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‘It’s him,’ said Stella, softly. ‘It has to be. So, no one else knows about this?’
‘No. I’ve changed all the passcodes in the meantime, just to make sure no one else has access to the accounts. Is there anything else we need to do now?’
Stella pressed the tips of her fingers together, looking at the screen. ‘We’ll have to tell the board members, but not just yet.’ Much as she wanted to call the police there and then, for Simon to be found and punished accordingly, at the same time she didn’t want to put the children through any more than they’d already had to endure. Their father leaving was hard enough. Knowing he’d stolen from them made Stella feel like he was stamping on her already shattered heart for good measure. ‘I just need some time to think and I’ll let you know. In the meantime, please can we keep this between us.’
Lily nodded. ‘Of course. I’m sorry, Stella.’
‘It’s not for you to apologise. Thank goodness you spotted it in the first place.’
Later that afternoon, as she sat in her office going through her emails, Stella found herself typing Emily Parker’s name into the search bar on Instagram again. Looking at the face smiling back at her from a windswept beach, Stella studied it closely. ‘What do you know?’ she whispered.
Just then, one of her sales team knocked on the door, reminding her they had a meeting about potential new accounts in the diary. ‘I’ll be there in two minutes, thanks, Jemma.’
As they sat round the large white oval desk in the middle of the office going through the list of forthcoming meetings, a new name popped up.
‘Haven’t we been trying to get in the door with them for a while?’ asked Stella.
‘Yes,’ said Jemma, ‘but they saw the piece you did in the paper a few weeks ago and got in touch. Turns out they’re expanding and would like a meeting with you, whenever you can make it.’
'Whereabouts are they?’ Stella had a feeling she knew.
‘Glasgow,’ said Lily. ‘They supply loads of independent shops across Scotland.’
Stella looked at Jemma and nodded. ‘Let’s get it in my diary as soon as we can. No time like the present and all that.’
* * *
A week later, Stella sat at her kitchen table, Bridget, Lucy and Sarah all staring at her. Since Simon left, they’d insisted on doing book club at Stella’s house. They said it was so that she didn’t need to worry about organising a babysitter, but Stella suspected it was more so they could keep an eye on her and make sure the house wasn’t a complete tip.
She’d just told them about her plan to go to Mull and find Emily Parker and by the looks on their faces, they clearly all thought she’d lost it.
‘I can’t believe you’re actually going!’ Bridget practically choked on her mouthful of crisps.
‘So, what else do you know about this Emily?’ asked Lucy, still slack-jawed.
‘Look, I’m sure you’re all thinking this trip isn’t going to solve anything, but I’m not expecting it to, I promise. At the very least, I’m thinking it might just help me move on a little bit, hopefully. And I really, really want to be able to do that.’ Stella raised her glass. ‘Anyway, cheers.’ She took a sip of her wine.
‘Stella, don’t change the subject. What have you found out about her?’ said Sarah, pulling the crisp bowl towards her and scooping up some houmous on a crisp.
‘You really want to know?’ said Stella, putting her glass back down on the table.
‘Yes!’ they all chorused as one.
‘Well, she’s a chef at a hotel there. She’s been there for a few years according to the website, but her bio mentions that she’s worked in quite a few places on the West Coast. The hotel looks gorgeous, actually, it’s an old castle on the north coast of the island.’
‘So, will you just go to the hotel?’ Sarah asked.
‘I thought I’d stay for the night after my meeting in Glasgow.’
‘What if she’s not there?’ Lucy motioned for the bowl of crisps from Bridget.
‘Well, then I guess I just have a nice night in a hotel in a place I’ve never been before. So, it doesn’t really matter. If she’s there, great. If she’s not, then…’ Stella tailed off.
‘Then what?’ said Sarah. ‘Stella, are you sure about this?’
‘Honestly, it’s fine. If she’s not, then I’ll take it that it wasn’t meant to be. But if she is, I’ll just ask her a few questions. No big deal.’ Stella stood up and opened the oven door, checking the roasting chicken. ‘Anyway, I want to hear how your week’s been. Bridge, you first, what’s going on?’
‘Oh, nothing really. Usual. Work, sleep, repeat.’ Bridget shrugged. ‘Florence feels like a dream. I wish we could have stayed. I felt so inspired there. Talking of which, do you want to see the photos?’
