Page 35 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

ChapterEleven

Sensing eyes on him,George glanced from his computer screen and found Owen had followed him to the office door and no further. There he was, standing in the doorway, looking like he’d just fallen out of bed.

‘What frigging time do you call this?’ George said.

‘Sorry. I overslept.’

‘Hmph,’ George grunted, thinking Owen didn’t sound sorry. He didn’t even look sorry, leaning casually against the doorframe.

‘That’s what you call it now, is it?’ He closed his emails down, choosing to ignore the one from the Blanchard brothers. It was bound to be bad news, and his priority now was to sort out Owen. Bloody Owen. ‘Come in … don’t just stand there. Shut the door behind you and sit down.’

Owen did as he was told.

Wasting no time, George jumped right in on the attack. ‘You’re on the payroll now, Owen, and I expect you to get your sorry arse into the office on time. That means I expect you to put the hours in. Not unreasonable, given the money I’m paying you. Understand?’

‘Yes.’ Owen nodded, looking suitably chastised.

‘The office is open at seven in the morning. Arrival anytime between then and nine would be acceptable, and I don’t expect you to finish work much before six. The building is open until nine pm. The cleaners lock up when they’ve finished, usually around nine to nine-fifteen. Stay late any time.’

‘Point taken.’

George turned sideways in his chair and examined Owen. He didn’t look like he’d been on the lash, and the air was noticeably free of the smell of whisky. His clothes were obviously fresh on, and there was a distinct aroma of soap and toothpaste. Much better than Friday, and he even looked contrite now. But George stayed silent. He expected more.

Owen shifted uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t mean to be late today, you know?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, George, but I didn’t plan to oversleep. I was just exhausted. It was a big weekend for me.’

Drumming his fingers on the desk, George remained silent. Come on, he thought. Give me a reason to trust you … restore my faith.

‘Emotional, I mean,’ Owen continued edgily. ‘Meeting up with you and your family on Saturday, which was great, by the way.’ Owen tried a smile, and when George didn’t react, he added, looking like a dog that had just been kicked, ‘Sally and Millie seemed well.’

George remained unmoved.

Owen frowned. ‘On Sunday,’ he went on, ‘I saw my daughter for the first time in over three months. Can you understand what I’ve been going through? How important it was for me to see her again? The impact! The whole thing left me?’

Running out of patience, George interrupted, ‘Unable to cope. So you got bloody wasted again.’ Disappointment churned inside him like the worst heartburn. He couldn’t believe he’d been wrong to trust Owen. His own common sense should have told him. An alcoholic cannot control himself – not even Owen.

‘No!’ Owen sat upright, surprising George with his vehemence.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘I mean,’ Owen replied with heavy stress. ‘I did not get drunk over the weekend. Apart from the glass of wine at your lunch, I haven’t touched alcohol since Friday.’

‘Then why did you oversleep?’

‘I just told you. Exhaustion. I was emotionally drained after seeing my daughter again. It was only on Friday that Margaret had threatened to keep Emi away from me permanently.’

George frowned. He hadn’t realised.

‘I’d tested the situation on Saturday before I came to your place, tried to set up a meeting for Sunday morning, but Margaret still refused. So when I did actually get to see Emi on Sunday, it was overwhelming. I’d been on an emotional rollercoaster. Surely you can understand that?’

‘Yeah, yes. I suppose. What changed Margaret’s mind?’

‘Your mum. After our Saturday lunch, when we were in the park, Sally and I talked about children and ….’ Owen paused. He stared at the floor as if lost for words.

‘And?’ George prompted. He was keen to know what all the arm-waving and hand grabbing he’d witnessed in the park was about.

‘And Sally asked about Emi. I told her Margaret was refusing access. Then she did the most remarkable thing. She took Margaret’s number from my phone and called her.’

‘Why?’

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