‘Why do I get the impression this is not necessarily because you care about Clare?’
‘You’re very perceptive,’ says Tom. ‘I must congratulate you. Put it this way, love and hate are very close friends. If this little part of the plan doesn’t work out, then it’s okay, I have a Plan B.’
‘You’re one sick bastard.’
‘I just like winning.’
‘I’ve gotta go. Marion’s car has just pulled up on the drive.’
‘Don’t let me down, Martha, and if you do really well I might actually give you that pay rise after all.’
I hear the line go dead, but Tom hasn’t cancelled the recording yet as I hear him mutter to himself. ‘Silly fucking bitch.’ Then the recording ends.
I hold my head in my hand. I can hardly believe what I’ve just heard. If anyone was to give me all this information, then I would say that they were completely crazy. That I trust Tom implicitly. That I’ve been friends with him for years and he would never betray me.
The sound of a car horn tooting and the engine revving somewhere out on the street knocks me from my thoughts and I suddenly think of Tom. He’ll be back any minute now.
My heart is racing as I snatch the memory stick from the USB port. I go to put it in the box with the others, but change my mind. This is evidence. I shove it into the pocket of my trousers. Then I remember Tom saying that he had recorded his previous conversation with Martha. There was only one recording on this memory stick, which means there must be another. I search the box, but I can’t see one annotated in the same way.
The sound of the front door opening and Tom whistling as he comes in causes me to nearly drop the bloody box again. I shove it back on the side and hurriedly stand up.
‘Clare! You okay? I’ve got the wine!’
I dart out of the small bedroom and into the bathroom next door, my shaking hand only just managing to slide the lock across.
His voice is getting closer. He’s come through the living room and into the hallway.
‘Just a minute,’ I call as I flush the chain for effect and, looking in the mirror check I don’t look too flustered, I take a deep, steadying breath as I push down on the handle and pull the door open. I fix a smile. ‘Just needed the loo,’ I say, aware there’s a small tremor in my voice.
‘Thought you’d done a runner,’ he says with a wink and then waves two bottles of red wine he’s holding in each hand. ‘Buy one, get one free. It would have been rude not to.’
‘Naturally,’ I say, as I follow him back to the living room.
‘Where’s your glass?’ says Tom as he opens the first bottle.
It’s then I remember that I’ve left it in the small bedroom when I was listening to the recording. ‘Erm … Oh, err, the bedroom,’ I say, aware that I’m stumbling over my words. ‘I had it in my hand when I went to use the bathroom. I just shoved it on the desk on my way through.’ I stand. ‘I’ll get it.’
‘No, it’s okay. Sit there. I’ll get it,’ insists Tom.
He returns a few seconds later with two wine glasses hooked between his fingers. ‘New bottle, new glass, I always say.’
I don’t actually remember Tom ever saying that, but I don’t argue as I watch him set the glasses down and open the wine. ‘Just a small glass for me,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t really be drinking.’
Despite this, Tom pours a full glass and hands it to me. ‘Did you have another look at those files?’ His question catches me by surprise. He doesn’t look up as he pours himself a glass.
‘I thought about it, but decided I really wouldn’t understand them. You’re the numbers man, not me.’ I’m aware of an undercurrent passing between us, one that wasn’t there before. I take a small sip of wine as we both pretend everything is normal. All I want to do is get out of here.
‘Cheers,’ says Tom, raising his glass.
‘Cheers,’ I respond with a faux smile.
Tom tugs his tie loose and unbuttons his collar. ‘Think I’ll get out of this shirt and tie.’ He comes back into the room a few minutes later wearing a grey T-shirt. I can smell the fresh dash of aftershave he’s applied. ‘There, that’s better. You not drinking your wine?’
‘No. My head’s hurting a bit, actually.’
‘Come on, it will do you good.’ He slides the glass I had abandoned on the table towards me.
‘No, really, I’m fine.’
And then, out of nowhere, I remember what was bugging me earlier when Tom spoke about the accident. It seemed irrelevant at the time, so much so I must have totally forgotten about it. The thought has finally filtered through and popped to the fore of my brain with the force of an uppercut from a heavyweight boxer. It literally throws me off balance and I close my eyes for a second as I feel my body sway to the left and then back to the centre.
‘You okay?’ asks Tom. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Chapter 29
‘You were at the accident, weren’t you?’