16. Helen
HELEN
Helen was sitting on what had become her favourite place to unwind - the sofa overlooking the cove, even though she wasn’t interested in the view this time.
Instead, she was replaying her morning with Nigel and working out what it meant.
One thing was certain: she was still attracted to him.
Nothing that had happened today had changed that.
And there were a few moments when she thought he might have been attracted to her.
But that might be wishful thinking, especially after Carrie’s comment about his kiss meaning he must have had some feelings for her.
Not that it mattered because getting involved with him again, even as friends, was a high-risk strategy.
What if he reconciled with Madison? They were married after all.
Couples went through bad patches, and Nigel and Madison had kids together.
It was a lot to throw away. But then what sort of woman walks out on her newly unemployed husband at Christmas, then ghosts him completely?
There must be something that Nigel wasn’t telling her.
Helen grabbed her laptop from the table and opened up her web browser.
She googled Nigel first. She’d done that years ago when she’d first had her own laptop.
There hadn’t been much about him then. Just a Facebook page that was very locked down.
She’d had her cursor poised over the Add Friend button at one point when he appeared in her “People you may know” section, but she’d decided that it would be an incredibly stupid thing to do.
She couldn’t find him on Facebook now at all - he’d probably locked it down completely.
But he was on LinkedIn. Nice profile photo - a professional shot, by the look of it.
His job title was still showing as CFO - Insurance Sector.
She scrolled down. His whole career history was visible.
There was the company he’d worked for in London when he left uni.
He’d had several roles with them. Her eyes were drawn to the one that started in September 1999 in their New York office.
He’d carried on working for them for another eight years.
Then there were several other jobs before he’d joined Bartons in 2014.
Ten years. Several glowing recommendations but no clue as to why he’d resigned.
In fact, he hadn’t updated his profile for months - as far as LinkedIn was concerned, he was still working for them. Obviously, not job hunting. Curious.
She scrolled back up in case she’d missed something.
She had. There was a miniature version of Carrie’s profile pic - she was listed as a mutual connection.
No wonder Helen had been able to see so much information.
Carrie had never said a word about connecting to Nigel.
She was a museum curator. Why would she have an accountant as a connection?
Helen picked up her phone and WhatsApped Carrie
Why have you got Nigel as a connection on LinkedIn?
The ticks didn’t turn blue. Carrie was probably still on the plane back to Heathrow.
Helen looked back at her Google search. There was an old article on a finance website about Nigel joining Bartons, but nothing else.
She took a deep breath. Now for Mrs Farnham.
Madison Farnham didn’t bring up anyone who looked like they could be Nigel’s wife. Perhaps she still used her maiden name professionally.
‘You alright, Mum?’
She looked up at Harry, who was making a beeline for the fridge. ‘You’ll wear a groove in our kitchen tiles, the amount of times you walk over there.’
‘But I’m starving,’ he said as he grabbed a Pepperami and a can of Coke.
‘I’ll cook dinner when I’ve finished this.’
‘Will you be long?’
“No, I’ve come to a bit of an impasse, unless you’re any good at researching people on the Internet?’
‘Who are you looking for?’
You didn’t think that through, did you? What are you going to say now, Helen?
‘I’m trying to remember a client’s wife’s name. She doesn’t use his surname.’
He glanced at her screen. ‘You’ve got LinkedIn open. Look on his profile there. Chances are they’ll be connected.’
‘That education hasn’t been wasted on you. Thank you.’
But he’d already gone back upstairs.
Helen opened Nigel’s profile page again and looked through his connections. He’d acquired several hundred over the years. She sorted them into alphabetical order and scrolled down.
There was only one Madison - Madison Styneson, Founder and Creative Director of the Sloane & Avery Gallery. And she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Helen sighed.
You should stop there. This is not making you happy.
She drummed her fingers on the laptop. Her inner voice was right, but sod that.
She searched for the Sloane & Avery Gallery.
The first hit gave her the gallery’s website: very professional, showcasing expensive paintings in what looked like a posh location just off Madison Avenue, of course.
And the icing on the cake: a full-length photo of Madison Styneson, mid-40s, perfect figure, expensively dressed, subtle makeup with possibly a hint of Botox, and not a varicose vein in sight.