Jennifer sounded just like her mother, with that booming, no-nonsense voice. Thankfully, Mrs Wheeler had called ahead and briefed her, so Jennifer cut right to the chase. She was all for supporting local businesses, she said, and would much rather help a new firm get off the ground than spend her money with an established agency who blew half of it on overheads and outsourced all the work anyway.
So this was it – she was giving me a chance. She would email me a brief, with details of the rooms that were to be renovated, and I would be invited to pitch to her and the hotel manager. All I had to do was to prepare mood boards, propose new design concepts, and provide cost estimates. It sounded like a lot of work, but I hastily agreed, grateful to have this opportunity.
I poured another glass of wine and started flicking through Pinterest, jotting down notes as inspiration came to me. I lit a scented candle and dreamily thought back to some of the hotels I’d stayed in, wracking my brains for what had made them feel special. Once I started thinking about it, the ideas came quickly. A project of this size would take a lot of planning – I would have to assemble a team sooner rather than later.
I opened the cupboard next to the fireplace in search of another notepad. On the top of the pile was the yellow plastic folder of Mike’s credit card statements that we’d found amongst Amy’s things. I’d tossed it in here on Sunday when I got home and completely forgotten about it after Rachel’s phone call.
Perhaps I’d missed something the first time around. I slid the papers out and took a closer look. There was nothing on the first two pages but on the third page, one of the transactions was underlined in black pen. I flicked through the rest – there were a dozen lines, all highlighting transactions from ‘The Highwayman Inn, Alnwick’. The print blurred as the pages began to tremble in my hands.
Chapter Nineteen
Was I reading this right? I checked the details again: Mike’s credit card statements, or at least certain pages from them, with hotel transactions highlighted. All hidden away in a sealed file. I tried to think of a simple explanation, but nothing came to mind.
I noted several of the dates on my phone, pulled my shoes on and ran out of the door. It was raining lightly, but I didn’t go back for my umbrella.
At Amy’s, I let myself in. Mike called out from the kitchen.
‘Izzy! We weren’t expecting to see you. I hope you’ll stay for dinner.’ He wiped a hand on his apron, nodding towards the stove. ‘There’s certainly enough for one more.’
Lucas was cooking Amy’s signature sausage casserole, which contained surprisingly few sausages and a whole lot of other ingredients, which he started to reel off to me with great enthusiasm.
‘Sounds wonderful – can’t wait to try it,’ I interrupted him. ‘Let me just go and see what the girls are up to.’
I made my way upstairs to Betsy’s bedroom.
‘Knock knock!’ I called out, before sticking my head around the door.
Hannah was styling Betsy’s hair in French plaits.
‘Auntie Izzy – look at my hair!’ Betsy cried in delight. ‘This is how Mummy used to do it.’
Hannah grimaced, then looked up at me with a brave smile and a shrug of her shoulders.
‘Looks awesome, guys. Mummy would be very proud of you both. Now, I’ve just got to check next week’s activities on the calendar. See you downstairs in a second.’
I paused on the landing, listening to check that Mike was occupied with Lucas in the kitchen, before quietly slipping in to the office. I logged on to the computer, opening the calendar and pulling up the list of dates from the credit card statements on my phone. I scrolled back through several months until I arrived at the first date on my list.
The entries for that day showed that Betsy had football and Lucas had computer club. Mike was marked in grey – I clicked on his name. It said ‘London – overnight’. My hands were shaking. I took a deep, slow breath.
I scrolled further back, looking for the next date from the statements. Mike was listed as being overnight in Dublin. I double-checked the date on my phone, just to make sure. I continued, checking through half a dozen dates, and each one listed Mike as having an overnight trip. None of them mentioned anything about Alnwick.
My breath was shallow. I was starting to pant as the panic was rising in my throat. A dark cloud was beginning to gather around the edges of my vision, and I felt the room slowly start to spin around my chair. I placed a palm on the desk to steady myself.
Had Amy figured out that Mike wasn’t where he said he was? Had she gathered up proof and hidden it away for one of us to find, in case something happened to her?
‘Are you all right?’
I gave an involuntary gasp, my fingers gripping the desk. I hadn’t even heard Mike coming up the stairs. My pulse quickened.
‘Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready…’ He trailed off. ‘What are you doing?’ He stared at me. ‘Are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
All the calendar windows were still open on the screen in front of me, seven little boxes of proof that Mike had lied, and he was standing just on the other side of the monitor. I gave him a weak smile and slowly moved the mouse to start closing them. It made a loud click every time.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked again.
I wished I could look nonchalant and play it cool, but the heat was rising in my cheeks and the back of my neck burned.
‘Just had to check something
