Page 61 of The New House

‘Fucking hell!’ Millie cries, storming downstairs into my office.

I love my wife in all her moods. But there’s something about her volcanic fury that brings out the best in her: she’s like an avenging Valkyrie. I find myself responding to the erotic charge she brings into the small space, and my jeans are suddenly uncomfortably tight around the crotch.

‘Has something happened?’ I ask dryly.

‘You’ve seen the news,’ Millie snaps, pointing at my computer screen. ‘Still think Felix is the victim here?’

I don’t waste my breath trying to defend him. ‘I saw it,’ I say.

She leans over my shoulder as I scroll down the page, reading the story with me. Felix’s former company, Copper Beech Financial, has officially declared bankruptcy. Thousands of low-level employees are now out of work, and they’ll have neither redundancy nor pensions to fall back on: it turns out the directors have been plundering the company’s pension scheme for years.

What a fucking mess. From thesound of it, Copper Beech has been taking money from new investors and using it to deliver high returns to just enough people to keep the cash rolling in: a Ponzi scheme, in other words. It doesn’t matter how many safeguards financial regulators introduce: as soon as you close one loophole, the wolves of Wall Street – or the City – find another. People who invested through managed funds will be protected, but thousands of ordinary savers who invested directly with Copper Beech have probably lost everything.

Millie scoots the cat from the armchair on the other side of my desk and drops into it. ‘Stacey’s going to be in the centre of this storm,’ she says. ‘She’ll be lucky to hang onto her job.’

‘There’s no proof yet Felix himself has done anything wrong,’ I say.

‘Come on,’ Millie says scornfully. ‘Evenyoucan’t give him the benefit of the doubt now. He’s a director. He’s just as liable as the rest of his board. And he’s married to the country’s most popular TV presenter. She’s aface. This is going to be huge.’

She’s right, of course. Whatever his level of involvement, Felix is going to be the biggest scalp for the media simply by virtue of the woman to whom he’s married. And there’s no doubt this is going to hurt Stacey badly. Her whole girl-next-door brand is built around her caring about the little guy. The people who’ve been ruined by Copper Beech areherviewers. They tune in to see her fight for them against corporate sharks like Copper Beech. How’s it going to look when it turns out she’smarriedto one of them?

‘Have you talked to Stacey?’ I ask.

‘Her phone keeps going to voicemail,’ Millie says. ‘It must be blowing up with calls from the media. She’s obviously switched it off.’

‘When did you last speak to her, then?’

‘What is this, twentyquestions?’ Millie says irritably.

I wish I knew what was eating her. She hasn’t been herself all week. When I got home from the museum last Sunday with Peter, she’d taken a hot shower and gone to bed at five in the afternoon, claiming a headache. She’s been unusually quiet since then: distracted and out of sorts. Until today, she hadn’t referred to Felix or Stacey or the Glass House once.

I know my wife.

She hasn’t just forgotten about them, or moved on. Something’s brewing.

‘Millie,’ I say, ‘what’s going on?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Have you and Stacey fallen out?’

‘Why would you say that?’

‘Because five days ago she turned up at our house with a black eye and you were all for reporting Felix to the police, and since then you haven’t even mentioned her,’ I say, exasperated. ‘Has something happened between you two I should know about?’

‘Stacey said she was going to stay in Exeter with a friend for a few days,’ Millie says evasively. ‘I haven’t talked to her since then.’

‘I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s had a lot going on,’ I say.

‘I know,’ Millie says.

‘I know you don’t want to hear this, but have you considered the possibility she’s gone back to Felix? She might not want to tell you in case you think she’s let you down.’

‘She can’t have—’

She stops suddenly, looking like she could bite off her tongue.

‘What d’you mean?’

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