Forgive and Forget Read online

  He sighed deeply. If they ever bought another house, and it looked as if Aimee would like to, she’d be the one whose salary would get them the bigger loan and she’d be the one paying the lion’s share of the mortgage. He hated the idea of it. It made him feel less of a man somehow. He knew that was a ridiculous notion in this day and age, but deep down he couldn’t deny that that was the way he felt. Not that he’d ever admit it to a sinner. Was it just him, or did other men in his position feel the same?

  He couldn’t stay skulking in the kitchen for the rest of the night. He had a busy day ahead of him and he was tired. He rinsed his cup, switched off the light and walked back down the hall to the bedroom. He lay near the edge of his side of their bed, wishing that Aimee was in Milan so that he could have the bed to himself. They lay with their backs to each other, each seething with resentment, until weariness overcame them and they slept, not touching once for the rest of the night.

  He heard her alarm clock go off at five but he pretended to be asleep as she moved quietly around the bedroom. For the first time in their marriage he let her go without raising his head from the pillow for a goodbye kiss.

  Sometimes his wife was too cocky and too judgemental for her own good, he thought angrily as he heard the front door close and silence descend on the apartment.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘A word with you, please, in my office,’ Judith Baxter said coldly as Debbie clocked in and headed for her desk. Debbie’s heart sank. She hadn’t been at work for two minutes and already Batty Baxter was on her back. She was certain sure Judith didn’t want to ask how her health was.

  ‘Certainly, Judith,’ she said with exaggerated politeness, which wasn’t lost on the older woman, whose lips thinned into a straight line as she marched into her office. Debbie followed, throwing her eyes up to heaven as she caught her colleague Carina Brennan’s sympathetic gaze.

  ‘Close the door please,’ Judith instructed crisply.

  Oh no! thought Debbie, obeying reluctantly. This is going to be a real telling-off.

  ‘Sit down please.’

  Debbie was tempted to say that she’d prefer to stand, but there was no point in antagonizing her boss even further. Judith had it in for her for some reason, and taking two days sick hadn’t helped. But she could have been sick, for all Judith knew, she thought sourly as she composed her features and faced her boss.

  ‘I trust you’re feeling better.’ Judith arched an eyebrow.

  ‘Actually, no, I still feel a bit ropey, to tell you the truth,’ Debbie said calmly. She wasn’t lying. Her stomach was fluttering like a thousand butterfly wings, although she wouldn’t give Judith the satisfaction of knowing that she was making her feel nervous.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Judith was clearly unimpressed.

  What she wouldn’t give to barf right in front of her, Debbie thought nastily, fighting the urge to fidget. This was worse than school. An old memory of being told to stand for the rest of her maths class came back to her, and her tummy lurched. It was a horrible feeling, being at someone’s mercy.

  Judith lowered her reading glasses down her nose and stared out over the top of them. ‘I’ll get to the point, as you have a lot of catching up to do today. As you probably know, it’s time for your staff review and assessment for your annual salary increment and, having given the matter a lot of thought, I cannot, in all honesty, recommend that you get one this year. I’m recommending deferring it for six months, at least, to see if your performance improves.’

  Debbie was stunned. This was the last thing she’d been expecting.

  ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘I’m a very good worker, Judith. I was depending on that money. I’m getting married this year. I need the extra cash. I was banking on it,’ she said heatedly.

  ‘I’m afraid your personal life is no concern of mine, Debbie. But your work behaviour is. You’re constantly running in the door, late. You chat too much to your colleagues and you’ve taken five casual sick days this year and it’s only May. That’s not the type of behaviour I expect from an employee in this department and I would be failing in my duty to the company if I were to recommend you for a raise. As I say, I’ve suggested a six-month postponement to give you a chance to improve your performance.’

  ‘That’s not fair. Why are you picking on me?’ Debbie jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t deserve this. I’m very conscientious in my job. This will go on my record if I want to go for promotion.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Judith said icily. ‘You don’t just swan into positions in this company. You earn your promotion and, when you’ve proved to me that you’ve earned your increment, you’ll get it. And I object both to your tone and your term. I do not pick on people. Now, I suggest you go out to your desk and start your day’s work.’

  Debbie bit her lip. She wanted to shriek at the other woman and tell her she was a mean, spiteful bitch but she knew that would be fatal. She needed her job more than ever after the extravagances of the past few days. Judith Baxter had her over a barrel whether she liked it or not, and she had no option but to put up with her crap.

  ‘Well! What are you waiting for? I have work to do, if you don’t,’ Judith said coldly and bent her head to a file in front of her.

  Debbie picked up her bag and walked out of the office, trying hard not to cry. She wouldn’t give that bitch the gratification of seeing her crying. Carina winked at her, but she was too upset to wink back, and she hurried to her desk and logged on to her computer.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Carina’s email winged its way to her.

  ‘No, that fucking bitch has stopped my increment, I hate her guts,’ Debbie emailed back.

  ‘Poor you. I’ll treat you to lunch. Don’t mind the frigid old cow,’ Carina emailed back sympathetically. Judith’s door opened and Debbie hastily deleted the email; she knew by Carina’s bent head that she was doing the same to hers.

  ‘Debbie, I need you to make sure that the correct amount has been paid into these six bank accounts for employees who will be getting their increments next week. Please change the payroll amounts to correspond with these figures,’ Judith ordered sweetly, handing her a sheet of paper.

  ‘Certainly,’ Debbie said brightly. ‘No problem. I’ll attend to it straight away.’

  Judith’s eyes narrowed at her defiant tone. ‘See that you do,’ she snapped and stalked back to her office.

  Debbie Adams was a cheeky little bitch, that was for sure. Judith scowled as she sat behind her desk and stared out at the other woman, who was busy keying in figures at her computer.

  It had felt good telling her that she was withholding her increment. Judith could see the frustration and anger in Debbie’s eyes as she’d fought not to argue back, afraid of where that might lead. She’d enjoyed watching her struggling to compose herself. And the sense of power she’d felt, seeing the desperation in Debbie Adams’ eyes when she began to realize that she was not going to get the money she’d been expecting.

  She was only doing her job, Judith told herself. If she went around giving out increments willy-nilly, to employees who didn’t deserve them, she’d have to do some explaining to her own department head. If Debbie Adams was as conscientious as she maintained she was she’d have got her raise without question. It was time for her to pull up her socks and prove that she deserved it, Judith thought self-righteously, trying to forget the younger woman’s indignant accusation that she was ‘picking’ on her. It rankled, even though she wouldn’t admit it and, suddenly, the buzz of reprimanding Debbie faded and Judith felt utterly weary.

  What a bummer of a day it had been. Debbie sighed as she trudged out of Sandymount Dart station and headed home. Losing her increment for the next six months was a mini disaster. The increase would at least have paid the interest on her credit cards and kept them at bay. She’d better keep that news to herself. Bryan was still on a high after their trip to Amsterdam. If she started whingeing and moaning he’d come crashing right back down and probably suggest postponing the wedding again, a
nd she wasn’t going through all that again.

  Her father had texted her to tell her that Aimee was away and he needed to pick up Melissa. He’d wondered could she oblige him by meeting in Costa Coffee close to his apartment around eight p.m., if it suited her. She was more than welcome to meet at the apartment if she wished.

  She’d hastily texted back to say that Costa Coffee would be fine. It would be much easier for her to say what she had to say on neutral territory.

  Her stomach was tied up in knots at the thought of the meeting. Should she have just left things as they were and pretended to Bryan that all was OK between herself and her father? But what was the point of that? It wasn’t going to be much of a marriage if she kept having to hide things from Bryan. It was bad enough not being able to have a good moan to him about her increment. She’d give her cousin Jenna a ring later and arrange to meet her for a drink and get it all off her chest. She could tell Jenna anything, she thought gratefully. She was lucky to have her in her life. She was like a sister.

  She let herself into the house and hurried upstairs to shower and change. What did you wear to a make or break meeting with your father, she wondered as she flicked through her wardrobe. It was cool and overcast so she decided on a pair of white jeans and a loose black knitted top. The shower helped ease away the tension that was tightening the muscles around her neck and shoulders and she stood, eyes closed for a minute, in the steaming heat and felt herself relax a little. Meeting her father couldn’t be any worse than her encounter with Bitchy Baxter, she sighed as she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

  She was just putting the finishing touches to her make-up when she heard Bryan’s key in the front door.

  ‘Hey, babes, you still here?’ she heard him call.

  ‘Yeah,’ she called back and smiled as he bounded up the stairs.

  ‘Nice!’ he whistled. ‘What time are you meeting your dad?’

  ‘Eight. In Costa Coffee in Dun Laoghaire.’

  ‘Will I drop you over?’

  ‘I think I’d be as quick on the Dart – the traffic looked pretty heavy when I was coming home.’ Debbie traced some lip-gloss over her lips.

  ‘Just as well I know it’s your dad you’re meeting or I’d be jealous,’ Bryan teased as he watched her spray some Eternity on her neck and wrists.

  ‘Well, I’d need to wear some perfume, one of those cheeses is stinking. I’ll probably have a carriage to myself on the train.’ She grinned as she picked up her handbag.

  ‘You’ve plenty of time. Come on and have a glass of wine with me, it will relax you a bit. I know you, you’re tense.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Bryan took her left hand; her fingers were curled tightly in her palm, the nails digging into her skin.

  ‘Chill, babes, it’s only your dad,’ he said kindly as they made their way downstairs.

  ‘Only my dad,’ she repeated as she sat at the small circular table on the deck while Bryan poured the wine.

  Its cold tartness was refreshing and she sipped it appreciatively, wishing she could spend the rest of the evening sitting with Bryan, relaxing and drinking wine. Ten minutes later she stood up to go – she wanted the ordeal to be over. The sooner she met her father, the sooner she’d be home.

  ‘I’ll cook us some fajitas. Text me when you get on the train in Dun Laoghaire, OK?’ He hugged her.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed, wishing she could tell him that she’d changed her mind and that she didn’t want to go, and wishing she could tell him about losing her increment.

  ‘Great stuff,’ her fiancé said cheerfully, and she knew that the minute she was out the door he’d be sitting at his computer playing Sudoku games with not a care in the world.

  Her palms were sweating as much as the cheese in the gift box that she’d taken from the fridge. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose as she paid for her return ticket in the Dart station. The monitor said there’d be a train in four minutes, so she walked slowly down the platform knowing that it would be easier to get a seat in the carriages near the front.

  She felt terribly nervous. What would she say to him?

  Her phone rang and she rooted in her bag, hoping that it might be Barry cancelling. It was her mother.

  ‘Well, you’re back,’ Connie said crisply. ‘Did you have a good time?’

  ‘Yeah, it was great, Mum. I have a present for you. It’s just something small but you’ll like it,’ Debbie assured her.

  ‘Debbie, you shouldn’t have bought presents,’ Connie chided. ‘You’ll need your money for your wedding.’

  ‘It’s just something small, honest, Mum, don’t give out,’ Debbie said plaintively.

  ‘OK, I won’t.’ Connie’s tone softened and Debbie wished it was her she was going to meet. She saw the train curving into the station.

  ‘Mum, I’m just getting on to a Dart. Can I call you later?’

  ‘Sure,’ Connie said. ‘I’ll talk to you then.’

  ‘Bye, Mum. I love you,’ Debbie said, before she hung up. She didn’t want to say anything to Connie about her imminent meeting with Barry, just in case it didn’t work out. There was no point in tormenting her mother. She’d had to put up with enough all these years.

  The tide was in and the evening sun glinted on the gunmetal sea. She could see Dun Laoghaire in the distance. The sun was trying to break through the silver-grey clouds, and she wondered if it was an omen. They slowed into Blackrock, and then the train was picking up speed, Dun Laoghaire grew inexorably closer and her palms grew damper.

  You’re an adult not a child, she chided herself, but she had those same fluttery feelings she’d experienced that morning while standing in Judith Baxter’s office. Would she ever feel in control of things? she wondered as the train juddered to a halt.

  She took a deep breath and hurried on to the platform and up the stairs of the pedestrian bridge. As she stood at the traffic lights waiting to cross the street she could see his penthouse and the building where they were meeting. Was her father there already?

  The lights turned red and the traffic came to a halt. Debbie raised her chin and lifted her shoulders. She was in control. She had initiated the meeting. This time it was all about her.

  ‘And where’s Melissa?’

  ‘In the penthouse.’

  ‘On her own?’ Aimee’s voice rose an octave.

  ‘No, Sarah’s with her – but it’s just eight o’clock, it’s broad daylight. I can see it from here, Aimee. Stop getting excited over nothing,’ Barry said coldly, unimpressed with his wife’s agitation.

  ‘I’m not getting excited, Barry. I just don’t like the idea of Melissa on her own at night.’

  ‘Aimee, give it a rest – she’s not on her own. It’s bright. I’m close by. You’ve left her alone while you’ve gone to Crunches and there hasn’t been a word about it. OK?’

  ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ she snapped.

  ‘You’re the one who’s overreacting, dear,’ he retorted. ‘I see Debbie coming up the stairs. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.’ He hung up before she could answer.

  He watched his daughter climb the curving staircase and thought with a little shock how like her mother she looked with her copper hair tied back in a ponytail.

  What did she want to talk to him about? he wondered anxiously. He’d been as apprehensive as hell all day about their meeting. It was so unusual for Debbie to want to meet him voluntarily. If it was that she needed more money, as Aimee had suggested, he’d give it to her, but he was keeping it to himself. Aimee would not be made privy to that piece of information, he decided as he stood up to greet his daughter. His heart softened as he saw the smattering of freckles over her nose that no amount of make-up could disguise.

  ‘Hello, Debbie,’ he smiled, not daring to give her a kiss in case he was rebuffed.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘Can we talk?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘I’m always happy to talk to
you, but let me get you something. Tea? Coffee?’ Barry said easily. He could see that his daughter was nervous. His heart sank.

  Oh, no, please don’t let her tell me she’s pregnant. She’s too young, just like I was, he thought with a lurching sense of dismay.

  ‘Aah . . . um . . . a latte, please.’ Debbie sat down.

  ‘Anything to eat – a muffin, cookie, shortbread biscuit?’ He tried to keep his tone light, but watching her tense, pale face his heart was heavy. ‘Back in a sec.’ He made his way up to the counter and ordered their coffee. ‘We’re over at that table.’ He pointed and paid the bill. The young girl nodded at him. She didn’t look much older than Melissa, he reflected as she handed him his change. Young women didn’t notice him any more. He felt middle-aged. It was dispiriting.

  ‘So! What’s the problem?’ He came back and sat down opposite his daughter. Might as well get to the point and make it easier for her.

  Debbie cleared her throat. ‘Actually you are,’ she murmured.

  ‘Sorry?’ He wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

  ‘You’re the problem,’ she said, and this time her voice was stronger, accusatory almost.

  ‘What do you mean, I’m the problem? Do you not think I’m giving you enough towards the wedding? I thought I’d been reasonably generous,’ he responded, trying to keep his tone level. She really expected a lot from him, he thought in exasperation.

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s us. It’s our relationship, Dad. I need to talk to you about how I feel,’ she burst out.

  ‘Oh . . . oh . . . OK,’ he said warily. He supposed he should be glad she wasn’t pregnant, but talking about their relationship wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. He tried to hide his dismay as the young waitress arrived with their coffee. He tipped her and gave his most charming smile but she simply mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and was gone, immune to his charm.