CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Marco flicked through some CV’s that had arrived that morning in preparation for his newly restructured airline, but he really didn’t have the enthusiasm to sort through them. It was a job for Sapphire, he mused, as he had no solid idea of what qualities were needed for such a position. Again he cursed, knowing that he would need Finbar’s help.
‘Finbar, look through these, will you, and weed out the unsuitable ones.’
Finbar’s head shot up from behind the computer screen. ‘A please would be nice?’ His head disappeared behind the screen again.
Marco felt his temperature rise; the bloody man was so infuriating. ‘Please. And will you take over Sapphire’s role until she returns?’
‘Certainly. Lovely, a pay rise.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I’ll sort it out,’ Marco growled, and threw the pile of CVs onto the desk that Finbar had already acquired in Sapphire’s absence.
‘I don’t think she’s planning on coming back, by the way,’ Finbar said idly, as he flicked through the pile of CVs.
He tossed one in the bin after scanning it quickly. ‘Too old.’
Another one went in the bin with, ‘Too pretty – she’ll be trouble.’ He shuddered as he held one out for Marco to look at. ‘Oh, that one’s been hit with the ugly stick, for sure.’ It followed the other unfortunates into the trash.
Marco glanced at the bin in which several applicants’ CVs had just ended up. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a politically correct way of sifting through job applications, but he hadn’t the heart or the inclination to comment.
He tried to focus on his work but it was no good; he really couldn’t concentrate on the job in hand. He considered throttling Finbar as a way of reducing his stress levels, enjoying the idea of pinning him up against the wall. As far as fantasies went it was up there with the best of them, but murder might not sit too well with his future plans, he thought ruefully. Instead he settled for throwing evil glances at him whenever he could.
He wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. He hardly ever perspired, but it seemed that Sapphire’s disappearance had really shaken him. He’d intended never to be vulnerable again and yet love had crept up on him once more, leaving a hole in his heart where Sapphire’s love should be. He stood up impatiently. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Good luck.’ Finbar’s face was angelic as he waggled his fingers goodbye.
Marco scowled and slammed out of the door. He sat in his car, motionless, contemplating his next move, shocked at how fiercely Sapphire’s disappearance had hit him. He was also surprised at how few options he had to track her down apart from driving to her flat – which he was pretty certain would be a futile task. Nevertheless, he found himself pulling up outside her door and knocking in vain; if it was rented out, there was no one answering in any case.
He drove back to work. ‘Charlotte, do you know where Sapphire’s parents live?’
‘Africa?’ Charlotte suggested before resuming her typing.
‘This is stupid. How could we employ a woman and know so little about her background?’ He knew she’d had a horse that she loved, had once fought off a hyena and hated school. Not enough, exactly, to bring her home to him. It was time to call in a private detective, although he knew Sapphire would be livid if she found out he had intruded on her personal space.
He ran his finger over her tiny passport-sized photo that was attached to her CV, looking up guiltily when Betty appeared at his elbow. For someone so small Betty had a powerful presence; even he was beginning to quake in fear at the thought that he might step out of line.
But for once his mug of coffee wasn’t slammed onto the table with the force of a speeding train.
‘So, you’re looking for Sapphire?’
Stating the bloody obvious, he thought, but he’d never dare utter the words. He looked up at her bleakly. ‘I think I’ve run out of options.’
Betty bit her lip and fluffed up her curly permed hair.
Marco narrowed his eyes. ‘You know something?’ His heart skipped a beat.
‘Have I ever shown you the photos of my grandkids?’
He deflated. ‘No,’ he replied, carefully. There was a nuance here that he hadn’t quite grasped and he looked over to Charlotte for help.
Charlotte widened her eyes and thrust out her chin, indicating that he should play the game, as Betty cleared a space on his desk.
‘No, Betty, but I would love to see them –’ He looked at his watch, the words another time on his lips, but Charlotte’s loud cough had him clamping his mouth shut as Betty dug into her pinny pocket and produced a thick wad of photos.
‘Lovely.’ Marco bit back a sigh, saying a silent goodbye to a productive half hour of work. He thought he heard a suppressed snort of laughter from Charlotte but didn’t dare glance at her. If Betty knew something – anything – that could help him find Sapphire then he would suffer even the photos of her dead pets. He didn’t dare to zone out for one second, fearing that she might quiz him later and refuse to offer up her information, if he had a memory lapse. ‘So, Lulu the Springer died three years ago,’ he repeated, putting as much sincerity into his voice as possible. He could definitely hear Charlotte chuckling behind Betty, pretending she was coughing, but he maintained a straight face, his hopes soaring as the pile of photos diminished.
‘That’s all of them,’ Bettie said eventually, gathering the photos up.
Marco gave her a forlorn smile. ‘Bertie, Jasmine, Toby and Harrison, am I right?’ The names would be etched on his brain forever.
‘Aren’t they angels?’ Betty had a satisfied look on her face as she slipped the photos back into her pocket. Marco had a horrible feeling that she’d forgotten about Sapphire and their tacit agreement; or maybe he’d just been duped.
Betty’s shoulder was inches away from him and he was about to give in to the urge to put his arm around her and beg her to tell him what she knew about Sapphire, when she walked over to Sapphire’s old desk.
‘I’ll assume you had your reasons for behaving the way you did, but I can see you want the best for Sapphire.’ Betty pointed to a small drawer underneath Sapphire’s desk that Marco hadn’t noticed before. ‘She keeps stuff in there; it’s a hidden compartment. It might be of some help.’
‘Thank you.’ Marco moistened his lips and stared at the desk. Checking out someone’s personal stuff didn’t sit well with him. He peered at the drawer and glanced up at Charlotte for approval.
‘Go on – you want to find her, don’t you?’ Charlotte tilted her head to one side, an amused smile on her lips.
‘Yes. Very much.’ He stood up and flexed his fingers as if he was about to unpick a lock and pulled open the drawer. Inside lay a slim folder. It didn’t weigh much and he feared that it was empty, but he pulled it out and studied it. After a moment, he opened the folder and stared in quiet amazement as a picture of a vast yellow desert interspersed with scrubby purple trees and menacing orange and black tigers jumped out at him.
It seemed that the landscape was a cover for the rest of the images and Marco flicked through the other dozen or so, sitting down as the subject matter floored him. Each picture showed an uncanny likeness of him, mostly in various degrees of brooding anger. His first thought was that he had no idea he was so moody and his next thought was that Sapphire was a brilliant artist if she’d drawn these – and he couldn’t imagine she hadn’t. He’d had no idea. His memory flitted back to the paintings in her flat. She’d painted them all. Of course she had.
Was he so focused on himself and his business that he had not even noticed that the woman he loved had such a talent? He held out an image of himself lying on a sofa, fast asleep, wearing only a T-shirt and his underwear. His hair was tousled and his legs bare, and the depiction exuded the passion and love that had gone into each stroke. He remembered that he’d fallen asleep on the sofa in Edinburgh. He was stunned; she must have cared for him, even back then.
He looked for a signature but all he could make out was ‘Will M.’ He tried to think what it could mean. Surely they could only be the work of Sapphire – it would be impossible that anyone else had seen him in such intimate moments?
‘These are Sapphire’s?’ he asked Betty. She leaned over his shoulder and picked up the one of Marco asleep on the sofa, raising it up to the light.
‘These are good,’ Betty said. ‘Bloody good. What’s she doing wasting time in a job like this, with such a talent? Sorry – no offence, Marco,’ she added.
‘Wilhelmina,’ Marco said softly, a small smile spreading out across his face. He jumped up, pushing the images back in their folder. He kissed Betty on the cheek. ‘I’ve got it. I know where she’ll be.’
‘Good, that’s good,’ Betty beamed as he strode towards the door.
‘Make sure you look after her once you find her,’ she called to his retreating back.
He stopped, swivelled on his heel, and directed his words to Charlotte. ‘Book me a hotel in central London – two nights, please. I don’t care which one, just text me when you’ve done it.’
Charlotte jumped to it. ‘Sure will, don’t you worry.’ She picked up pen and paper and swung the computer monitor around to face her.
Marco breathed out a sigh of relief as he grabbed a taxi to take him to the centre of London, where he would begin his search.