TWO
CHANGE OF PLAN
Oliver
If I pressed the sodding phone any harder to my ear, I’d push it through my skull.
‘Answer the fucking phone, Marsha.’
It rang out. Voicemail.
‘Marsha, it’s me, Oliver,’ I said, because apparently I’d decided I needed to introduce myself properly to my ex-wife today. ‘What’s going on? You were supposed to be here to pick up Noah.’
I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bed harder than necessary. For a second, I just stood there, hands on my hips, forcing a slow breath in, then out.
That woman had an impressive ability to wind me up like no other person could. The only good thing to come out of that marriage was Noah. The thought of him eased the tension in my chest a fraction.
I’d woken up to a text message from her saying she couldn’t pick Noah up and she was going to be away for a few days, so he’d have to stay with me.
The staying with me wasn’t the problem, he lived with me.
It was the fact that she was bailing once again on her weekend with him.
Once a fortnight wasn’t great, but that’s all she’d asked for.
I checked the time and walked back through to the living room, where Noah was sitting watching some cartoon show.
‘When’s Mum coming?’ he asked.
‘There’s been a change of plan,’ I said, trying to sound casual.
Noah sat up and looked over at me. ‘She’s not coming, is she?’
I looked at him for a moment, trying to read his expression, to look for that moment of realisation and disappointment, but it wasn’t there. I hadn’t missed it. It just never appeared.
‘She’s got something on this weekend,’ I said, sitting down on the sofa next to him.
Noah looked back at the TV. ‘She said she was going on holiday.’
Now that was news to me, but I wasn’t about to cross-examine my eight-year-old about it.
I looked down at him. Perfectly still. Not giving anything away.
He was protecting me. At eight years old, he was already managing my reactions, smoothing things over, and making it easier.
In fact, that knowledge just made it all the more painful.
I hated that he felt he needed to do that.
A polite cough from the doorway pulled me out of the thought.
Paddy stood there, already in his coat, keys in hand. ‘Car’s ready, Boss.’
‘Five minutes,’ I said.
He nodded once and disappeared. We’d been in the Royal Marines together, he’d left a few years before me, and we’d hooked up again when I retired from the military. He’d been down on his luck, and I’d been up on mine, so I’d given him a job. One he deserved. Not one from pity.
I went back to my bedroom to grab my phone. My thumb hovered over Marsha’s name, and then I pressed call. Straight to voicemail again.
I grabbed my jacket from the hanger and slid the knot of my tie into place. A few more weeks and I’d be done with all this. No more suits or ties. No more London. Scotland wouldn’t need any of that. Risk Harbour wouldn’t need any of that. I was counting the days.
The phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced at the screen. Finally. I accepted the call and didn’t wait for unnecessary greetings.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half hour, Marsha,’ I said, already moving and heading for the door.
‘I messaged you,’ she replied.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ I could hear chatter in the background, the noise of people in a large space. ‘Where are you?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. You’ve dumped your son at the last minute.’
‘Sorry. I meant to tell you earlier.’
‘What are you doing that’s so important you can’t see Noah?’ I could hear the tension in my voice.
‘I’m going on holiday,’ she said. ‘I’m at Heathrow, and I’m about to head to the gate.’
I stopped at the door. ‘Why didn’t I know about this?’
‘It was last minute.’
I lowered my voice. ‘What about Noah?’
‘What about Noah? He stays with you,’ she said. ‘Like he will when you move to the Outer Bloody Hebrides or wherever it is you’re going.’
‘Risk, near Inverness.’
‘Yeah, well, might as well be the moon.’
‘You’ll still see him. We agreed.’
‘I need to go.’ I could tell she was moving as she spoke. ‘I’ll message when I get back.’
‘And exactly when is that? It’s Christmas in two days. Noah was coming to you for a week.’
‘I’ll make it up to him when I’m back.’
I closed my eyes briefly, counting once before I spoke. ‘You can’t just let him down like that.’
‘It will be fine. You should be thanking me. You get our son for Christmas,’ she said lightly. ‘Make up for the first four years when you were playing hero for the army somewhere else every Christmas.’
Not only did she have the ability to wind me up, but she also possessed the first-class skill of sticking the knife in and twisting it where it hurt me the most.
‘Marsha––’
‘Sorry. Got to go. Happy Christmas, Oliver.’
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, reining in the anger that was bubbling in my chest. The door opened, and Noah stepped into the room.
‘It’s okay, Dad. I like being with you.’
He must have been listening. My heart didn’t know what it wanted to do at that precise moment. Swell with pride or break with pain. He shouldn’t have had to say it. Noah was trying to manage my emotions. No eight-year-old kid should have to do that. I knew exactly what it cost.
I smiled. ‘I like being with you too.’ I pocketed my phone. ‘Right, you get to come to work with me.’
I mentally ran through my diary as we made our way down in the lift to the basement garage.
Nine o’clock was the Sinclair meeting. A big contract that we needed.
Ten-thirty was the interview. Joe, another former military mate, had put this fella Cartwright forward personally, which meant something. Joe didn’t waste anyone’s time, least of all his own.
Both appointments were fixed. Both needed me there. Which, by default, meant Noah coming along too.
Then the lift doors opened to garage.
Paddy was already stepping forward, opening the back door of the 4x4.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes and no,’ I said, helping Noah up before climbing in beside him.
Paddy shut the door without another question.
Good man.
I leaned back into the seat and pulled up the calendar on my phone, scanning it quickly, already rearranging what could be moved and what couldn’t.
The Sinclair deal wasn’t just another security overhaul.
Land this one, and it funded the project up at Risk Harbour, the one that kept my brothers and me up at night for entirely different reasons than profit margins.
A retreat. Space. Quiet. Somewhere for ex-servicemen and women who needed just that, long or short term.
Aaron was still here in London but would be joining me in Scotland soon. Dom would stay behind in London for a while until we were ready to move all operations to Risk.
The place was coming together.
We reached the office with half an hour to spare before the Sinclair meeting.
The Christmas decorations in the reception area were tasteful but festive.
Nothing over the top, keeping the professional image we maintained for clients.
Someone had put a small sprig of holly on the front desk. Miranda’s doing, almost certainly.
‘Morning, Miranda,’ I said.
‘Good morning, Oliver.’ Miranda had worked reception for the past five years, and her eyes lit up when she saw Noah. ‘Oh, and good morning to you too, Master Laker.’
‘Hello,’ Noah replied.
‘You coming to keep an eye on your dad today?’
She glanced at me. Miranda managed the diary. She knew perfectly well Noah was supposed to be with his mum. She had the tact not to say so.
‘New security detail,’ I said.
Miranda leaned over the desk towards Noah. ‘Your uncle Aaron is waiting in your dad’s office. Don’t tell your dad, though,’ she whispered theatrically.
‘He’s supposed to be in a meeting,’ I said, half to myself as I headed up the carpeted staircase to my office.
As we approached my office, I heard the distinctive sound of Aaron tossing that stress ball of his against the wall. Rhythmic. And annoying as hell.
‘Uncle Aaron!’ Noah ran on ahead, pushing open the heavy office door.
‘Hey there, big man,’ Aaron’s voice called out.
The door slammed shut behind Noah, but I could hear the laughter. Noah idolised his uncle. I pushed the door open.
‘Making yourself comfortable in my chair again.’
Aaron grinned, his feet propped on my desk, the ball finally stilled.
‘Just sizing it up.’
I dropped my briefcase beside the desk. ‘Some of us have actual work to do today. What happened to your eight-thirty breakfast meeting?’
‘Cancelled.’ He sat up properly. ‘The flight got grounded in Geneva. Weather.’
‘So you’re here to what, annoy me instead?’
‘I thought I’d sit in on your ten-thirty.’ He studied my face, his expression grew serious. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Mum’s gone on holiday,’ Noah said before I could speak.
Aaron raised an eyebrow in my direction. ‘Holiday? Now?’
‘Yeah, you know Marsha,’ I said, going over to the coffee machine and pouring myself a drink.
Aaron had already set a mug out for me. Black, no sugar. From the fridge, I took an orange juice for Noah.
Aaron’s playful demeanour shifted instantly. The bond between him and Noah had always been strong. I could see he was picking his words carefully.
‘And you found out… recently?’
I made a grunting noise.
‘Dad will tell you later,’ said Noah, extracting himself from Aaron’s arm. ‘But basically, Mum has gone on holiday with Cam, her boyfriend, and I’m staying at home for Christmas. But I have to come to work because Nan is also on holiday.’
‘Ah. I see,’ said Arron, finally taking his feet off my desk. ‘Well, today is your lucky day. Seeing as I’m free for an hour and a half, how about we go get some breakfast?’
‘Can I?’ Noah turned to look at me.
‘Sure. Of course you can.’
‘I’ll be back in time for the interview,’ said Aaron. ‘It’s the one Joe recommended, right?’
‘Yeah. Alex Cartwright.’
‘Joe’s solid. If he says this person is good, then they must be.’
I almost smiled. ‘This person.’ We’d see about that. Joe had a habit of being right, which was precisely why I trusted him and precisely why it was occasionally irritating.
Aaron tossed the stress ball at me unexpectedly, a test of reflexes that dated back to childhood days. I caught it one-handed without spilling my coffee.
‘Still got it, big brother,’ he said with approval. ‘Oh, by the way, we haven’t heard from Grainger yet. I’ll chase it up when I’m back from our banquet breakfast.’
I nodded. Grainger was our man up at Risk Estate, keeping an eye on things while no-one was there.
A former veteran, he was totally reliable and capable.
I wasn’t overly concerned. The weather up at Risk was unpredictable at this time of year, and power cuts weren’t uncommon.
The phone signal up there was a bastard at the best of times. He’d check in when he could. Still.
‘Chase it up,’ I said. ‘Let me know.’
‘Sure. See you later.’
‘Don’t be late.’
‘When am I ever late?’ Aaron asked with mock offence, taking Noah’s hand as they headed for the door.
‘Dad’s wedding. Nearly missed your own best man’s speech.’
‘I was parking the car. Entirely different.’
The tension from the morning with Marsha eased a little. That had always been Aaron’s gift––the ability to lighten the mood.
As he left, I turned and looked out of the window.
Grey buildings, traffic, buses, and hurrying pedestrians filled the street.
Not for much longer. Soon it would be loch, mountains, and peace.
Hopefully, by the end of the day, a new Head of Medical Operations would be added to the growing list of Risk Estate employees.
Before that, though, the Sinclair file needed my attention.