Chasing What's Already Gone (Second Chances Book 1) (12 page)

Jess and I burst into laughter. Maybe I am wrong, but maybe my nephew has maroon highlights.

I do agree with Jess—nothing in the world tastes as good as fish and chips eaten on a sandy beach. When we have finished, Butch plays in the sand and Jess rests her head on my shoulder as we amble down to the water’s edge.

“This has been the best of days,” she says. “I don’t think I can face work tomorrow. Oh, damn! We were out so late yesterday, I have to finish that report tonight. I need to get home.”

I had forgotten, as well.

“Sure. But let’s not rush. It’s been such a great day, I’d rather not spoil it by hurrying all the way home.”

She squeezes my arm and we stroll rather than jog back to the car. Butch lets Jess sit in the front of the car with me and is soon fast asleep on the back seat. Before we get to the motorway, I stop the car and we kiss more passionately than we ever have before. We are both content with our lot in life, and we hold hands the entire journey back to her house. When we get to Leigh House, I go to the boot and unload the now-much-lighter box and carry it up to her front door. The house is almost in darkness.

“No one in?”

She smiles.

“There is never anyone in. Thank you for a lovely day. Give Butch a kiss for me, and I will speak to you soon.”

Before I know it, she is inside the house. I return to the car and drive slowly back to Chan’s house.

Butch is still fast asleep when we arrive, so I pick him up and carry him to the front door, where Chan is waiting to take him up to his bedroom. I carry on into the lounge, where Derek is sitting with his injured leg resting on a stool.

“How’re you doing, Derek?”

“Been better, Danny. Come and sit down for a while. Thanks for looking after Jeremiah today. It was a massive help.”

I listen to make sure Chan is out of earshot, before I ask him, “Are you going to be all right for money? Chan was saying it might be a month or so before you can get back to work.”

“If it’s as long as that, we might be struggling, but if I can get back to work within four, maybe five weeks, we’ll manage.”

He is a proud man, our Derek.

“You know, if you need a few quid, you only have to ask.”

“Yeah, we know that, Dan.” He shuffles around in his seat to make himself more comfortable. “There would still be bits and pieces I could do even hobbling about like this, but driving? No chance at the moment.”

“What are the stomach problems you’ve got? Butch let the cat out of the bag.”

“Just the traces of an ulcer. There’s always a worry being self-employed.”

“Yes, I get that. I’ll put my thinking cap on and see if I can think of anything that might help.”

He is uncomfortable with getting too personal with me. He changes the subject.

“Thanks. How was my little monster?”

“Brilliant, just brilliant. We had a terrific day.”

“Chantelle says there might be a new filly on the race course?”

Wherever did he get an expression like that from?

“Well, fingers crossed, it’s looking good at present. Jess and Jeremiah seemed to hit it off with no trouble, straight away.”

“Sounds good.”

“What sounds good?”

“Danny and his new filly.”

“Derek! What a horrible expression.” He might be a big man, but Chan is still capable of making him shrink back into his seat. “Did you have a nice day?” she asks me.

“I was just saying to Derek, me, and the filly had a cracker.” I don’t move quickly enough and her backhander catches my forehead.

“Ow! You don’t half pack a wallop. Where’s your sense of humour gone?” I get another clout for my cheek. “Seriously, we all had a great time. Jeremiah is a real charmer without even trying. You have raised a good child.”

Chan looks at Derek. Derek looks back at Chan. Chan looks at me, and then the penny drops.

“You’re pregnant!”

“We thought we would keep it a secret, but, well, I’m sixteen weeks gone already.”

Sometimes I think my observational skills could do with an upgrade. Her rounded tummy is enormous. Well, slightly bigger, anyway.

“Congratulations.”

I catch the worry on Derek’s face but turn away before he catches me looking.

“Let’s have a cup of tea to celebrate, and then I must get on my way.”

Chapter

Thirty-One

The warehouse opens up officially at eight-thirty, but I get in at slightly after seven so I that I can clear my desk as soon as possible. I have had the best night’s sleep possible and my energy cells are topped up to the max. It is amazing how much paperwork builds up in such a short time, but Patrick, my deputy, seems to have coped admirably. He arrives about an hour after me and I can see he is miffed that I beat him to it.

“Everything looks hunky-dory, Pat. Any problems?”

“None at all. I came in hoping to spruce your office up a bit before you came back.”

I throw him a serious and concerned look.

“You had better sit down, Pat.”

He does a far better job than me at looking serious and concerned. Shuffling papers on my desk and avoiding eye contact, I continue, “The thing is, Pat, Head Office have been monitoring your performance over the last year”—I see him visibly gulp—“and now they have asked me to address the issue.”

“The issue?”

“The issue of your performance, Patrick.” I never call him Patrick. “The thing is, Patrick, being next in line of your superiors, it is down to me to break the news to you.”

“But I’ve got two young kids and a mortgage.   I—”

“Patrick, I don’t give a toss, the company does not give a toss. You are the new branch manager and that is all there is to it.”

Pat is stunned. In his head, he is rewinding my last sentence and trying to make sense of it. I stand up and offer him my hand.

“Congratulations, Pat, you deserve it. Ten percent salary increase and a nice little van to drive around.”

Before he shakes my hand, he yells at me,

“You bastard, you absolute bastard. I thought I was for the chop.”

“Whatever made you think that, old boy?”

“You bastard. Is that why you’ve been away for a few days?”

“One of the reasons. The company has built a new depot and they want me to move and run it as soon as possible. You’ve had all your annual leave, haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes, all done and dusted.”

He is a good man, is Pat. I know for a fact he has at least three days holiday due to him. “Okay. I’ll ring Head Office by the end of the week and see how soon we can do the handover.”

“Thanks, Danny. I owe you one.”

I get a feeling that was a good-natured threat.

I loved doing that. Passing good news on makes us all feel good, does it not? Interspersed with all this happiness is a yearning to speak to Jess. I am literally missing her already. What a wimp—no matter how hard I try, I cannot rustle up an excuse to ring her. I have her proper visiting card now and I turn it over and over between my fingers. Eleven-fifteen. I wonder if she has had her coffee yet. I am about to take a wander around the warehouse when my office phone rings. It’s Patrick.

“It’s Head Office on the phone. Buck Osborne wants to speak to you.”

Oh, Pat, you have to be sharper than that. You’re not going to catch me out that quickly. Buck Osborne, indeed. I know for a fact he is in Chicago this week. Here goes. I wonder who in the warehouse thinks they can do a decent Buck Osborne impression. Oh well, I had better play along with their games.

“Okay, Pat, put him through.”

“Mr. Pearson. Dawn Miller at Head Office here. Can you hold the line, please?”

She sounds deadly serious, none of last week’s banter. Oh my dear God, they’ve changed their minds. Everything has gone to pot. No promotion. No job. No Cotswold Lodge and probably no more Jessica. Who wants a homeless, unemployed, ex-warehouse manager as a boyfriend? That dream was short-lived. That’ll teach me for winding up Pat. I deserve all the crap I get.

“I’m putting you through, Mr. Pearson.”

Don’t bother. I can see my own way out of the building.

“Morning, Danny.” It
is
Buck Osborne, so he is nowhere near Chicago this week.

“Good morning, Buck.”

“Good morning, Danny. There has been a change of plans.”

I do my best to take my occupational execution with dignity. I will leave with my head held high. When they talk of me they will say, “That Danny Pearson—he left with dignity. There was not a dry eye in the house…”

“Pardon, Buck, could you repeat that?”

“I said there has been a change of plans. The contractors down at the new place have been falsifying invoices. There is something like a fifty-K discrepancy already, and we have only just started double-checking. We need you to drop everything, and I mean everything, and get down there. We need the old contractors off the site and a new team in there as soon as possible. Your new salary and expenses start as of now. Book into the best hotel in the area and we will carry the cost. I’ve got to go now, but I will call you by the end of the day.”

I remain seated whilst I try and take it all in. Eventually I go to my office door and call out into the warehouse,

“Has anyone got today’s paper?” I need to have a good look at my horoscope. There is something most peculiar going on with the alignment of my planets and stars over these last few days.

***

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Honestly, JB, do I have to drag it out of you?”

“I thought I told you to call me Jess.”

“So you did. How did things go on the weekend,
Jess
?”

Jess has been dying for Gemma to cross-examine her all morning, because of the long Bank holiday weekend, it seemed like ages since she had spent time with her assistant, and it is not until eleven-fifteen and coffee time that either of them gets the chance to talk about anything other than office matters.

“Quite well.”

“Only quite well?”

“Well, quite a bit better than quite well.”

“What! Even better than quite well? But not as good as bloody fantastically better than good.”

“Yes, I think it was exactly that—bloody fantastically better than good.”

“Oh, JB—Jess, I am so pleased. What did you do?”

“Well, first we went house-hunting, and then we took his little nephew to the beach.”

“Whoa, Jess! Can you stop there? I think I need to sit down. You firstly went house-hunting, and then you took his nephew to the beach. He sounds like one hell of a fast mover. Do you think you’re safe? I mean what next—a doubles chess tournament? Can your body take it? Is there any adrenaline left in your blood system? Sit down. I’ll pull the blinds down so you catch up on your sleep.”

“Ha, ha, ha. How very droll of you.”

“Sorry, but you must admit it does sound rather dull. I always thought that when I met your boyfriend, he would be a billionaire with his own private jet and that you might well have finished up island shopping. Get that look off your face. I don’t mean it. Danny looks like a great guy.”

“I think he is. There is no drama with him, like you get with some men.”

Gemma can guess to whom she is referring, but refrains from commenting. Gemma’s low opinion of Paul Clement has been well documented and discussed at length; there is little point in hijacking the conversation by referring to that scumbag.

Jess is still trying to express her thoughts about Danny.

“What you see is what you get; there’s no pressure. And his nephew is a sweetie. Hang on—I took some photos on the beach. Here he is, the little charmer.”

“He’s got purple highlights!”

“Wouldn’t you say they were more like maroon?”

“He’s got maroony—purple highlights and Elton John’s white glasses.”

“Cute or what?”

“I think the company’s medical officer should be called.”

“What, don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Of course I do. You are definitely a bit on the defensive today. I think Mr. Pearson, or at least his nephew, has made a mighty big impact this weekend.”

“Do you think I should call him? Thank him for a nice time?”

“Not if I was you. He is probably in a recovery room as we speak, having his blood pressure checked. Good God, the man sounds like a human dynamo. He can only live so long at this pace!”

“Gemma, I could really learn to hate you.”

“No, you couldn’t. Maybe call him just as you finish tonight. Best not to appear to be too interested. But not too late; you might disturb him drinking his cocoa.”

By the time Jess can find a weapon in her desk, Gemma has safely closed the office door behind her.