Tomorrow's Path Read online

  Her first morning at work was crazy. Paul had only moved into the office a couple of days ago, and hadn’t even got himself a secretary yet. Nothing had been sorted out and she found herself acting as a supplies officer and human resources manager till someone called Janice came on board.

  If she hadn’t stood up for herself, Paul would have dumped the contents of his desk on her as well.

  ‘That’s not in my remit – and I don’t know enough yet about the local scene to attend to it anyway.’ She plonked the pile of papers back on his desk.

  He grinned. ‘Worth a try. You might actually like paperwork.’

  ‘And pigs might fly. You need to get yourself a secretary. Now, I shall be out this afternoon. I have no food in the flat and I need to sort out some permanent accommodation. It was unreasonable to ask me to come to work today.’

  One of the other guys came across to join them. ‘My cousin Amy does house rentals. Do you want me to phone her?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He came back a few minutes later. ‘She says she has three furnished places vacant and can show you round them this afternoon, if you like.’

  ‘That’d be great.’

  He jangled a bunch of keys. ‘For your temporary car. Let me show you the staff parking.’

  ‘I hope the car’s got a satnav in it. I don’t know Perth.’

  ‘I thought you were born here?’

  ‘I was seven when I left and I haven’t been back since.’

  ‘Ah. Well, luckily, the car does have a satnav.’

  She felt nervous when she took it out that afternoon, but she had to get used to driving in Perth. With the satnav’s help and some very cautious driving, she made it to the estate agent’s to see what was for rent.

  To her relief Amy drove her round after that. The second place they looked at was a furnished villa unit at the end of a row, with carports between each dwelling. She wouldn’t have any noise from shared walls, thank goodness, and she could use one of the two large bedrooms as an office. She took it and arranged to move in the next morning. Just let Paul complain!

  Her immediate neighbours introduced themselves as she was moving her pitifully few bits and pieces in. They were an old couple, who said they liked a quiet life. ‘So do I,’ she assured them.

  They gave her directions to the nearest shopping centre and she rang work to say she wouldn’t be in that day. She stocked up on all sorts of items, including bedding. Her car was full of parcels by the time she got back and her bank account was considerably lighter.

  Now she felt ready to settle into her job.

  Unfortunately, as the days passed, she found it hard going. She’d never worked anywhere as badly organised. Paul didn’t know how to delegate or even how to assign jobs, let alone share necessary information.

  He was definitely struggling in his new role. Who on earth had appointed him? She could have done better than him standing on her head. Only she didn’t want to be in charge of anything. Like her new neighbours, she wanted a peaceful life.

  Over 2,000 miles away on the eastern side of Australia, the loneliness was starting to get to Jivan. He didn’t want to be with people all the time, but he didn’t want to be a recluse, either.

  Though he met local people when he shopped in the small town, he had been so wary of revealing his identity when he first got here that it was now they who kept their distance.

  He had tried to change his looks as much as possible, even adopting the unshaven look that was fashionable, but which he didn’t like the feel of. He sometimes shook his head at himself in the mirror, because he looked downright scruffy.

  He wasn’t using his real name and had set up a credit card under the name John Simpkins, by special agreement with his bank.

  He had to hire a part-time secretary and found one locally. She wasn’t a reader, so didn’t care about his books, didn’t even seem aware of how well known he was. Since she was also a volunteer with the local ambulance service, with special training to act as a paramedic, she led a very busy life.

  There was still no sign of Louisa and he prayed she was moving on to something else.

  During the long, quiet evenings, he mulled over his situation and felt annoyed – no, make that downright furious with himself for letting her do this to him. He should have fought back instead of running away.

  As a result, he asked Anna if she could find him a private investigator in the UK to keep an eye on his ex, someone with above average skills, if possible, and never mind the cost.

  ‘About time,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t done this, I’d have suggested it. We want you to do more PR than you have been doing. Your film will be coming out soon and you have to be at the premiere of that, preferably with a partner.’

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ he teased.

  Anna emailed a couple of days later and asked him to phone when he had a moment.

  He knew her work habits well enough to catch her in the quiet hour she tried to start her day with, which was teatime in Australia.

  ‘Ah, Jivan. Good.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Bad news, I’m afraid. There have been more articles blackening your name. Do you want copies?’

  ‘No. They sicken me. But when I get someone lined up to keep an eye on her, perhaps you’d pass them on to the private investigator.’

  ‘Of course. I’ve heard of a rather special company which deals in protection for celebrities. I’m checking them out now. And Jivan … if there’s anything I can do to help, on a personal or professional level, don’t hesitate to ask.’

  ‘Thank you, Anna. I know that.’

  He sat for a long time staring at the computer, his thoughts bouncing round his skull like angry wasps. Any normal person would have let the matter of a marriage break-up drop by now. He felt pretty sure Louisa had gone beyond stalking into what was to him unknown territory – some form of mental illness, perhaps.

  On that thought, he got online to research stalking. Why hadn’t he done that sooner? What he found confirmed his suspicions that she was acting abnormally and made him feel more worried than he had before about his personal safety.

  According to one site’s classifications, Louisa fitted into the category of either a ‘resentful’ stalker or a ‘rejected’ stalker.

  He definitely needed professional help to deal with this.

  The following day Anna got back to him with the name of a company that dealt with big-time stalkers for the stars and he contacted them at once, asking if he could speak to someone about a problem he was experiencing.

  They replied by suggesting he Skype, so that they could see one another and speak at length if necessary.

  So that they could see whether he looked to be a lunatic, he guessed, feeling resentful himself about that. Could you see such a thing in a person?

  He shrugged and emailed straight back to agree.

  They replied to ask how urgent the matter was, and when he said not immediately urgent, they suggested a time the following week, when an operative who specialised in cases like his would be free to take on another client. In the meantime he should be very careful about his personal safety.

  Well, at least he had done one thing right in getting away from his ex; he had protected himself.

  He felt better about himself when he switched his computer off.

  Six

  Jessica’s job wasn’t as demanding as she’d thought it would be, which was good in one sense. But when the work failed to build up as rapidly as her former boss had told her was expected, she began to wonder if the company would change its corporate mind about the viability of a West Australian branch.

  She hoped they’d give it a little longer. She was enjoying being here in the west and didn’t want another major upheaval in her life.

  During the Christmas break, she decided to visit a few places she’d known as a child. The first one was Mandurah, which she checked up online first. To her astonishment the town had more than doubled in size and it now had several man-made can
al developments lined by huge waterside homes. She went for a boat ride round the canals, thinking how wonderful it would be to live on the water. Afterwards she strolled along the foreshore, enjoying the hot summer weather, even though other people complained about it being too hot.

  Apart from opening her present from her parents and going out for a meal with her work colleagues, she didn’t pay much attention to the seasonal jollities.

  She had made friends with Janice, who was in charge of human resources, and they went out together for a celebratory meal just before the holiday, but Janice had a brother living in a country town and would be spending Christmas with him and his family.

  Her mother had written long letters, worrying about Jessica being lonely or, in the last letter, being in danger in a land with so many poisonous spiders. Apparently her parents had watched a programme about Australian spiders on television. Why they were getting so het up when they hadn’t seen many during their time here, she couldn’t work out. Like other children, she’d quickly learned not to poke her fingers into holes where spiders might be lurking. And she wasn’t going to start doing it now.

  When her brother found out that he and Kerry were expecting a boy, her mother’s letters alternated between worrying about Jessica and telling her about the family discussions re names for the baby. In the end they chose John Richard, but the child was already known as ‘our Johnny’.

  Keeping in touch would have been easier if her mother had used a computer, but Maureen didn’t like them, even though she used one in the shop. She said they were a cop out and people ought to take the trouble to personalise things when keeping in touch with one another. She therefore wrote her letters by hand and sent hard copies of photos, a lot of photos, as if she was determined to keep her distant daughter fully involved in family affairs.

  Jessica had wondered about going home for the christening when the time came, and certainly her mother was urging her to book her flight and even offering to pay the fare.

  Before she could make a plane reservation, however, and well before the baby was due, she began to suspect that something was going on behind the scenes at work.

  In February it was leaked that the company had been taken over by one of the big multi-nationals. The staff worried to one another that the new owners might close down the West Australian branch, since they already had a branch in Perth.

  They were right. The closure happened almost immediately and with no warning. One evening things seemed perfectly normal as they closed up the office and went home. The next morning, when the staff got to work, they found the premises occupied by a close-down team and security officers.

  They were escorted to the conference room where a hard-faced woman addressed them, making no attempt to soften the blow. ‘I’m in charge of the closure of this branch. You will have one hour to clear your personal possessions from your work stations. You are not to use your computers during that time.’

  She waited till the muttering had subsided, then went on, ‘Boxes have been provided for any personal papers and effects. You’ll leave them here and they’ll be checked carefully to make sure there’s nothing going out that shouldn’t, after which they’ll be delivered to any address in Perth you specify. Your salaries and accrued leave will be paid out within the week. References have been provided and will be sent to your home addresses by your former employer.’

  ‘Can you just tell us—’ someone began.

  ‘No other questions will be answered, but you may have a copy of the prepared media statement if you wish.’

  And that was that.

  Jessica left her former colleagues in a café arguing furiously about their rights to clear their personal stuff off their computers and went home. It felt strange to have nothing to do on a weekday. She made herself a cup of tea and sat outside in her small courtyard, trying to decide what to do next. She had the money for her fare and a little left over, if she wanted to go back to England, but once she got there she’d have to find a new job quickly and her former employer no longer existed.

  It had cost a lot to set herself up in Perth, because she’d needed a car as well as a new desktop computer, printer and things for her little home. She hadn’t touched the money from her writing prize, which was in a long-term savings account at the bank, but maybe she should use it now to buy some writing time.

  In the end, she could come to no decision and decided to take a week or two to think about the future while she studied the job market here in Perth. She could get on with some writing, too. That would be no hardship.

  The following weekend, a friendly new neighbour from the villa three doors away popped in to see her. When Jessica explained what had happened, Deb insisted on taking her to a party to cheer her up.

  ‘Come on! You can’t stay indoors moping. You’re bound to find another job soon in the IT industry.’

  ‘I don’t think I—’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something smart. They’re nice people, but yuppies. They want me to do them a mural.’ Deb had already talked about her work and the high prices her paintings were starting to command.

  Oh, why not? Jessica thought. It was lonely being at home all day on your own.

  The party was in a private house in City Beach. Around it were parked late-model cars. Inside, the decor was elegant, the music soft and the people well-dressed. A security guard was on duty at the front door, caterers occupied the kitchen and a bar had been set up in the games room overlooking a huge swimming pool.

  Most of the people seemed to be in couples and within a few minutes, Jessica was wishing she hadn’t come. Deb had gone into a huddle in a corner with a tall man whose expression said he was much taken by her. She seemed equally taken by him and he was making her laugh.

  ‘All alone?’

  Jessica turned round. ‘Yes.’

  A man was smiling at her. His eyes flickered briefly to her left hand. ‘I’m Mike Larreter.’

  ‘Jessica Lord.’ She studied him in turn, quite liking what she saw. Tall, older than her, skin rather weathered, as if he’d spent a lot of time outdoors. He wasn’t fat, but he was certainly well-built, looking as if he worked out regularly.

  ‘You must be English.’ He stretched out one fingertip to stroke her cheek. ‘The beautiful skin gives you away. You can’t have been here long.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not long, no. And you?’

  ‘Aussie born and bred, and proud of it.’

  ‘Actually, I was born here, too, but my parents returned to England. I never forgot Australia, though, and when I got a chance to work here, I snapped it up.’ And might regret that now. Her mother was right about one thing. She felt very vulnerable without any family nearby to help her in this time of crisis.

  As they chatted, she found that he was recently divorced and braced herself for the usual bad-mouthing of his ex-wife. But he barely mentioned her. In fact, he talked mostly about his job. He was a human resources manager in the public sector, and he was having enormous difficulty in getting people who understood computer systems to set up a new database they needed.

  Jessica spoke without thinking. ‘I could do that standing on my head.’

  He broke off in mid-sentence and stared at her. ‘You could?’

  ‘Of course I could. That’s what my job is – was – adapting software programs to companies’ needs and setting up specialised computer systems.’

  ‘You look too young and pretty to be doing that sort of thing.’

  She sighed and raised her eyebrows.

  He threw up his hands. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to be sexist, but I’m older than you, so I’m allowed to slip up occasionally. Tell you what, let’s not talk business tonight.’ He grimaced at the noise around them. ‘Why don’t I take you out to lunch tomorrow and we’ll discuss things then? If you really are looking for a job—’

  ‘I am. My company just got taken over and our branch was closed down.’

  ‘Then we may be able to help one another.
’

  She had no hesitation in accepting his offer.

  He stayed beside her for a while and then introduced her to some other people before he left to go on to another party.

  She was sorry to see him leave. Mike was good company, a bit sharp in his views of the world, but interesting to chat to.

  Since Deb seemed to have hooked up with the tall guy, Jessica excused herself just before midnight and called a taxi.

  One week later, she had a three-month temporary contract and a demanding new job. Her mother was upset that she was unable to make it to the christening, but you couldn’t ask for leave when you’d just started work on a project.

  Mike’s deputy, Barbara Ross, helped her to settle into the new job, which was fiddly but not difficult.

  Within the week, Mike went off on a secondment to another government department, leaving Barbara in charge. Immediately people seemed to relax and smile more.

  They didn’t see him again for six months. By then, a full-time computing job had been created and advertised, and Jessica had applied for it, gone through a gruelling interview and been appointed. She was now a permanent public servant, or as her colleagues joked, she had donned the golden handcuffs of job security – well, as near to security as you could get these days.

  After the shock of her sudden unemployment, Jessica rather liked the thought of a permanent job.

  She also liked the way most people came to the office, got on with their work and then went home at weekends to enjoy themselves. There was little or no overtime, which suited her just fine.

  In fact, Australians seemed to enjoy their leisure time far more than the people she had worked with in England. In her opinion, that gave a better balance in their daily lives.

  She slid gradually into a regular routine. Do your job in working hours, then do your own thing at weekends and some evenings, which for her meant writing. And the more she wrote, the more she wanted to write.

  Her novel had been published and was selling well and the sequel was nearly finished. Because of all the changes in her life, she hadn’t been able to write it as quickly as she’d hoped, but she was pleased with the basic story.