At a quarter to ten, Olive closed down her computer and walked the short distance from her office to Jack’s carrying the file with her report in, all of it in a large, sealed envelope marked “Urgent. Private and Confidential.” like it was a piece of putrid rubbish.
She had never met Belle Abbot but Olive liked her all the same. Firstly, she’d selflessly saved the lives of many children and their bus driver. Secondly, she’d not talked to the press about this act of heroism or the recent business with Jack and his brother at all.
Not one word.
Even when she was painted as a somewhat dim bulb manipulated at the hands of Bennett Brothers, she did not speak. Instead, she kept her silence and her considerable (to Olive’s way of thinking) dignity.
Therefore, it rankled even deeper than it would naturally do that Belle Abbot had endured a four year marriage to an abusive husband.
Olive set the report, front and centre, on Jack’s desk. He was spending more than his normal amount of time in Cornwall but Gillie would have the file couriered to him the next day.
Considering its contents, Olive would usually hand deliver it to him even in Cornwall.
However, in an uncustomary display of cowardice, Olive wanted to be nowhere near Jack Bennett when he read that report.
She left the report on his desk and flicked off the light, her mind resolutely moving to the very large glass of wine she would consume before going to bed.
Gillie and Deborah
Gillie Matthews saw the large file marked “Urgent. Private and Confidential.” that Olive put on Jack’s desk sometime in the night.
This was a common occurrence.
It was also common for Olive to put the most important papers front and centre on Jack’s desk, indicating they needed his immediate attention.
Therefore, Gillie, preparing a packet of things to be couriered to Jack at his office at The Point in Cornwall, set the file on the floor so she wouldn’t forget it. She started to rifle through his desk to add other papers that needed his attention but her phone rang.
She ran from the room to get the phone and it was Jack who spent ten minutes giving her a list of directives through which she took careful and copious notes.
While she was doing this, she was meticulously concentrating and thus missed Deborah from the administrative pool who wandered through the outer office and into Jack’s.
It was part of Deborah’s daily tasks to enter Jack’s office and see to any filing and various and sundry other things that were slightly less important than Gillie’s responsibilities.
As Jack always did, anything confidential that needed to be shredded he tossed on the floor by his desk.
Deborah found the file, not unusually stamped “Urgent. Private and Confidential.” She picked it up and took it to the shredder.
Without reading it (something which was not her place in any way, shape or form), she shredded every last document.
In the meantime, Gillie had spent a goodly amount of her morning seeing to the priority tasks Jack had assigned her.
By the time she re-entered his office to ready his packet for the courier, she’d forgotten all about the file she’d left on the floor.
Mickey
Mickey Dempsey watched the man walk out of the hospital with his wife.
She’d slipped and fallen down the stairs.
Mickey knew this because, even though he wasn’t a qualified doctor, he had a lab coat and more than a dozen different badges proclaiming his right to be in more than a dozen different places, including University College Hospital, London.
Therefore he’d snuck in and read her file.
Mickey looked at the woman whose eye was swollen shut and an ugly shade of purply-blue. She also had a cut on her lip. Furthermore, she was holding her body like it was made of glass.
Mickey had never known anyone who fell down the stairs but unless the woman had fallen down the stairs on her face, he could not imagine how she’d acquired those injuries.
Mickey had known a number of people (including himself, on occasion), who had been in bust-ups at pubs and footie matches. He’d even seen himself in the mirror when a fist had hit his face more than once, looking exactly like the woman who walked out of the hospital.
He’d also seen his own mother looking like her.
Mickey turned his attention to the man with her.
He was lean, tall and handsome, with light brown hair and blue eyes.
His name, Mickey knew, was Calvin Cole.
He was once, Mickey knew, married to Belle Abbot, The Tiny Dynamo.
Mickey, who was a freelance investigative journalist putting together an article for whoever would buy it, knew Cole had abused his first wife rather viciously for four years.
Mickey, whose own mother suffered at the hands of Mickey’s father in much the same way, knew Cole would pay for what he did to the women in his life.
The public would eat him alive at the very thought of his lifting his hand to Belle “The Tiny Dynamo” Abbot.
Much less him doing it repeatedly for four years.
And no woman in her right mind would ever get near him again.
Mickey would make absolutely certain of that.
This thought made Mickey smile to himself as he started his car to follow them.
Chapter Eight
All an Act
Jack
Jack strode swiftly up the path to the stables where Rachel had told him Belle was with her grandmother.
It was fair to say Jack was not very happy.
Indeed, one could even say he was incensed.
Three weeks ago Belle had, as she’d agreed, arranged for Jack to attend an appointment with her at her obstetrician.
This was not what made him angry.
Her obstetrician was quite qualified (Jack had checked) and seemed confident, knowledgeable and self-assured.
She had also told Jack that Belle’s continuing morning sickness, weight loss, pallor and head pain were all quite natural.
Jack didn’t believe her.
Two weeks ago, Belle had travelled all the way up to London with his mother in order that she could accompany him to a second opinion appointment with an eminent obstetrician in
Harley Street
.
During the second opinion with the eminent
Harley Street
obstetrician, Jack was told the precise same thing.
Jack didn’t like it but he believed him.
This, as well, was not what made him angry.
One week ago, Belle, her mother and her grandmother had, as promised, moved into his home.
Upon her arrival, he was pleased both to note and be told by Rachel that Belle was feeling much better. The head pain was gone as was the morning sickness.
Jack saw with his own eyes that the colour had come back to her face. She’d even seemed to gain weight and was beginning to form a small baby bump.
However, since she’d moved in, even though she was living under the same roof as him, Jack had barely seen her. Furthermore, the two weeks prior, he’d found it difficult to contact her.
Although he owned and ran two large conglomerates that necessitated him having a personal assistant, a personal secretary and a four-person administrative pool at his command, Belle was busier than he.
If she was not at her shop in St. Ives, she was in the workshop above her shop in St. Ives.
If she was not in her shop or workshop, she was off having coffee or shopping with her mother, grandmother or his mother or a combination of the three or, indeed, the whole lot of them.