59. Nigel
NIGEL
‘I’m back,’ Nigel shouted as he closed the front door and hung up his coat. ‘It’s cold out there.’
Then he noticed his bag in the middle of the hallway with his laptop perched on top.
Helen emerged from the kitchen. ‘You need to go.’
‘But I’m not flying out to New York until Monday.’
She was scowling at him, her arms crossed. ‘I know that. I mean, go, as in leave this house and don’t come back.’
His heart was thundering in his chest. This wasn’t happening, surely. ‘What have I done?’
‘You lied to me.’
‘When?’
‘Less than half an hour ago. That appointment on Tuesday isn’t an old one at all. You’re being investigated for fraud.’
He was speechless. How had she come to that conclusion?
She must’ve guessed what he was wondering. ‘I looked at your emails. I know I shouldn’t have done, but I’m still traumatised by Angus lying to me, so I had to know.’
‘I’m not a fraudster, Helen. Surely you know that?’
‘You would say that, wouldn’t you.’
‘No, I …’
‘Trying to come up with a good cover story, Nigel? Don’t waste your time and mine. I want you to leave.’ Her voice was amazingly calm. He’d never seen her play the ice queen before.
‘I can’t tell you all the ins and outs of it. I’ve signed an NDA.’
She huffed. ‘That’s very convenient. Are you going to leave now, like I’ve asked you to?’
He could see Harry standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Mum, are you ok?’
‘I will be when Nigel’s left.’ She kicked his bag towards him along the polished wood floor.
Harry jogged down the stairs. ‘You heard her. Fuck off.’
Nigel weighed up his chances. He wasn’t going to suffer the indignity of Harry helping him out of the house. He grabbed his bag and his laptop.
‘I’ll call you later,’ he said.
‘Don’t bother. I’ve blocked your number,’ Helen said as she followed him to the door.
As he stepped onto the drive, she slammed it behind him with a sickening sense of finality.
How the hell are you going to fix this, Nige?
There were no other cars on the drive at the Grange when Nigel pulled up outside. He let himself in the back door.
‘Hello.’
No response. Of course. His mother and Klaus would be on their way to Heathrow ready to fly out to New York. And Mark and Lucy were often out in the middle of the day. Alone again, Nige.
His stomach rumbled. He realised he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But he couldn’t face food. He put his laptop on the kitchen table, made a mug of tea, and sat down.
He opened up the laptop. Once he’d entered his password, his calendar appeared on the screen, and that damned appointment. Why had he lied about it?
He’d panicked, that’s why. He wasn’t meant to tell a soul what was going on.
He’d told Madison, though, when it all blew up last year. She’d laughed. ‘You’re too honest, Nigel. You should’ve turned a blind eye to those figures. How do you think my father earned his fortune? You don’t make millions from emptying septic tanks without cooking the books sometimes.’
But this had been cooking the books on a major scale.
And the people who’d lose out were the shareholders, many of whom were Barton’s own employees, swapping their shares for ones in the new company that were worth less than half the amount they’d been led to believe. How was he supposed to ignore that?
He switched to his mail app. Rebecca’s email appeared on the screen.
He read it again. He could see why Helen had jumped to the conclusion that he was the one in the wrong. If their roles were reversed, he would’ve probably thought the same of her. Or would he? He would’ve given Helen a chance to explain. But that was easy to say. Helen had been burnt before.
He logged into his bank account and started downloading the statements Rebecca had asked for.
He looked through the long lists of numbers.
Mortgage payments, school fees, allowances for the girls, groceries.
There were only a few indulgences for himself: the occasional made-to-measure suit, a new pair of handmade leather Oxford lace-ups every year, and the latest MacBook or iPad. Perhaps he should send copies to Helen.
But they wouldn’t prove anything. She’d think if he’d had his hand in the till, he’d have been clever enough to keep any dodgy payments in another account.
How do you prove you’re innocent when you’ve signed an NDA? He could ask Rebecca to put something in writing, but what? “Trust Nigel, he’s the innocent party in all of this.” With Helen in her current mood, she’d think he’d bribed Rebecca to say that.
He had no choice but to cross his fingers and hope this was all resolved quickly.