’s the agenda for this weekend?’

‘Look in the engagement diary. That’s what it’s for.’ Tasha got up, cleared away her things and left the room. Her heels clicked along the white marble tiles of the corridor, stopped and clicked back again. ‘And do not leave your breakfast dishes lying round. Either of you. I don’t appreciate slovenly clutter in my kitchen.’

When her mother had gone, Geneva rolled her eyes at her stepfather, but he wasn’t getting into any exchange of comments on Tasha. His stepdaughter shrugged and went to get ready for college.

Craig finished the breakfast Tasha had prepared and got himself an extra slice of toast. He sat thinking about his stupid ex. It was all right Tasha saying let it go, but why should he? He had to keep an eye on Molly, under the guise of helping her out, for his children’s sake, or goodness knows what messes she’d get into and maybe drag them into as well. He didn’t want his name blackening because of her.

It’d be a long time before Rachel forgave her. He’d made sure of that.

Where could Molly have gone? And why had she rented out the house she’d sworn before a legal officer of the court that she loved too dearly to leave? He’d better have a drive past on his way to work and see if he could spot the tenant. Maybe he’d recognize him, if Brian thought the fellow looked familiar.

There had to be some way to get the house back. Craig had a rule for his personal life, stemming from when he’d been bullied as a child, that no one ever got the better of him – ever! – without payback. Even if it took years. And
she
wasn’t going to be the first. He had a moral right to that house. Anyway, Molly didn’t
need
it and he did. He’d paid for its maintenance for years, hadn’t he? And it was perfect for a rising man, just as Tasha was the perfect wife for him at this stage of his career.

She was a bit too perfect, perhaps, but it was better than being plump and dowdy. Far better. He was proud to be seen out with Tasha, who was a sleek, elegant creature, and he knew that he was envied by other business acquaintances.

On Monday morning Stuart strolled round the garden, admiring the roses. He’d just stepped behind a holly bush to pick up some rubbish when he heard a car draw up further down the road. It needed servicing, had a faint ticking sound to it that you couldn’t mistake – well, not if you knew anything about cars. He risked a quick glance through the gates and smiled as he confirmed that it was Craig Taylor’s car. Again.

He risked a peep and blessed the excellent long-distance vision you got as you grew older when he recognized Taylor staring at the house through a pair of binoculars. Grinning, he ducked back behind the bush and waited. The hidden camera would catch the car and he’d pick the visual details up from it later. He glanced at his watch. Eight thirty.

He listened hard, but didn’t hear the car drive away, so stood in the bushes for ten long, quiet minutes. Birds sang around him, leaves rustled in a slight breeze and one branch kept brushing his head. Well, he could outwait Taylor. He’d had a lot of practice in waiting patiently. The army certainly taught you to do that.

Wendy came to the door, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked round for him. He signalled with one hand for her to get back inside and she did so without showing any reaction to him. An observer would think she’d failed to find anyone. The only problem was, would Taylor remember Wendy? He’d met them both once or twice, so he might, though her hair had gone completely silver now.

Stuart would rather keep the fellow guessing.

It was another few minutes before the car drove off.

He strolled into the kitchen and gave his wife a smacking kiss on the lips.

‘What was all that skulking in the bushes about?’

‘Taylor was outside in his car, watching the house. I didn’t want him to realize who was renting it.’

‘Does it matter? He’s bound to find out. He must remember us, surely?’

‘His son didn’t. Anyway, I don’t want to make it easy for Taylor. Even if he does recognize us, he won’t find out from me where his ex is. Molly said she’d be in touch once she’d settled somewhere. Until then, I won’t even email her. Let her find her feet in her own time. Mum says her ex is a bully and has been sapping her confidence for years, so I reckon the poor lass deserves some peace and quiet.’ He glanced at the wall clock. ‘I’ll just nip over to Mum’s and see how they are.’