Love Interrupted Page 2

  Chapter Five

  ‘Ted, I couldn’t get the potatoes, so I didn’t make bangers and mash,’ June explained, her hands fanned out in front of her defensively. Ted moved threateningly towards her under the cruel brightness of the kitchen bulb that hung from its electrical cord. Outside, the weather was as wild as Ted’s eyes, teeming with fury.

  Still nursing a stomach ache from this afternoon’s vomiting spell, June prepared herself for the impact. Before she could brace herself adequately, Ted’s drunken frame planted a hefty wallop across her face, taking her clean off her feet. The small woman fell with her forehead hitting the table, sending a chair clattering down with her and skidding across the floor.

  ‘I told you I don’t eat rice!’ Ted bellowed through a foaming mouth reeking of brandy. At sixty-five, Ted was out of shape, his jawline concealed under layers of unshaven fat, and his belly jiggled over the belt of his trousers.

  ‘You will make me some proper bloody dinner woman, or I swear to God you’ll be sorry. I take care of this house; I pay for everything ... yes, even the goddamn cigarettes you suck into your lungs every day. All I ask is a proper fucking meal, and you give me this shit.’

  He picked up the plate of rice and pork sausages, flinging it across the kitchen where it connected with the wall with a mighty crash. The whole floor was covered in food; food June spent half an hour preparing. Now on her knees on the floor, she had no way of shielding herself against his kick burying itself in her ribcage, making her screech like a tortured kitten. Her face contorted in pain, and she felt the sickness of earlier take her once more. Ted stood over her as she spat bile and convulsed on the floor, choking and coughing.

  ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now? Christ, get your act together, June,’ he ranted.

  The empty bottle of Hennessey had fallen on the table when June’s body slammed into it, spilling the last tumbler of alcohol. Ted set it upright before examining the remains of his dinner. June’s head pulsed with dead pain that spread over her skull like a helmet, and her eye ached in the socket as she spat the last of the sour water from her gullet. She dared not look up yet as she heard the clinking of bottles inside the fridge door. They rattled under the force of Ted’s inebriated tug while he violently pulled the door wide open. He belched out loud, took a beer and slammed the door carelessly before walking towards the living room.

  ‘I’m hungry, June. Make it snappy,’ he said nonchalantly as he left the kitchen.

  June wanted to cry, but she physically couldn’t. The abdominal pain she had been suffering for the past few months was only growing worse, and she found that she could hardly stand up straight anymore, let alone spend hours cooking the right food for her abusive husband’s ever-changing preferences. He always ate rice. Now he refused simply because she could not get potatoes for mash. This had been a regular occurrence soon after he’d put a ring on her finger; he’d begun manipulating her actions and using the most ludicrous things as excuses to hurt her. June corrected her posture as best she could and crawled to the cupboard under the sink to get a bucket and cloth for the mess she inadvertently made on the kitchen floor. She could hear him knocking things over in the living room, but she would never go in there now, not for complaint or assistance. June was certain Ted would kill her in a fit of rage eventually. Sometimes she wished he would, if only to rid her of the excruciating abdominal pain she had to endure in silence so as not to set him off.

  After she cleaned up the puke and washed her hands, June started to cook pasta, hoping it would appease her unstable husband. The rain came down just as darkness started to fall, making the sky eerily purple behind the grey clouds that ushered in the darkness over Dorchester. It was a metaphor June did not need to entertain right now, the coming of the night over the land, just like whatever demon ate her entrails was slowly consuming her body.

  June had made the biggest mistake of her life the day she married him. A sweet charmer hiding behind a dark facade. She thought she was doing the right thing, giving her ten-year-old daughter a father that she’d never had. Instead, she’d lost her. In the end, June had no choice but to force her only child out of the family home. It was the only way she could protect her before Ted turned his attention towards her. Somehow, June had managed to hide the domestic abuse. Coming out with plausible stories for a bruise here, a black eye there. The broken ribs were well hidden beneath her clothes. She couldn’t let her know what kind of man she’d brought into their lives. Knowing her strong-willed daughter, she would have tried to make June leave. That would have cost them both of their lives, June was sure. If he’s going to kill me, I pray to God I get to see Harper again before he does.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Cathy,’ Dylan said to her personal assistant, handing her the notes for a statement. ‘On my desk. Two o’clock.’

  Cathy slumped. ‘Eek! Can I finish after lunch? I was supposed to meet my mum.’

  Dylan froze in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Two o’clock, Cathy. No later. See your mother on your time—not mine.’

  ‘If you insist,’ Cathy conceded, reaching for her mobile phone.

  Dylan could feel Cathy’s eyes burning into her back until she kicked the door of her office shut behind her. She no doubt thought Dylan was the Wicked Witch of the East, but she was unapologetic about her demands. That was how she did things. If it had to be done, it had to be done yesterday. It had to be flawless, and no matter what sacrifice was needed, she would lay it on the line. All or nothing, that was Dylan’s approach to her career, and she did not mind cracking skulls to achieve it.

  Dylan’s phone rang and, noting the caller, she picked it up immediately.

  ‘Dylan. My office, please,’ Gregory Maynard requested in his calm authoritarian tone.

  ‘I’ll be right there.’ Dylan replaced the phone on its receiver. She grabbed her notebook and pen from her desk before hurrying out of her office and down the hallway.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ Dylan smiled as she entered his lavish office. ‘I didn’t see you this morning. Big case?’

  ‘Is there any other kind at this practice?’ he asked, closing the door behind her. ‘Please, sit.’

  Dylan sat on the leather seat in front of his desk while Gregory positioned himself on the edge of the desk, propping himself against it and folding his hands in front of him.

  ‘We have a new case,’ he began. ‘A good friend of mine has a daughter who wants a quickie divorce.’ He rubbed his hand through his greying hair, bringing it down to his chin. ‘We “have” to make this happen, Dylan. He’s placing his faith in this firm and me.’ He got up and walked over to the window, staring down from the 8th-floor office, overlooking Temple, London’s legal district.

  ‘Is the father anyone I know?’ she asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

  ‘Max Massey. The CEO of Magenta.’

  ‘The investment company in the Docklands?’

  He turned to face her and raised his dark eyebrows. They conflicted with the short brush of straight grey hair overhanging his forehead. ‘You’ve heard of them?’

  ‘I have, yes, from my time at law school.’ A ripple of self-satisfaction ran through her. ‘So he wants his daughter’s case to be handled as discreetly as possible?’

  ‘Now, see, that is exactly why I know I can rely on you.’ He strode back to his desk. ‘Here’s the file,’ he said, passing her a thin case file she was almost disappointed with. ‘This case needs to be cut and dried. It can’t go to court. A baby is involved, and it just might ruffle a few feathers with the more moral citizens. I don’t want the media getting wind of it.’

  ‘Consider it done,’ she answered, perusing the first few pages.

  Gregory resumed his position, propping himself on the corner of his desk. ‘You know what a favourable outcome for our client will mean?’ he said, his steely look demanding attention.

  ‘We scratch his back, and he’ll scratch ours.’

  ‘Correct. So I want you to impress the
client. I want her to report only good things back to her father,’ he explained, his usual tranquil tone making him sound more like a professor of theology than a deadly advocate.

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ she reassured him.

  ‘Good.’ He nodded. ‘And don’t forget, look into everything.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Gregory continued, ‘We can never afford to be lenient or ignorant, not for a minute, you see?’ His clear blue eyes that belied his age bored into hers. ‘Even the strongest armies have to keep stock of their enemies’ positions. You never know who we might come up against.’ He folded his hands around his bent knee.

  Dylan couldn’t help but smile. On his wedding finger, a single gold band shimmered, confronting the irony of a man who made a living from broken marriages and spousal abuse, bitter custody battles and heartbreak, while he lived in blissful harmony with his wife.

  ‘Understood. I’ll take a look at the file and contact his daughter to set up an appointment,’ Dylan said. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and walked towards the door.

  ‘One more thing, Dylan,’ he said quickly.

  She turned to face him, her eyes remaining fixed and unwavering. ‘Yes?’

  ‘If you get the desired outcome, you’ll be up for Junior Partner.’ He broke out into a grin. ‘That’s how confident I am in your abilities.’

  Dylan beamed, fighting the feelings of dread that flooded her at the same time. Those were the words she had longed for since she started working for the firm. For now, she avoided the immense pressure of Maynard’s expectations and enjoyed the moment.

  ‘Thank you. You know I won’t disappoint you,’ she asserted with a slight bow of her head.

  ‘I know, Dylan, I know. You are my daughter after all.’

  ***

  In her spacious office, Dylan sat at her glass desk and flicked through Robyn Massey’s file. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got here, then?’ she said as she scanned the pages. The case looked simple enough to Dylan. Ms Massey and her soon-to-be ex-wife had been married for five years. A quick glance at Ms Massey’s income showed she was a high earner. One hundred and fifty grand a year. Dylan let out a low whistle. Not bad for working for Daddy. The child in question was three months old. Robyn Massey wasn’t the biological mother although her name was on the birth certificate. Dylan scanned the rest of the pages, checking to see who was representing Robyn’s wife.

  That’s strange. No solicitor. Open and shut for sure. Why on earth would it be handed to me? Not that she cared. The quicker the win, the faster she moved up the work ladder. She continued reading, noting quickly that Robyn Massey’s previous solicitor had only filed a divorce petition. There was one problem concerning maintenance for the baby. Her new client wanted to absolve herself of any responsibility.

  Dylan cupped a hand to her chin. ‘Hmm, this could be interesting after all.’ Before she could plan her strategy, she would need full disclosure on the arrangements the couple made regarding the pregnancy—before and after. As well as any affairs or transgressions, something Dylan knew most people were reluctant to share, to the detriment of the case outcome.

  She put her feet up on the desk and read carefully. Piece by piece, she picked apart the circumstances of the case, as she always did. This way, she could find discrepancies more easily and reshuffle the facts. This was called spinning—twisting the facts to serve the purpose of the spinner’s intentions, and Dylan was a master of it.

  A knock on the door revealed Cathy. In her hand, she held a folder with the statement she had completed during her lunch break.

  ‘Ah! Thanks, Cathy,’ Dylan said curtly. ‘This one will have to wait now. We have a new client that gets preference over Mr Wallow.’

  Cathy’s mouth fell open when Dylan took the folder and tossed it into the ‘To Do’ tray for later attention.

  Looking at Cathy with one eyebrow slightly raised, Dylan asked, ‘What?’

  Cathy’s cheeks turned scarlet. ‘Nothing. Nothing. I’ll have a quick snack in the kitchen, if you don’t mind, having missed lunch to finish your urgent work.’

  Dylan answered very cordially, ‘Of course, Cathy. Take all the time you need. You deserve it.’

  Cathy’s eyes widened, but she remained silent as she turned on her heel and left.

  Dylan sank back in her chair, smiling at her personal assistant’s futile exasperation, before returning her attention to the file.

  Chapter Seven

  Abi crept into Jake’s bedroom. The baby slept like a rock, unmoved, apart from the tiniest light snore. He didn’t seem bothered by the small, cramped space into which she’d managed to squeeze his wooden cot. Nor the drab pine furnishings that surrounded him. In an attempt to brighten the place, Abi had painted the walls in a soothing pastel colour and hung animated pictures of animals and teddy bears. It wasn’t perfect, but for now, it would have to do.

  Abi tucked Jake’s blue blanket under his chin and rested the palm of her hand against his cheek. Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought of leaving him. ‘Don’t worry, little one, Auntie Tia’s here.’ She spoke softly as she leant into the cot and kissed his forehead. ‘She’ll take care of you while Mummy’s at work.’

  It was hard to believe that at one stage a baby was the last thing Abi wanted. Until the age of thirty-eight, she was the sole carer for her elderly parents. When they both died within six months of each other, despite her grief, she was relieved her caring days were over and was looking forward to only having herself to think about. It would have remained the case had she not met Robyn.

  She heard a creak behind her, and the door opened. Abi’s sister edged into the room and stood beside her. Tia was slightly taller than Abi with a mass of frizzy blonde hair trailing halfway down her back.

  ‘Why don’t you let him sleep a bit longer? I’ll look after him here today. He looks so peaceful and angelic.’

  Abi tilted her head and sighed. ‘I know. And to think if it wasn’t for Robyn’s insistence on us having a child, he wouldn’t even be here.’ She snorted. ‘I thought I’d finally made it, Tia, despite all the odds. Instead, I’m working two dead-end jobs, I’ve got bills coming out my arse I can’t afford to pay, and all the responsibility of being a single mum. Some fairy tale ending, aye?’

  Tia bumped her shoulder. ‘Come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t to know that Robyn would turn out to be the lowest of the low.’ Tia glanced down at Jake, then whispered, ‘All that matters is something good came out of the whole sorry mess.’

  Abi nodded her head in agreement. Yes, I have Jake, if nothing else. ‘Do you think I’ll ever figure Robyn out?’

  ‘Why do you need to?’

  ‘I dunno. I mean, it’s fair enough if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, but what’s Jake done?’

  Tia gripped Abi’s hand. ‘Maybe Robyn’s just an arsehole. Who knows and, to be honest, who cares? Some people can’t cope when kids come into the picture. But do you know what? That’s her problem, not yours.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you this before, but as soon as I became pregnant, Robyn wanted me to have an abortion. That’s despite it being her idea. Explain that one if you can.’ Abi sighed. ‘Apparently I pressured her into parenthood.’

  Abi still couldn’t believe the juvenile capacity by which Robyn, a normally intelligent person, could determine such a thing.

  Tia’s expression faltered just a fraction. ‘What a bitch. And there I was thinking her cheating on you with that slut was as low as she’d go.’

  Abi’s jaw tensed at the mention of Robyn’s unfaithfulness. The thought of Robyn and her young lover made her feel physically sick. She fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice when she spoke. ‘It’s a pity Robyn doesn’t share your morals.’

  ‘Let’s hope karma bites her in her fat arse. If it’s true what I heard about her girlfriend, it will, tenfold.’

  A breath hitched in Abi’s throat as she envisioned the two of them. Happy and in love,
with not a care in the world. There was no worse feeling than the sting of realising that your wife was loving someone else, and you had now become invisible. A close second was being left alone to deal with all the responsibilities because you and your child simply became inconvenient. The irony amazed her sometimes; how the very thing she never wanted, the perceived bane of her existence, became the one thing that kept her going—the one thing that inspired her and would love her unconditionally.

  ‘Like you keep telling me, I just need to take one day at a time and stop thinking so far ahead.’

  Tia placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s right, so no more moping about, alright? Get some fire in your belly. Let that bitch know you’re not gonna be her doormat anymore. I know the old Abi’s in there dying to get out.’

  ‘Please, less of the old. My creaking joints are the only proof I need to know I’m no spring chicken.’

  ‘Young, old, it doesn’t matter. You’ll meet someone one day. In the meantime, you need to get Robyn out of your head.’

  Abi raised a smile, but there was no humour in it. ‘That’s easier said than done, believe me.’

  Despite what her head told her, Abi still missed Robyn—her Robyn. She missed being loved, the companionship, and the feeling of being important to someone. But she knew in her heart Robyn wouldn’t be coming back to her. It was over. Their once sweet love had gone sour, no matter how she wished it was otherwise.

  ‘Nothing lasts forever, Abi. Not even heartache.’

  Abi leant into the cot and pecked Jake’s chubby cheek, then pushed herself back to a standing position. ‘Anyway, enough of this. I’d better go and get ready for work.’ She made for the doorway, turning to face Tia before stepping out into the dank, dark hallway. ‘You’re the only one that’s been there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’