The Bad Wife by Sarah Edghill

Author:Sarah Edghill [Edghill, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

30

When she got into work on Christmas Eve, Katie was surprised to find a card on her desk, from Fraser.

‘Thanks, that’s kind,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got you one I’m afraid; we’re not doing Christmas cards this year, cutting back and all that.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, stirring his mug of tea with a spoon. ‘I didn’t buy it specially for you, I had some left over from last year.’

‘Right. Well thanks anyway.’

Duncan came ambling out of his office, jingling his change in his pockets as usual. ‘All ready for the onslaught, Katie?’ he asked. ‘Got the bird prepped and the presents wrapped?’

‘Just about. Pete and the girls are off to pick up the turkey this morning. How about you?’

‘Yep. All in hand.’

Although she’d worked at Triple A for three years, she hadn’t learnt much about Duncan’s private life. He rarely spoke about his mousy wife, Sue – apart from sharing stories of her hormonal struggles – but had mentioned they lived on the new estate out towards Dunmore. He had two grown-up sons and had been in the same line of business all his life; he drove a BMW 5 Series estate, played golf, and he and Sue holidayed in Mallorca every summer. That, in a nutshell, was Duncan. Occasionally she tried to steer the conversation, ask how he’d spent his weekend, but he was never forthcoming.

In some ways that was a good thing: Fraser’s openness about every aspect of his social, sexual and personal life – whether she was interested or even listening – was lively enough for all of them, not to mention exhausting.

Soon after they started working together, the three of them had gone out for a meal at Christmas – their office party, they joked. But a few weeks later Fraser and Katie fell out and the atmosphere became strained. A festive lunch had never been suggested again. Instead, Duncan acknowledged the imminent arrival of Christmas by handing them each an envelope containing a crisp, chemical-smelling £50 note, and – with relief – they dispensed with the pretence of shared bonhomie.

There was hardly anything to do in the office this morning, apart from a small amount of paperwork that couldn’t wait until after the holiday. Just before midday, Duncan announced he was leaving shortly, so unless they wanted to spend Christmas locked within Triple A’s four walls, they should make themselves scarce. Fraser whooped and shut down his computer, leaping across the room to drag his coat and scarf off the hook by the door.

‘Adios, people, have a good one,’ he said. ‘May Father Christmas bring you everything you’ve asked for. Did you remember to put a sense of humour on your list this year, Katie?’

As she got into the car her phone rang.

‘Katie dear, are you out and about – can you do me a favour?’

Her heart sank. ‘Actually, Brenda, I’m just on the way home.’

‘You couldn’t pop into a chemist, could you? We’re nearly out of paracetamol and I’d quite like some cough mixture in case this tickle gets any worse.

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