Read Online Every Time We Say Goodbye by Colette Caddle - Free Book Online
Authors: Colette Caddle
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tea?’
‘Yes please, and if you want to, we can check out those slimming clubs after dinner.’
‘That would be great, thanks.’ Di was such a good kid when she wasn’t in a sulk, Jo thought, smiling as she hurried back upstairs to the bathroom to make room for dinner.
When Greg arrived home, the bolognese sauce was ready and a pot of water was bubbling in preparation for the pasta when Rachel returned.
‘Where is she?’ he asked irritably, when Jo told him why dinner wasn’t ready.
‘At Tracy’s birthday party; she should be home in ten minutes.’
‘Oh.’ His whole attitude changed immediately and he nodded in approval. ‘I’ll go down and collect her.’
‘There’s no need,’ Jo said, but he was already walking into the hall and she watched as he paused in front of the mirror, smoothed his hair and straightened his tie before he left. She imagined Jools and Jim Donovan’s amusement at his obvious attempt to break into their circle and felt a bit sorry for him. Why was he such a social climber? Why did he feel the need to keep up with the Joneses, or, in this case, the Donovans? He was clever and successful too; she couldn’t begin to understand why he felt the need to crawl to the likes of them. Still, she couldn’t understand Greg much at all these days.
Chapter Six
Marianne swung her legs out of her car, smoothed the skirt of her suit over her hips before collecting her bag, locking the car and crossing the tree-lined avenue to the imposing premises of Matthews and Baldwin. There was something about this office that had always intimidated her. Whether it was the location in the exclusive south-city neighbourhood, the plush reception area with its floor-to-ceiling oak panelling or the haughty receptionists, she didn’t know, but Marianne never felt welcome here and she was quite happy that her ties with the company would soon be cut.
Adrian Matthews kept her waiting for over twenty minutes and by the time she was shown into his office, her smile was strained.
‘Thank you for coming in to see me,’ he said from the other side of his vast oak desk.
Marianne looked at her husband’s boss with his solemn gaze, his iron-grey hair and impeccable grey suit; grey seemed to sum the man up. His expression was forbidding and his tone clipped and formal.
‘I was on the point of contacting you myself,’ she told him. ‘There seems to be a lot of Dominic’s personal papers missing; I’m assuming that he kept them here.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe that we have anything here of that nature, but I’m afraid, even if we did, I couldn’t let you have them.’
‘Excuse me?’ Marianne said, not sure she could believe her ears.
‘Mrs Thomson—’
‘Marianne, please,’ she said, surprised at the formal address.
‘Since Dominic’s death, we have uncovered a number of . . .’ he paused, ‘ discrepancies in his client accounts.’
Marianne looked at him in confusion. Whatever his personal troubles, Dominic was good at his job; he’d achieved the junior partner position at an early age and been entrusted with some of the company’s largest accounts, a fact that he’d been very proud of.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ she said, making her tone as grave as his, ‘and obviously I can’t comment; he never really discussed his work with me. It is purely papers relating to our own private financial affairs that I want; I’m afraid he left his affairs in somewhat of a mess, but then I suppose he wasn’t expecting to die so young.’
Matthews’ eyes widened. ‘I don’t mean to pry, my dear, but are you facing financial problems?’
Marianne felt herself flush. ‘Money is tighter than I expected but I’m assuming that Dominic has a bank account or two that I don’t know about. I’m embarrassed at how little I actually know about our financial affairs,’ she confessed, smiling.
Matthews didn’t return the smile, instead he simply stared at her from under his heavy
‘Yes please, and if you want to, we can check out those slimming clubs after dinner.’
‘That would be great, thanks.’ Di was such a good kid when she wasn’t in a sulk, Jo thought, smiling as she hurried back upstairs to the bathroom to make room for dinner.
When Greg arrived home, the bolognese sauce was ready and a pot of water was bubbling in preparation for the pasta when Rachel returned.
‘Where is she?’ he asked irritably, when Jo told him why dinner wasn’t ready.
‘At Tracy’s birthday party; she should be home in ten minutes.’
‘Oh.’ His whole attitude changed immediately and he nodded in approval. ‘I’ll go down and collect her.’
‘There’s no need,’ Jo said, but he was already walking into the hall and she watched as he paused in front of the mirror, smoothed his hair and straightened his tie before he left. She imagined Jools and Jim Donovan’s amusement at his obvious attempt to break into their circle and felt a bit sorry for him. Why was he such a social climber? Why did he feel the need to keep up with the Joneses, or, in this case, the Donovans? He was clever and successful too; she couldn’t begin to understand why he felt the need to crawl to the likes of them. Still, she couldn’t understand Greg much at all these days.
Chapter Six
Marianne swung her legs out of her car, smoothed the skirt of her suit over her hips before collecting her bag, locking the car and crossing the tree-lined avenue to the imposing premises of Matthews and Baldwin. There was something about this office that had always intimidated her. Whether it was the location in the exclusive south-city neighbourhood, the plush reception area with its floor-to-ceiling oak panelling or the haughty receptionists, she didn’t know, but Marianne never felt welcome here and she was quite happy that her ties with the company would soon be cut.
Adrian Matthews kept her waiting for over twenty minutes and by the time she was shown into his office, her smile was strained.
‘Thank you for coming in to see me,’ he said from the other side of his vast oak desk.
Marianne looked at her husband’s boss with his solemn gaze, his iron-grey hair and impeccable grey suit; grey seemed to sum the man up. His expression was forbidding and his tone clipped and formal.
‘I was on the point of contacting you myself,’ she told him. ‘There seems to be a lot of Dominic’s personal papers missing; I’m assuming that he kept them here.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe that we have anything here of that nature, but I’m afraid, even if we did, I couldn’t let you have them.’
‘Excuse me?’ Marianne said, not sure she could believe her ears.
‘Mrs Thomson—’
‘Marianne, please,’ she said, surprised at the formal address.
‘Since Dominic’s death, we have uncovered a number of . . .’ he paused, ‘ discrepancies in his client accounts.’
Marianne looked at him in confusion. Whatever his personal troubles, Dominic was good at his job; he’d achieved the junior partner position at an early age and been entrusted with some of the company’s largest accounts, a fact that he’d been very proud of.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ she said, making her tone as grave as his, ‘and obviously I can’t comment; he never really discussed his work with me. It is purely papers relating to our own private financial affairs that I want; I’m afraid he left his affairs in somewhat of a mess, but then I suppose he wasn’t expecting to die so young.’
Matthews’ eyes widened. ‘I don’t mean to pry, my dear, but are you facing financial problems?’
Marianne felt herself flush. ‘Money is tighter than I expected but I’m assuming that Dominic has a bank account or two that I don’t know about. I’m embarrassed at how little I actually know about our financial affairs,’ she confessed, smiling.
Matthews didn’t return the smile, instead he simply stared at her from under his heavy
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