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‘No!’ I look over at boring Sal and instantly register that she is, in fact, boring Sal again. I cave on the inside for her. ‘Who then?’ Kate’s impatient voice relieves my eyes of boring, suicidal Sal and pulls me back to her pressing need for answers.
‘Coral.’
‘Fuck off!’
‘No, Coral is pregnant and that’s not all.’ I’m teasing when I really don’t need to. I have her full attention and shock. She’s heard nothing yet. ‘And she claims it’s Jesse’s’
‘WHAT?’
I pull my phone away from my ear, certain that the whole office, perhaps even the whole of London, heard her. ‘It’s not, though.’
‘Wait, wait wait.’ She’s gesturing with her hands in my mind’s eye, and I hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair across her kitchen floor. She’s sitting herself down. ‘Coral’s pregnant?’
‘Yes,’
‘And she claims its Jesse’s?’
‘Yes,’ I open my email as I answer, all casual and not at all affected by Kate’s shock. I’m over it.
‘But it’s not?’
‘Nope,’
‘How do you know?’ She asks the question prudently, but it’s a fair one, and I highly expected it.
‘Because she tried to pass off a peanut as a walnut.’
‘What the f**king hell are you on about?’
I sigh and continue absentmindedly scrolling my email account. ‘She has a scan picture. She’s claiming it’s a four month scan, but it’s clearly not and she’s cut all of the evidence away - the date, everything.’
‘The crafty f**king bitch! Is she that desperate?’
‘Very. She’s four-ish weeks, maximum. The last time Jesse slept with the tramp was over four months ago. I swear to God, Kate, I was this…’
‘Hold up!’
‘What?’
‘Fucking hell! SAM!’ she shrieks, and I jump in my chair. ‘SAM!’
‘Will you stop yelling in my ear?’ I snap, hearing thundering footsteps down the line, then the sound of a door crashing open. There’s the mumbled, sleepy voice of Sam, and the high pitched, wide awake shriek of Kate. I can hear neither. Sam is too quiet and Kate is so loud, she’s all distorted. ‘Kate?’
‘Ava, f**king hell!’
I’m losing my rag now. ‘Stop your shouting and talk to me.’
‘Okay,’ she pants. ‘Drew slept with Coral.’
I sit up in my chair. ‘When?’
‘Oh, about four or five weeks ago.’ she says casually, which is a million miles away from the last few moments of frantic shouting and blurting of words.
‘How do you know?’
‘Sam told me. Drew was rat arsed, Coral nabbed him. The poor bloke knew nothing about it and probably wouldn’t if Sam hadn’t have turned up at his place. He caught her sneaking out.’
‘Oh shit,’ I’m not scrolling my email casually anymore. I’m tapping my pen wildly on the side of my desk. ‘How did she think she’d get away with it? I mean, the baby would be three months overdue!’
‘Desperate people do desperate things, my friend.’ She’s calmed right down. ‘Sam’s on the phone to him now. Are you okay? That must have been a shock, even if she was lying.’
‘Yeah, I’m used to shock with Jesse.’ I brush it off with the apathy the whole episode deserves. Drew won’t be, though.
‘Good. You need to be careful now, don’t you?’ She asks it sweetly as a question, but there is a tinge of menace in there, too.
‘I do, I am, and I will. Listen, I’d better go. Patrick’s got the hump with me and Tom, Sal and Victoria all look like someone’s slapped them in the face. Lunch tomorrow?’
‘Perfect. Call me.’ She hangs up, and I cast a sceptical gaze around my office. It’s only ever this quiet when I’m here on my own. I glance over my shoulder to Patrick’s office and see his door shut and whilst I’m dying to call Jesse and off load my new knowledge, I would be pushing my luck further. I know Sam will be calling him up, anyway. I should prep for my meeting with Ruth Quinn.
* * *
At eleven thirty, no one has spoken still, Patrick hasn’t come out of his office and I’m feeling nervous when I knock on Patrick’s door. I don’t just open it like I usually would. I wait for his okay and when it comes, I poke my head around and smile sweetly. ‘I have a noon appointment with Miss Quinn.’
‘Fine. You need to be back by two. We’re having a meeting.’ His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t look at me, choosing to keep his attention on the screen of his computer.
‘Okay,’ I shut the door with care and leave the office bewildered and concerned. A meeting? A meeting to discuss my lack of job commitment lately, no doubt, and bizarrely, I’m not even that concerned.
I’m greeted by a moped courier at the door. ‘Delivery for Ava O’Shea.’ His voice is muffled through his helmet, which he hasn’t taken off.
‘That’s me.’ I murmur apprehensively, the sound of my maiden name sending a chill down my spine.
‘Sign here, please.’ He thrusts a clipboard under my nose and I sign away, taking an envelope from him when I’m done. I don’t want to accept this delivery, but when John pulls up, I try my hardest to appear natural when I really should be appearing exasperated at the big guy’s arrival. The courier jumps on his bike and zooms off down the road without another muffled word. It’s not until John leans over and pushes the passenger door open that I realise I’m frozen in place, still with the envelope in my hand.
