The art of deception Page 8

  Dr Strange raised her eyebrows. ‘Is there something else worrying you, Mrs Greaves?’

  Reluctantly, she explained about the mood swings, the anger, frustration, anxiety and depression. The doctor listened intently.

  ‘This happens to a lot of women. Pregnancy hormones can play havoc in your body in these first few weeks, and I’d be reluctant to prescribe anything this early into your pregnancy. The tablets Dr Brodie prescribed for the sickness do sometimes take a while to take effect, so let’s see what progress you make in the next week, and take it from there. Have you made your first appointment with the midwife yet?’

  Angie shook her head.

  ‘Look, she’s been in such a state this last week, she’s not her normal self.

  She’s been panicking over every little thing. I’m really worried about her. Can’t you give her something now?’ John said.

  ‘What are your thoughts about that, Mrs Greaves?’

  Angie blushed. ‘Don’t know. As long as they don’t harm the baby, I’d think about taking antidepressants, but I’d hate to be hooked on them. Maybe a low dose would be OK.’

  pg. 53

  ‘Well, I won’t prescribe anything until it’s necessary. I suggest you continue taking the morning sickness tablets at the higher dose, and if you’re no better by next week, we’ll review the situation.’

  Angie looked at John.

  ‘I think you need antidepressants now, before the situation gets out of hand.

  But of course it’s up to you and the doctor. I’m just telling you my own opinion.’

  ‘I’ll have to take the doctor’s advice, John.’

  ‘OK, fine. It’s your call.’

  Dr Strange smiled. ‘I’ll give you another prescription for a week’s supply of the sickness tablets. Come and see me in a week. Take care, now – and don’t forget to make that appointment.’

  Outside, John wasn’t happy. ‘She ought to have given you those other tablets. They might have helped – you should have insisted.’

  ‘I’m not taking anything else yet. Now stop going on. You’ll make me cry, and I don’t need that right now. Remember we’ve got work. What will everyone say if they see I’ve been crying?’

  ‘All right, sorry. Of course it’s up to you. Have a good day.’

  ‘You too. See you later,’ she said without looking at him.

  John frowned. Why did she keep getting angry when he was only trying to help?

  <><><>

  The Sachs Gordon building stood only five minutes away from the surgery. John drove over, parked the car in his space in the underground car park, then took the lift to the third floor, looking at his watch; he was only a few minutes late.

  Sarah Benson sat at her desk, busy on the computer. David Sanville was next to her, Joe Lyon next to him. David was the senior of the three, tall, in his forties with balding black hair. Joe, the baby of the office at twenty-five, had curly black hair and green eyes and wore a trendy three-piece suit.

  John walked past them to his own desk.

  ‘Hi, Sarah.’

  ‘What time do you call this?’ she joked.

  ‘Had to take the missus to the doctor’s,’ he explained, ‘and they were running late.’

  David winked. ‘Not been out on the razzle, have you?’

  John gave a sardonic smile.

  Joe studied him. ‘Everything all right, John? Nothing serious, is it?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ David said.

  It came out before he could stop it. ‘We’re expecting a baby.’

  ‘What? Hey, John, that’s great news! Did you hear that, guys? John’s going to be a daddy!’

  pg. 54

  They gathered around and patted him on the back. ‘This calls for a celebration. What say we go out for a drink lunchtime?’

  ‘Don’t know about that. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit cheesed off. Angie’s getting terrible morning sickness.’

  ‘Tell me about it, mate. My missus was the same with our three,’ David said. ‘How she got through it three times beats me. I hold my hat off to her, John, I really do. Treat her like a queen and she’ll be fine.’

  ‘She keeps crying and losing her temper. Is that normal? It’s driving me insane.’

  ‘Never mind, only another seven months to go,’ David said, ignoring the question. ‘And that’s the least of your problems. Wait until the baby’s born, that’s when your troubles will start. The dirty nappies, the sick, the sleepless nights and food everywhere – and that’s just the first year. And when they begin to walk, you’ve got to watch their every move. You’ll be dead on your feet, mate.’

  ‘John, don’t listen to him. He’s trying to wind you up,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yeah, well, I won’t take any notice.’

  ‘I sympathise. All the best, mate,’ David said.

  ‘Thanks.’ John logged into his computer.

  The day passed quickly. The lunchtime drink never happened due to the volume of work they had on; he even had to do overtime. That meant Angie would have been waiting for him for over half an hour. His stomach flipped as he realised he hadn’t phoned her; she’d be mad at him again.

  He drove as fast as he dared over to the estate agent’s.

  She wasn’t there.

  ‘Shit!’ What now? Where had she gone? The office was shut, as were the shops. She must have caught a bus.

  He carried on home and saw the lights on in the house. Breathing a sigh of relief, he got out of the car and prepared to face the music.

  He went inside, putting his briefcase down in the hall.

  She was in the living room, watching TV. ‘Hi, darling,’ he shouted, ‘sorry I’m late.’ She ignored him. ‘Had anything to eat?’

  Still no answer. What should he do now? ‘Look, if you won’t talk to me, I’ll make something for myself.’

  ‘Why should I, after you left me in the lurch?’

  ‘I didn’t. I went to pick you up, but you weren’t there.’

  ‘And why wasn’t I there? Because I was waiting out in the fucking cold for ages. I had to get the bus.’

  ‘Angie, I got held up at work. I’ve been busy. Why didn’t you phone?’

  ‘Why didn’t you phone, you selfish pig? And for your information, I did phone, but the line was engaged. Couldn’t get through.’

  ‘I was on the phone to a client for almost an hour, trying to figure out his accounts.’

  ‘A likely story. You’ll be lucky to get any tea, the way you’re behaving.’

  pg. 55

  ‘Well, I’ll make my own if that’s the case.’

  ‘Fine. But remember, John – don’t push your luck. I’ll only take so much and then I’ll snap. Be very careful.’

  John made for the kitchen and heard the oven humming. He opened it to see two fish steaks bubbling away. The steamer was on the go and there looked to be more than enough for two. He smiled, glad she’d thought of him after all.

  They ate in silence, until the bad atmosphere made him too uncomfortable.

  ‘Did you get that prescription?’

  ‘Yes, in my lunch hour.’

  ‘Been sick today?’

  ‘No, not so far. But I still feel bad. Haven’t eaten much either. Just a ham salad for dinner and now this. I’m not enjoying it – but I’ll try to eat it, don’t worry.’

  ‘That’s good news. This is the first day since this started that you haven’t been sick. I’d say those tablets are kicking in. Try to look on the bright side, eh?’

  ‘That’s difficult when you feel ill all the time. Don’t know how I got through the day. Luckily, I got to stay in the office, or I’d have come home.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m frightened of being sick when I’m out seeing clients. It’s already happened once; I don’t want it to happen again.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘It’s all right for you – it’s not your problem. You’ve done your bit and no
w the rest is up to me.’

  ‘Yes, but only until it’s born. After that it’ll be a shared responsibility, and I intend supporting you as much as I can.’

  ‘Oh, sure. How can you, when you’ll be at work? Look at the next couple of weeks for instance, you’ll be working all the hours God sends. So how can you help me then?’

  ‘Can’t help that, Angie. It’s my job. I have to work. But when I’m here I’ll do my share, I promise. I want to be involved.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We both know what will happen.’

  ‘You could always call on my mum – she’d love to help if you let her.’

  ‘Great,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  She put her fork down, having only eaten half of her meal.

  ‘Nice dinner,’ he said. ‘Shall I do the washing-up while you put your feet up?’

  ‘Whatever makes you happy.’

  ‘Helping you makes me happy.’

  ‘Don’t be a creep.’

  He made off with the dirty dishes, smiling.

  pg. 56

  Chapter 12

  t had been another hectic day. It was now the first Thursday in February and nothing much had changed. Having to work late didn’t please John – or I Angie, who hadn’t made dinner. Still, the takeaway was only five minutes away. A fish and chips supper was fine by him, but he worried there’d be more recriminations.

  Armed with the two portions, he wondered whether she’d be able to eat it; it wasn’t the most easily digestible food. Still, that was up her.

  He put the paper-wrapped packages in the kitchen, then returned to the living room, where Angie sat watching the TV.

  ‘Want them on a plate, or shall we eat out of the paper?’

  ‘Out of the paper. Not sure how much I can eat but I’ll try my best.’

  He bought her food and drink on a tray and went back for his own.

  She’d opened the paper and was eating with her fingers, slowly. He started on his own food, not taking much notice of what she did, in case she accused him of spying on her.

  ‘I was in two minds over buying these, the way your stomach is right now.’

  ‘Yes, but I have to eat something.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘So, that’s what I intend doing. Here, let me give you a few chips. I don’t want all these.’

  He watched her pile chips on top of his own portion. Even he couldn’t finish all those.

  ‘So, how are you feeling now?’

  ‘I’m still having problems, even with the higher dose of the tablets. And it’s affecting me at work too.’

  ‘Is it? How?’

  He listened intently as she explained about her urges to throw up when showing customers around properties. He was shocked, but not surprised. He’d hoped that work would take her mind off it, but apparently not.

  ‘John, I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Unless the sickness gets worse and you can’t eat at all, the doctors won’t do much. As for this problem at work, have a few days off sick. Get a sick note off the doctor, and ask Duncan to excuse you from seeing clients for the time being. Or one of these days you’ll throw up all over someone or in their house. How embarrassing will that be?’

  ‘Don’t remind me. It was awful when I went to that house and was sick in their bathroom sink. But I’m an estate agent, John – the main part of my job is seeing clients, negotiating with them. They’ve suggested sending Bethany out, but she’s not qualified yet.’

  pg. 57

  ‘Well, that’s their problem. They’ll have to give you something else to do.

  If not, you’ll be off work indefinitely.’

  She shook her head violently. ‘I love the job, and I don’t want to take any time off. I’ll go crazy here on my own.’

  ‘It won’t come to that if you look after yourself. Talk to Duncan, he seems a decent enough chap. You’ve worked there for years, and as far as I’m aware you’ve never had any time off sick. And you’re good at your job. Your appraisals are always excellent, aren’t they? They’ll fall over themselves to accommodate you.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

  ‘Angie, come on. This is only going to be a temporary arrangement. Once you’ve got over these first three months, you’ll be out on the road again seeing clients. You’ll be back to normal … well, except for your big bump.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t eat any more of this. Sorry, John, it’s no good.’

  She pushed the food aside and took a tiny sip of her drink.

  John finished his and took a muffin out of the fridge.

  <><><>

  She woke early on Friday morning, feeling queasy, but managed not to be sick, which was a relief. A light breakfast of toast and marmalade was all she could face. Then she took her tablet.

  John peered around the door. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Before you ask, I had a good night. Still not well, but I managed to eat most of my breakfast and I haven’t been sick yet.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, at least you’ve started the day on a more positive note.’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ll be able to do your job without hindrance after all.’

  ‘That what I’m hoping.’

  Angie busied herself tidying up while John had breakfast. Soon they had to set off for work. As she searched for her coat, a wave of nausea came over her again and she had to rush to the toilet. She cried as she cleared up the mess, guessing John must realise what had happened.

  When she came out, he was standing in the hall waiting for her. She noticed the concern in his eyes and went to him for a hug.

  ‘What’s the matter with me, John? What shall I do?’ she said as he held her tightly.

  ‘I’ve told you. Do what you think is best. For a start, phone in sick. Then make another appointment with the doctor.’

  ‘I’m going into work. I’ve got to. It’s what I do.’

  ‘Angie, listen. Please don’t go.’

  ‘I’m not taking a day off just because I threw up. That’s ridiculous. Now, move out of the way. I’m going, whatever you say.’

  pg. 58

  John stood his ground and she pushed him away as hard as she could. He staggered against the wall, startled.

  She put on her coat and slammed the front door, then sped off. Not until she got onto the car park did she stop to look in a mirror. It was still early, and cold outside, so she waited in the car until someone came to unlock the office.

  She cleaned herself up, hoping no one would be able to tell she’d been crying.

  Duncan waved as he parked alongside her. Time to go. She needed to act normal and hope he wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Hi Angie, you’re bright and early. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Just wanted to get a good start, you know.’

  ‘You still look as white as a sheet. You sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Yes, I just told you, didn’t I?’

  ‘Suit yourself, but if you’re ill, you need to get well again. You’re no good to us unless you can give one hundred per cent.’

  If she’d told him she was fine, he ought to accept that and let her carry on.

  He opened the office door for her.

  ‘Thanks, Duncan. I’m going to check my emails and catch up on my paperwork first, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Sure, carry on. Oh, and by the way, I want to see you in my office in half an hour.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when the time comes.’

  As soon as he’d gone, she slammed the door shut. What was going on here?

  Were they conspiring against her?

  She logged onto her computer and started to work, but she found it hard to concentrate as adrenaline surged through her body. A fleeting suspicion of John phoning Duncan passed through her. He wouldn’t do that – would he?

  Nausea came over her [AB8]again and she had t
o rush to the toilets.

  As soon as she came out, Duncan came over.

  ‘Angie, in my office now.’

  ‘You said in half an hour. I’ve got lots to catch up on. I can’t do my job if you’re going to keep me locked in a stupid meeting.’

  ‘Come in and shut the door.’

  Fine. She was ready to have it out with him.

  ‘Sit down, Angie.’

  She stared at him coldly. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘Not exactly. A few of the staff and I have noticed how ill you look.

  Naturally it’s to do with your pregnancy …’

  ‘But I can still do my job, despite what everyone might think.’

  ‘You think so? Sickness while you’re pregnant can be serious. I know a woman who ended up in hospital because she couldn’t eat or drink. They put her on a drip. Now I’m not saying that will happen to you. But I am aware you have been sick at work on several occasions. And a customer has phoned to ask how pg. 59

  you are, since you were sick while interviewing her. She hasn’t complained as such, but I don’t think I can allow you to visit clients in your present condition.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. It could have happened to anyone, pregnant or not. This is victimisation. Discrimination.’

  ‘No, Angie, you’re wrong. When someone can’t do their job due to illness, I have to sort it out. And you should be telling me if you’re not well. I’ve already seen you rushing off to the toilet today. I expect you to be honest. It’s not fair on your colleagues or yourself.’

  ‘But I’m all right. I’ve been sick a few times, but I can work through it –

  and I’m taking tablets …’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not good enough. I don’t want you to be sick when you’re out seeing a client again – it won’t put the firm in a very good light. Take the next two weeks off and get yourself right. On your return we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘What about working in the office?’

  ‘Angie, I’m not suggesting anything yet. Obviously I want you to carry on doing the job you’re being paid for. But if that isn’t possible, we’ll have to find something else for you to do. Let’s keep our options open, shall we?’