Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox
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at his office this afternoon. I’m Malcolm Salter, his business partner.’
‘Oh, I see. The thing is, Malcolm, I need to speak to Molly. She is still there, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you ask her if she’ll come to the phone, please?’
There was a pause, during which Mal seemed to be considering Jack’s request. Then he said, ‘OK. I’ll go and get her.’
After a few moments, Jack was relieved to hear Molly’s voice down the line. ‘What do you want, Jack?’
‘I want you, sweetheart. I need you to come home. I’ll try to get away early from work. I can come and collect you, if you want?’
When she gave no answer, he was hopeful. ‘I’m sorry we had that row. I love you, Molly. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Have you turned down that promotion?’ she asked sharply.
‘No. I’ve accepted it. You knew I’d made up my mind.’
‘So, everything I said, everything I feel about this business – none of it meant anything to you?’
‘Of course it did – it does! I know the score. I want to go and you want me to stay. But we’re intelligent, mature people. Surely we can find a middle way. We need to sit down and thrash it out, or we’ll never find a solution. Please, Moll. Come home. Let’s try again.’
‘I’m not coming home, Jack. We’re finished, you and me.’
‘Don’t say that! You can’t mean to throw away everything we’ve built up, just because I accepted the promotion?’
Suddenly Molly launched into a screaming attack: ‘It’s never just been about the promotion anyway – it’s the fact that you don’t care what I think! Look, Jack – I mean what I say. Some time tomorrow, when you’re at work, I’ll come and get the rest of my belongings, and that’s an end to it. I don’t want you calling me, and I never want to see you again. You’d better believe it, Jack. No more contact; no more talking. I don’t want you any more. It’s over. Have you got that?’
Before he could answer, she slammed down the phone, and he was left with her harsh words ringing in his ears.
Molly ran back up the stairs and into the bedroom. Concerned for her, Mal followed and he was surprised when Molly instantly wrapped her arms round his neck and drew him down onto the bed. ‘Make love to me,’ she urged, tantalisingly straddling him, ‘I don’t need him when I’ve got you.’
Mal held her off for a moment. ‘Do you mean that, or are you just saying it because you’re angry with Jack?’
She laughed out loud – a harsh, spiteful sound. ‘I’m angry, yes. But not because of Jack.’ Her tone softened. ‘I’m only angry that I ever left you in the first place.’
That was all the encouragement he needed. ‘You’re really never seeing him again?’
‘Never!’
‘If you really want him, Molly, you know I would step aside.’
‘You’d better not!’ She pressed her body into his. ‘I’m yours now, Mal. And don’t you ever forget that.’
Mal heard only what he wanted to hear. He adored her, and she knew that. But even then, for the sake of Molly’s happiness, he really would have let her go, although it would have crippled him to do so. He prayed she was not lying to him, like last time, when she broke his heart. He had to trust her now, because life without her was too empty.
But Molly had no conscience. No shame. Jack was still her priority. Yes, he needed bringing under control, but she already had that in hand. Emotional blackmail was a powerful thing.
In her arrogance, she truly believed that now Jack had been given a glimpse of what life would be like without her, he would give in and abandon his plans. Like all men, he would lick his wounds, then he’d be all over her, begging her to come back. Meantime, she would enjoy Mal and his puppy dog devotion, in every way possible. Live for the minute, that was her motto.
When she now suddenly responded to Mal’s touch with a crazed, sensual energy, he foolishly believed it was his own prowess that had aroused her in such an exciting way.
But then, that was exactly what she wanted him to think.
HAVING WORKED a week of four-hour shifts to cover for another woman who was taking a short holiday, Libby was thankful when Friday afternoon came.
‘Glad it’s the weekend are you?’ asked Madge Lovatt, the supervisor. A smart, single woman in her late fifties, she had ten years of dedicated service under her belt. Well respected by all the staff, her fair-minded manner brought out the best in people.
‘Yes, I’m off now,’ Libby replied as she walked between the aisles towards her.
‘I see you’ve got your mother’s ginger biscuits, then?’ Madge gestured to the package in Libby’s hand. ‘I must admit, I’m rather partial to a ginger-nut myself.’
‘I’d be shot at dawn if I went home without them,’ Libby joked. ‘The minute I open that gate she’ll be looking for these biscuits. She’ll have them out of my hands before I know what’s hit me.’
‘Does Thomas still look after her?’ Like most of the staff at the supermarket, Madge knew of Libby’s burden, and she was filled with admiration. The young woman’s dedication to her ailing mother was commendable.
‘He does, yes.’ When Libby entered the staff cloakroom, Madge went with her. ‘D’you know what, Madge – I really don’t know what I’d do without Thomas. He’s such a good man – the best friend ever. I can leave Mum in his care and be content that no harm will come to her.’
Madge was impressed. ‘That’s wonderful.’ After several disasters involving the opposite sex, she had long ago lost her trust in men. But from what she’d heard about Libby’s neighbour, he was obviously an exception to the rule. ‘How old did you say he was?’
Libby gave her question a moment’s thought. ‘I’m not altogether certain. He’s never really let on, but I reckon he’s in his late sixties.’
‘Ah, that’s a shame. I’m looking for a good man – and for a minute there I thought I’d found him, but late sixties . . . hmm.’ She gave Libby a comical glance. ‘A bit wrinkled round the gills, is he?’
Libby laughed. ‘No, actually, he’s not! In fact, he’s not a bad-looking man at all. He’s tall and well built, with a smile that would melt snow. Added to which, he has a heart of gold, and a mountain of patience.’
‘So, a man like that – he must have a wife tucked away somewhere.’
‘No – not as far as I know, anyway.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Sad story, really. His wife packed her bags one day and cleared off, without so much as a by your leave.’
‘Got family, has he – children and the like?’
‘No. He’s all on his own.’
‘No baggage then, by the sounds of it.’ Madge glanced about to make sure no one was listening, as she asked with a twinkle in her eye, ‘You say he’s well built?’
‘That’s right.’ Intrigued by the other woman’s curiosity, Libby went on, ‘He likes walking, and he has an allotment. I expect that keeps him fit.’
‘Mmm . . . a good-looking, active man who grows his own veg – it gets better and better!’ Leaning towards Libby, she asked confidentially, ‘D’you reckon he’s fit’ – she blushed – ‘down under, if you