Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

to hide behind the tea chest. For all his careful planning someone must have either followed them or tracked them down. He couldn’t imagine who or to what purpose. What next?

Chapter 41

Marie

Tuesday 4 August, 11.30 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

Marie searched in the bottom of her bag for her make-up and the tube of bright shimmering pink lip gloss that she rarely wore – certainly never to the office. With a slash of the brush, she coated her lips to maximum effect, taking an extra moment to fluff up her hair and straighten her jacket, her mind fixating on the need to make Ivo suffer for what he’d put her through. While she liked to look good, she rarely spent more than a couple of minutes getting ready in the morning. With an easy-to-manage haircut and a staple of coordinating separates hung in her wardrobe, she didn’t need to. Now she thrust her shoulders back and rearranged her features into the semblance of a blinding smile. Ivo wouldn’t know what had hit him.

‘You wanted to see me?’

She didn’t announce her arrival, instead tiptoeing across reception until she was standing right in front of him, her eyes travelling over his designer suit and conservative tie. Ivo, the man who’d begged her to date him in the early days of their acquaintance when she’d been too busy living it up with her friends to even think about a steady relationship. Ivo, the man she’d finally given her heart to only for him to mash it up along with any feelings of trust and respect. Marie could understand the devastation he’d felt at the thought of never being a parent – she felt the same devastation – but she would never be able to forgive him for the way he’d handled it.

Shoving his laptop on the chair beside him, Ivo jerked to his feet, his whole demeanour softening into the expression she knew of old, the same one he used for awkward clients. With that thought her heart hardened, the cracks merging into a consolidated mass of anger. The selfish bastard was in for a shock. The days were long gone when he’d been able to sway her with a pair of grey eyes and a fake smile. She knew him now, where before all she’d seen was what he’d wanted her to.

‘Marie.’ He lifted his arms, spreading them wide. ‘What do I have to do to convince you of my mistake if coming to this place isn’t enough? I’m all the fools rolled into one to think that another woman could ever give me what we had together. If you want me to crawl on bended knees …’

‘Go on then.’

‘What?’ She watched his expression lose a little of its lawyerly patina, the hint of moisture above his top lip the only indication that being dressed in a three-piece suit wasn’t the greatest of ideas with the temperature heading for the high seventies. Instead of focusing on his eyes – the most difficult part for her – she let her gaze drift to the knot on his Italian silk tie only to wonder if he’d worn it on purpose. Knowing him, probably. She’d bought it as part of last year’s Christmas’s gifts, the designer label costing her more than she’d wanted to spend. She’d thought him worth it; the biggest joke of all.

‘If you’d like to go on bended knees there’s nothing stopping you but I won’t be around to pick up the pieces if you struggle to get back on your feet. You’re not getting any younger, after all,’ she added, allowing her attention to drift to his receding hairline. In the old days, the reality of which was less than two months ago, she’d never have dared refer to the state of his hair. Now she didn’t care. He’d walked out on her within a week of finding out that the likelihood of them conceiving was an impossibility without medical intervention. At thirty-six, she could almost feel her eggs shrivelling at the thought of having to find another partner before it was too late. She wasn’t stupid. It was already too late.

‘You never used to be this hard.’

‘No, well, perhaps that was part of the problem.’ She shifted from one foot to the other, casting an overlong glance at her watch. ‘I do have somewhere I need to be so, unless you have something to say – which isn’t a repeat of asking me back – then I suggest you leave.’

‘If only you’d see sense. It was a mistake all right, a stupid error of judgement.’

‘And one you made with gusto, Ivo. You made your decision. Now you have to accept the consequences. I have. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Sooner rather than later if you continue with this ridiculous behaviour.’

Marie was a snivelling mess by the time she reached the pool car that Gaby had kindly agreed to let her use, both in and outside of work. The only thing that helped to dry up her tears was the increasingly firm notion that Ivo was a complete arse – she was mad at herself for taking so long to realise it. By the time she’d arrived at St Gildas school in Beddgelert, she’d managed to swallow her tears over the bump of pain that had taken up permanent residence in the back of her throat. All that was left of the deluge was a slight pinkening around her eyes and nose, which could be easily explained away as a touch of hay fever to anyone who asked.

The imposing, gothic grey stone building came into view, the long sweeping drive bordered with hydrangeas in full bloom, their large balls of assorted mauves and blues bringing a glint to her eye for a completely different reason. She loved gardening. They’d had a little square of green behind their house where she’d spent most of her time planting and pruning. It was only the sight of the splendour in front