The Missing Husband. Amanda Brooke
they were going to be parents – one that he had snuffed out again last night. ‘I bet you’re glad you didn’t have to go out into the storm this morning, aren’t you?’ she went on. ‘I can’t believe your dad even thought to ask.’
Jo suspected that David still preferred living in denial. That was why it was taking him forever to get around to clearing the second bedroom in preparation for a nursery and why he expected his pregnant wife to get up in the middle of the night to drive him to the station. It was ironic, really, because it had been David who had first devised their family plan.
‘How many children do you want?’ he had asked her.
Jo was lying on a sun lounger at the time, listening to the waves crashing on to the shore of a tiny Grecian island as David rubbed suntan lotion over her body in slow sweeping caresses. ‘Where did that come from?’ she had asked with a laugh that made her perfectly flat stomach wobble beneath his wandering hand.
‘After two years, it’s a bit late for a honeymoon baby but still … that biological clock of yours is ticking away. I can hear it.’
‘That’s probably just my arthritic knees clicking now I’ve reached the advanced age of twenty-six.’
David had continued to rub the lotion into her skin, his fingers moving in sensuous arcs. ‘This has nothing to do with getting old and everything to do with the way you go all gooey-eyed when you see a baby.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Oh, you go gooey-eyed over me too.’ He had waited for the smile on Jo’s face to broaden then said, ‘We were watching you at breakfast. You couldn’t take your eyes off that little boy sitting with his mum at the next table.’
‘We?’
‘There was a little old dear sitting behind us. She collared me later and patted my hand. “Give that woman her babies,” she said.’
Jo had giggled. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t the one who wanted your babies?’ She had paused then as she met his eyes. He was serious. ‘Two. I want two babies, David. A mini me and a mini you, but only when the time’s right.’
David had leaned back and nodded slowly, his fingers hooked under his chin and his thumb resting on the prominent groove in the middle of it while he remained deep in thought. He had then proceeded to explain the plan he was hatching in a way that only a project manager could, with timelines and milestones and of course, deliverables. He had started off by listing all the other goals they had set themselves. There were qualifications to excel at and promotions to secure for both of them. ‘I’d say we’ll be ready in four years’ time,’ he had concluded.
‘Ah, when I reach the big three-oh.’
‘Which still gives us plenty of time to practise.’
David had resumed massaging her sun-kissed skin, and Jo had to put her hand over his before his roaming fingers breached public decency laws. ‘Let’s go back to our room,’ she had said with a contented smile, no doubt in her mind that the future laid out before them had been set in stone.
That long-forgotten smile made a brief appearance as Jo picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder, but the pull of material across her chest was tight enough to constrict her breathing and she sighed in frustration as she was reminded how easily David had discarded their plans. She had been the one to pick up the pieces and glue back together the life they had planned, the one she was convinced would make them happy – if only David could remember it was something he had wanted too.
The rain was torrential as she drove the twenty miles to a building site north of Southport for her first meeting of the day. The foul weather had snarled up the traffic and as soon as she realized she was going to be late, Jo telephoned Kelly. She didn’t want her over-eager assistant starting the meeting without her. Kelly was in her early twenties and had worked as Jo’s assistant for three years but while she had acquired an unrivalled knowledge of policy and procedures, she still had a lot to learn.
‘What have I missed?’ Jo panted as she shook the worst of the rain from her umbrella before leaving it propped up next to the Portakabin door. She had to strain her ears to hear Kelly’s reply above the cacophony created by the rain hammering against the metal roof and a radio blasting out from the room next door.
‘Only the offer of a cuppa.’
Kelly was sitting at a table with her notepad at the ready. Even from this distance, Jo knew that the neat script on the open page was a list of the key points for the meeting. The air of professionalism Kelly was trying to project was lost slightly by the mounds of coffee-stained paperwork scattered across the table in front of her, which from recollection had a Formica top.
To say Jo liked order and cleanliness was an understatement and she tried not to notice the mess as she slipped off her coat and pulled self-consciously at her navy blue Jasper Conran dress. It had a bias cut that was meant to be forgiving but not enough to cope with her ever-growing bump.
‘I think I’ve doubled in size overnight,’ she said.
‘That dress must be two sizes too small now,’ Kelly said helpfully as she absentmindedly ran a finger down the row of buttons on her cream satin blouse, which fitted her trim figure perfectly.
‘Thanks, Kelly, you certainly know how to make a girl feel better.’
‘You’re pregnant, for goodness’ sake; you’re allowed to be fat.’
Fortunately, Jo knew Kelly well enough to know that her bluntness wasn’t ill-intended but the comment still stung. ‘Like I said, you know how to make a girl feel better.’
Kelly mumbled an apology and a frown creased her brow as she returned her attention to her notepad while Jo pulled her ponytail tight and tried to flatten her damp fringe, which had surrendered sleekness to frizz thanks to the atrocious weather, unlike Kelly’s short-cropped hair, which had been gelled to within an inch of its life.
As Jo approached the table, Kelly crossed and uncrossed her legs. The hem on one of her trouser legs was unravelling and her colleague’s imperfections should have made Jo feel a little less shambolic, but the mud-spattered flap of material only served to irritate her. Hesitating before she took a seat, Jo glanced towards the door that led to the kitchen. ‘I could do with a coffee right now to warm me up.’
Her words were drowned out by a loud burst of music and laughter as the internal door opened. Jim’s arrival was accompanied by the smell of bacon and toast.
‘I’m already one step ahead,’ he said, holding up three mugs that slopped about as he moved. ‘Coffee, milk, no sugar.’
Jo was only drinking decaf these days but didn’t want to appear rude. Besides, she could do with just a little caffeine to liven her up so she took the proffered cup and wrapped her hands eagerly around it. She tried not to notice the brown staining on the inside of the cup above (and undoubtedly below) the steaming liquid. ‘You’re a mind reader,’ she said.
‘I caught a glimpse of someone running across the yard under a frilly umbrella and guessed it wasn’t one of my lot.’
‘There are women working here too,’ Kelly reminded him evenly.
‘None that need umbrellas on a building site,’ he said, matching her tone. ‘And if you and Jo fancied getting your hands dirty and wanted to go beyond this cosy little office, you’d be kitted out with hard hats and hi-viz jackets too.’
Jo met the foreman’s gaze and gave him a silent apology. Jim was in his late fifties and had worked all over the world for construction companies, big and small. But where Jo recognized his wealth of experience, her assistant was more preoccupied by his occasional lapses in political correctness. Kelly’s years of study had given her strong principles as well as making her something of a bureaucrat. She looked on managers like Jim as dinosaurs and it was a view that Jim wasn’t afraid to reinforce, if only to wind her up.
‘Shall we get started?’ Jo asked.
Kelly’s