after September so you are free to help out with Wave Fest.’ Fliss wasn’t giving up.
‘Fliss, Lawrie isn’t interested in the festival; she has a job to find. Plus, if she’s still being paid by her firm then she won’t be able to work for us—will you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It’s not law, so it’s not a conflict of interest, but I don’t think I can take paid work whilst on gardening leave. I’ll have to check the contract, but it would be unusual if it was allowed.’
‘Volunteer! We could pay your expenses and it would look great on your CV, using your time to help out with a charity event. Come on, Lawrie. It’s total serendipity, you being here just when we need you. You can’t argue with fate!’
‘Fliss!’
Jonas was sounding annoyed, but the word ‘volunteer’ had struck a chord with Lawrie. She tuned the pair out.
She liked to keep busy, and the thought of spending the forseeable future with nothing to do but job-hunt terrified her. Besides, her CV was already with the best recruiters in the business, so there was little she could do until they got in touch. Most importantly she had been racking her brains, searching for a likely explanation for her sudden departure from Forrest, Gable & Garner that prospective employers would find acceptable—laudable, even. If she could tell them that she’d taken the opportunity of severance to help out with a charity festival surely that would stand her in good stead? Every company liked a bit of free CSR in these straitened times.
Okay, it wasn’t part of the ten-point plan, but which part of the last few weeks had been? Not finding Hugo labouring over his naked secretary, not watching the senior partners close ranks as they took his side and forced her out with a nice settlement and a good reference for keeping her mouth shut.
She had returned to Trengarth to lick her wounds, to regroup. Why not wring something positive out of her situation?
‘Please?’ Fliss looked pleading. ‘Come on, Lawrie, you’ll be perfect.’
‘I’ll do it.’ The words left her mouth before she knew exactly what she was going to say.
Fliss squealed and flung her arms around Lawrie, but Jonas took a step back, his mouth tight, his eyes unreadable.
What have I done?
‘If that’s okay with you, of course, Jonas,’ she added, not entirely sure what she wanted his answer to be—whether he would give her a get-out clause she didn’t even know she needed. But he didn’t answer—just continued to look at her with the same cool, steady regard.
Fliss jumped in before the silence stretched too far, got too awkward. ‘It’s fine, isn’t it, Jonas? This is fantastic! I was going to get all the stuff from Suzy today, but why don’t you come with me and meet her? Is tomorrow okay? Oh, Lawrie, it’ll be just like old times, us working together.’
Fliss beamed at Lawrie, who couldn’t help but smile back. Her old friend’s joy was infectious.
‘It looks like that’s settled, then.’ Jonas’s face was still blank, his voice cool and professional. ‘Lawrie, I’ll chat to you tomorrow and go over the work involved, discuss how this will work as a volunteering role. Be sure this is something you can take on, though. Wave Fest raises tens of thousands for local charities. If you can’t manage it it’s imperative you let us know sooner rather than later.’
He sounded dismissive—as if he was expecting her to fail, to walk away.
How dared he? She’d negotiated million-pound contracts, painstakingly going over every single word, scrutinising each clause, routinely working sixty-hour weeks, often on short notice. One month sorting out a small local event would hardly tax her.
She lifted her head and looked straight at him, matching him cool glance for cool glance, every bit the professional, well-trained lawyer. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage. I like to see things through.’
He kept her gaze, scorn filling the blue eyes, turning them ice-cold. ‘I’m sure you’ve grown up,’ he said. ‘But if there’s a chance you’ll get a job and leave before the contract ends I need to know. Promises aren’t enough.’
She swallowed down her rage. If she had learnt anything from long hours of negotiating complex contracts it was how to keep her temper, no matter what the provocation. If he wanted to judge her on events that had happened nine years ago, so be it.
But she had promised to love him till death did them part. And that promise she had broken.
Did she actually need this hassle? The sensible thing would be to walk away, right now, lock up the cottage and go back to London. But then what? She had nowhere to live, nothing to do. At least in Cornwall she had a house, and now a way to occupy her time whilst finding the perfect job, getting her life back to the calm, ordered way it was supposed to be. And if that meant showing Jonas Jones that he was wrong—that the past wasn’t as clear-cut as he obviously thought—well, that was just a bonus.
She smiled sweetly into the freezing eyes.
‘I’ll need to take time to sort out my move, of course,’ she said, proud that her voice was steady. ‘And there is a chance that I may need to travel abroad for interviews. But there will be plenty of notice. There shouldn’t—there won’t be a problem.’
‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The interview was clearly over.
‘Enjoy the rest of your birthday.’
Fliss looked up in shock. ‘It’s your birthday? Here I am, thinking about spreadsheets and emails and offices, and what I should be doing is ordering you a cocktail to go with that cake. What are you doing later? I’m sure you have plans, but we could meet here for cocktails first?’
Lawrie’s first instinct was to lie—to claim company, plans, unavailability. But Jonas had stopped, turned, was listening, and she couldn’t let him know she was ashamed of her lone state. ‘Actually, Fliss, I was planning a quiet one this year. I have a nice bottle of red and a good book saved up.’
It was the truth, and she had been looking forward to indulging in both. So why did it feel like a confession?
‘A good book? I know you’ve been gone a long time, but nobody changes that much. Of course we’re going to celebrate. I’ll see you here for cocktails at seven, and then there’s Open Mic Night later. Perfect! Jonas, you can pick her up. We don’t want the birthday girl to be late.’
‘Honestly—’ Lawrie began, not sure what panicked her more: Jonas picking her up like old times, the chance that she might let her guard down after a cocktail, or spending her thirtieth birthday with the same people who had celebrated her eighteenth. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Jonas’s expression was indecipherable, his voice emotionless. ‘Fliss is right. You can’t spend your birthday alone. Besides, you used to enjoy singing. It’ll be just like old times.’
And that, thought Lawrie, was exactly what she was afraid of.
CHAPTER TWO
‘SO THIS IS where you’re hiding.’
Jonas
