TWENTY-THREE
THE ONE WHERE YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT
Alex
I stormed back to my lodge, slamming the door shut behind me.
That had been so humiliating at dinner. I could hardly believe Oliver had done that.
He was playing right into Henderson’s hands.
How did Oliver expect us to maintain an open relationship when he was there?
How had I made the mistake of even thinking getting involved with my boss was a good idea?
I should have left when I had the chance.
I went over to the kitchen, yanking open the cupboard doors and pulling out the flour, eggs and scales. I needed to do something to stop myself from going mad. Baking was my comfort. It was constructive, not destructive. There had been far too much of that in my life already.
I could hardly think straight about what Oliver had done. I mashed up the bananas, feeling some of the tension release with the physical activity. I counted my breathing. Controlled it. By the time I was weighing out the flour, my hand was steady, my heart rate under some sort of control.
I didn’t like that I had flown at Oliver in that way. Vented and raged. That wasn’t me. Well, not the version of me I liked.
I poured the mixture into the bread tin.
I needed to work out how to deal with Henderson.
How to solve the problem. To say I didn’t know what he wanted would be wrong, and it sent a shiver up my spine.
Largely, I blocked out what had happened, but sometimes it managed to sneak its way back into my mind.
I put the two loaf tins in the oven, and, as I closed the door, sank down onto the floor, my back propped against the island counter. And let the tears come.
The memories of what happened were like looking through smoky glass.
Distant and unreal. It had been so long since I had allowed myself to even think about it.
The emotions were even worse. Remembering how I felt.
How utterly desperate and vulnerable I had been.
I’d somehow detached myself from it, but not tonight. All those emotions were there.
I sat there for a long time after I had stopped crying.
Staring through the glass door of the oven, watching the banana loaves rise.
I had to find a way through this. An answer.
I didn’t know what, and that was the problem.
How did I deal with someone like Henderson?
How did I protect Oliver and, in turn, his son?
If something happened to Oliver, Noah would suffer.
Part of me wanted to believe that they were safe and Henderson was bluffing.
But I’d called his bluff once before and it had cost me dearly.
I wasn’t prepared to do it again at the expense of two innocent people.
The loaves were done, and only then did I get up and take them out of the oven, turning them over onto a cooling rack.
The smell of freshly baked bread and banana filled the lodge.
All the time, I was thinking about how I could deal with Henderson.
I was tired of running, but I wasn’t tired of fighting.
It was getting late now. I hadn’t heard from Oliver. No phone call, no text message, no FaceTime. I didn’t know how I felt about that. At least I hadn’t had to ignore his call, but at the same time, part of me, the part that wasn’t angry or frightened, wanted to speak to him so badly.
I took a shower and climbed into bed. I needed this day to be over.
I woke earlier than normal, and the first thing I did was check my phone.
Nothing. I sat up and tried to get a sense of how I felt about it all in the cold light of day.
The anger had gone, but the fear hadn’t.
That was still very real, sitting high in my throat, blocking my airways.
I was no clearer how I was going to tackle Henderson.
Oliver, though, I had to wait for him to come to me. I was cross but not in that angry way I’d been last night when I was panicking. I was cross with myself for bringing this to his door and not knowing how to solve it.
I pulled on my running kit and stepped out into the dawn, deciding to skip breakfast and go for a longer run instead.
I wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. I set off at a gentle jog along the edge of the loch, and instead of following the shoreline, once I neared the wellness centre, I took the track into the woods behind the building.
The snow had melted in the woods, and the ground underfoot was comparatively soft compared to the more exposed grass and paths surrounding the water, where patches of frost remained.
My breath was visible in the cold February air as the weak winter light began to filter through the trees.
I pushed myself harder than I normally would. I needed to run myself clean of thought. Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Keep going forward. My calf muscles protested as the terrain grew steeper and more demanding. I pushed harder. Pushed through the pain.
The further I ascended, the more the trees thinned.
The track narrowed and twisted its way up the hill, and in places I was using my hands to pull myself up the rocky side.
It was colder up here, and the wind whipped strands of my hair free from the tie.
I could see the top through the misty morning and pushed myself on harder, finally reaching the flat surface where it plateaued, known as The Shelf.
I stood on top of the hill, my hands on my hips, catching my breath and looking down on the Risk Estate. From there, it looked idyllic. Tucked away in rural Scotland, away from the stresses of life. I could see why Oliver and his brothers chose it as a place for veterans. It was perfect for them.
It was also perfect for Oliver. He needed this as much as his clients did.
He was one of life’s fixers. He saw the problem and fixed it.
And, if I was going to dig deep into some sort of amateur psycho analysis, I’d say that came from some kind of childhood trauma.
Something he couldn’t fix. But maybe Risk Estate and everything it was trying to do could.
Whatever the root cause, Oliver needed this place and I was going to protect the protector.
I couldn’t let this fail. I couldn’t let Oliver fail.
I made my way down the hill, taking my time. A twisted ankle or worse was not what I needed right now. Grainger would have a field day, and I was not subjecting myself to that.
I navigated my way down safely and along the track around the north side of the loch, which passed the outbuildings, which were going to be converted into apartments.
It was too late to change my path. I saw two figures fixing the fencing. One was Henderson and the other was Oliver.
My pace slowed as I took in the scene. Henderson looked up and waved.
‘Morning, Alex!’
I slowed my pace some more until I was walking. Oliver straightened up, his hand resting on a fence post.
‘We missed you at breakfast,’ Henderson called over.
Was he doing it on purpose? Goading Oliver despite the not-so-subtle dressing down yesterday.
I looked past Henderson towards Oliver. His gaze met mine, and all the anger I’d been holding onto fell away. I kept walking.
‘You’re not stopping to help? Shame.’ Henderson’s voice carried across the morning air.
I ignored him and broke into a jog again as I worked through what it all meant.
Oliver was paying penance for showing Henderson up in front of everyone last night.
He hadn’t gone quietly to Henderson and in private.
Oliver was there, fixing the fence, in full view of everyone, when they all knew he’d told Henderson he was on his own.
Oliver wasn’t hiding away. He was there apologising for all to see.
I had nearly completed a full circuit when I saw Dom coming out of the gatehouse with Buddy. I slowed down and waited for man and dog to reach me.
‘Morning,’ I said, bending down to make a fuss of Buddy. ‘Good boy.’ I ruffled his ears. ‘You just going on a walk?’
‘How was your run?’ asked Dom.
‘Good. I went up to the top of the hill. Nice view from there.’
‘The top of Risk Point? Impressive.’
‘Only to The Shelf. Needed the challenge,’ I said. I looked back the way I’d come. ‘I just saw Oliver and… erm… Fletch.’
Dom nodded. ‘The fence line.’
‘Yeah.’ I didn’t know what I was trying to say to Dom. He said even less than Oliver, and we stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds.
Dom spoke first. ‘Oliver’s always hardest on himself.’ I looked at him, trying to fill in the gaps. Dom gave a nod. ‘See you later. Come on, Buddy.’
I stood there watching him continue his walk before I turned away and slowly walked back to my lodge, turning over Dom’s comment about Oliver.
As I entered my lodge, I knew I needed to speak to Oliver before he went back to London. I didn’t want him to leave with this hanging over us.
I showered and dressed, then grabbed the banana loaves and took them over to the canteen barn.
Jez, the cook, and the KP, who I thought was called Sam, were in the kitchen, getting lunch prepped and making sure there was fresh tea and coffee ready for the mid-morning break.
‘What you got there?’ asked Jez as I put the two loaves on the worktop.
‘Just something for the tea break today. Banana loaf.’
‘Oh, the famous banana loaf,’ said Jez. ‘I’ve heard about this.’
I raised my eyebrows in question. ‘You have?’
‘Aye, Grainger told me all about it.’
‘Don’t be telling her that. It will go to her head.’
I looked behind me, and there was Grainger coming into the barn.
‘Ha! You’ve been busted,’ I said. ‘I always knew you loved my baking.’
‘Haven’t you got anything else in your repertoire other than banana loaf?’ said Grainger, picking up a cup and spooning coffee into it.
Jez chuckled. ‘That sounds like a challenge to me.’
‘Challenge accepted,’ I declared.
Neither said anything. I looked between the two men and sensed a change in atmosphere. Grainger’s gaze flicked beyond my shoulder.
‘Boss,’ he said, then glanced at me before filling his cup with hot water.
I appreciated the forewarning. I turned around, and both Oliver and Henderson were there. Oliver’s gaze held mine for a couple of seconds as he walked towards the tea and coffee station.
‘Tea?’ he asked, looking at me.
I nodded. ‘Thanks.’
As Oliver made my drink, I looked over at Henderson.
He was waiting to get to the coffee machine while watching me.
He had that look on his face that I recognised.