Chapter Two
Daniel
Icheck the time. Damn, I’m late. Jo will be annoyed, though she’ll pretend otherwise, like she always does.
I text her to say I’m running late, then call the restaurant to ask them to hold our table.
The manager is very accommodating. Considering I’ll be spending over four hundred quid at their overpriced establishment tonight, I should bloody hope so.
It’s not like we’re dining at Pizza Hut.
I smile, remembering when Pizza Hut used to be our idea of a treat.
Then my mind drifts back to the first time I stepped into Mason’s.
It was the evening of my promotion. I was with Nic and high on adrenaline.
Lockwood and Holland were one of the most prestigious accountants in London.
We dealt with top-class clients from all over the world.
Getting promoted from accounts manager to chief finance officer was a dream come true, and although I’d worked hard to achieve that recognition, it still came as a surprise.
***
Nic swung open the doors with a grin, mischief lighting up his eyes. The ma?tre d’, immaculate in his black suit, greeted us with a refined nod. I’d passed Mason’s many times, noting its grand facade and gilded signage exuding exclusivity, but that was my first time inside.
Mason’s was elegance distilled. Everything about it whispered of wealth. Staff glided silently from table to table. The scent of expensive perfume hung in the air. The women sparkled with diamonds. It was a sanctuary for the rich; a world I had only glimpsed from the outside.
‘Mr Evans,’ the ma?tre d’ said warmly, recognising Nic immediately. ‘Good to see you again. Please follow me.’
‘Thank you, Ramone,’ said Nic.
We were led through the plush dining room, our footsteps silenced by thick carpets. As we sat, Nic gave the ma?tre d’ a showy nod.
‘Perfect, Ramone. We’ll start with a bottle of champagne.’
Nic relished moments like that. Revelled in them, in fact, like a child unwrapping a new toy.
As Ramone disappeared, I took in my surroundings. ‘This is going to wipe out my bank account,’ I murmured, only half joking.
Nic laughed. ‘It’s on me, you lucky bastard. It’s not every day you become CFO of a company like Lockwood and Holland. Soon, you’ll be a regular here.’
Floating somewhere between disbelief and pride, I raised my glass.
I'd hoped for a promotion, but this? This was beyond anything I had imagined. The salary alone was enough to transform our lives. With that and Jo’s salary as a paediatric surgeon, we’d no longer have to scrimp or rely on her parents for help. We could even hire a nanny for Joel.
Mason’s shimmered like a symbol of everything we’d worked for. As we toasted, I silently thanked whatever twist of fate had landed me there.
‘You fucking lucky bastard,’ Nic said, grinning.
A regular, he waved across the room at familiar faces. Nic Evans, board member at Lance and Holland, bachelor, well-off, and seemingly always between girlfriends. He wasn’t exactly my kind of person, but he’d backed me for the job, and I was grateful.
‘You were the right guy,’ he’d said. ‘Why else do you think I vouched for you?’
The waiter brought us the menu. I nearly fell off my chair when I saw the prices.
‘Cheers and congratulations,’ Nic said, lifting his glass.
We clinked flutes. The champagne sparkled.
The food was extraordinary: rich, refined, unlike anything I’d ever tasted.
‘Good, huh?’ Nic said through a mouthful of veal.
‘Wait until you taste the dessert. Fucking heaven.’ He held up an empty bottle of champagne.
‘Can’t have this!’ he said, and flagged down the waiter to order another.
‘I shouldn’t,’ I said weakly, already a little light-headed.
‘Of course you should. Get a taxi home. Enjoy the moment.’
So I did.
***
I pulled into our apartment block later than I’d hoped to. I knew Jo would be irritated, but she’d hide it behind humour. That’s who she is: patient, generous and kind.
How else do I describe Jo? She’s beautiful, inside and out.
We met at a friend’s wedding. She was there with someone else; a hospital consultant, I think.
But from the moment I saw her, I was smitten.
Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkled. Her lips, with that delicate Cupid’s bow, practically demanded to be kissed.
A cascade of blonde-highlighted curls framed her face.
She was, and is, a paediatric surgeon. So far removed from my modest world. But love doesn’t follow rules.
I chased her relentlessly. Her parents weren’t impressed. I was an accountant. Hard-working, yes, but not their vision of a son-in-law. I could tell. Her father, especially, made it clear that I didn’t measure up.
Things changed when I landed a job at Lance and Holland. Suddenly, I was someone.
Before I gained the life-changing promotion, Jo and I had pooled our earnings and bought the apartment in Oxford.
It was close enough for Jo to walk to the hospital, and it was our haven.
I tried not to let the fact that her father had put down the deposit eat away at me, but it did.
The smug way he handed over the cheque, as if I was a child who needed help. I’ll never forget it.
That’s why the promotion meant everything to me. I was a chief financial officer now. No one, not even Donald, my smug father-in-law, could take that away from me.
I remember coming home that night, after dinner with Nic, drunk on champagne and the thrill of success. I found Jo in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. She looked up, surprised.
‘You said it was a special dinner,’ she said. ‘How much have you had?’
‘About a bottle of champagne,’ I grinned. ‘Maybe more.’
She gasped.
‘Don’t worry. I got a taxi.’
I pulled the new contract from my jacket pocket and handed it to her. I watched her eyes move across the page, then widen.
‘Oh my God. Is that what they’re paying you?’
‘Yes. It’s all there, in black and white,’ I said.
She shrieked with joy. ‘Danny, does this mean we can buy the house?’
We’d talked a lot about the house, for months. It was an old fixer-upper in the Cotswolds. Acres of land. It needed everything done to it. But it had heart. Charm. A future. I pulled her into a hug. ‘I don’t think getting a second mortgage will be a problem.’
‘We could sell this place,’ she said.
‘We won’t need to. Besides, you’ll want it for when you’re on call. You hate those hospital beds.’
She kissed me. ‘Oh, Danny. My clever husband.’
I lifted her off her feet and spun her around, both of us laughing like teenagers. It was one of the best days. Then Neville Logan entered our lives and nothing was ever the same again.