The Secret Within

by Lucy Dawson

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction; Medical Thrillers; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

‘ Addictive, electrifying and heart-pounding… The nail-biting suspense kept me hanging on to every word, gasping in surprise and clinging to the edge of my seat!... WOW!! ’ Book Lover’s Best, 5 stars It was supposed to be my family’s promising new start, but then everything went very, very wrong… When Julia Blythe moves to a small, sleepy town on the south coast with her husband Ewan and their two children, they all agree to put their past behind them. She’s offered her dream job at the local hospital, and the kids get a place at the friendly, red-brick village school – it’s perfect. No more threatening letters, no more twisted lies. And how nice to meet her new colleague Nathan Sloan and his wife Storm, when picking up her children on their first day. Gracious and good-looking, the Sloans have a son in the same year and a close-knit circle of friends who welcome Julia and Ewan as if they’ve always known them. But just as Julia is starting to relax into their new life, the unthinkable happens. A day trip to the coast ends in tragedy when her youngest child is reported missing. Her new friends crowd around to help – searching the desolate clifftops for a sign. But Julia can’t help but wonder if she’s once again placed her trust in someone deadly… In a town this small, how could nobody see what happened? And who can she turn to when anyone around her could be telling lies? In running away to this new beginning, has Julia unknowingly put her family in even more terrible danger? Utterly twisty and completely unputdownable. This insanely gripping page-turner from bestselling author Lucy Dawson is perfect for anyone who tore through Friend Request, Gone Girl and My Lovely Wife . What readers are saying about The Secret Within : ‘Totally addictive, twisty and unputdownable.’ Erin Kelly, bestselling author of He Said, She Said ‘This book was fabulous. I was glued to the story, unable to stop turning page after page… Spectacular story!’ NetGalley reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Wow just wow!... full of edge-of-the-seat drama… the ending will just blow you away.’ NetGalley reviewer, 5 stars ‘ The nail-biting suspense kept me hanging on to every word… impossible to put down!... Filled with jaw-dropping twists… a mind-blowing experience that kept me spellbound and captivated, and the explosive ending left my mind reeling! WOW! Lucy Dawson NAILED IT!’ Book Lover’s Best, 5 stars ‘A tense rollercoaster of a read… An addictive, chilling, twisty thriller of a read that keeps you guessing until the end!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars 'I flew through this and absolutely loved it.' SJI Holliday, bestselling author of The Last Resort ‘ Twists and turns to keep you hooked... Loved it! ' Amanda Jennings, bestselling author of The Storm ‘ Fantastic!! Deliciously dark, twisted and dangerous. Filled with lies, deceit and jaw-droppingly shocking behaviour…This book had me gripped and the epilogue sent shivers down my spine!! Would definitely recommend!!’ Stardust Book Reviews, 5 stars

Release date: January 26, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

‘Shhh! I’m not going to hurt you! I’d never do that.’ I loll back on the comfy hotel mattress and wait. Those big, anxious, baby blues stare back at me, shining in subdued lighting.

‘We can stop this any time you like, OK?’ I smile. ‘This is about you being totally comfortable with everything we’re doing. Is it all right for me to carry on now?’

A hesitation. ‘Yes.’ The reply is little more than a whisper.

I reach for the roll of thick tape. ‘Shall I do your wrists first?’

As they are offered to me, I take a moment to marvel at how slender they are – the network of delicate veins running up the arm… such incredible complexity beneath that pale, almost translucent skin. Beautiful. True to my word, I bind them with care, but tight enough to do the job, cutting the roll free with my pocket knife before smoothing down the severed end. I like a neat finish.

‘I’m not sure I want to do my ankles too?’

I swallow down a sigh. ‘Well – it’s up to you, but…’ I shrug.

A nervous bite of the lip. ‘OK – I’ll do it.’

That’s more like it. I move quickly while we’re still in this decisive mode, before sitting back to admire my handiwork. ‘Try and work yourself free…’ I watch carefully for any loosening but I’ve done an excellent job. ‘There we are! We’re ready…’

‘Wait!’

Oh, fuck me.

‘I don’t think I want to do this after all.’

Yup – here we go… My smile tightens. ‘I’ve just finished binding you.’

‘I shouldn’t be doing this. Can you take me home? I want to go home to my family.’

‘Hey, hey!’ I soothe. ‘This is what you said you wanted, remember?’

‘I thought I did, but I don’t anymore. Can you cut me free, please?’

I hesitate – and watch those eyes widen again: this time, with fear.

‘You’re cross with me.’

‘No, no!’ I say truthfully. ‘I’m not at all. I promise.’ Because this was entirely predictable; having doubts when it comes to the crunch is only natural.

‘I did think I wanted to do this but turns out I’m not brave after all.’

I get up, walk to the door and double-check that it’s locked.

I needed the two men sitting on the other side of the table to trust me.

Our meeting had been billed as an ‘informal’ coffee, but I knew full well they had the final say in my getting the job. While there was a post in the department that had to be filled, if these two didn’t want me joining their team, it wouldn’t matter how well I’d done in the earlier rounds of interviews. They’d put a stop to my coming to the hospital – and that was unthinkable: far too much was riding on this.

As they put their phones on the tabletop and settled themselves, ready to begin, I tried to remain relaxed; smiling as I picked an imaginary piece of lint from my trousers, shifting slightly in my chair out of the direct sunlight shining in my eyes. I focused instead on the cloudy lines on the table, left by the last quick wipe down it had been given. It takes as little as a tenth of a second to form a first impression of someone’s personality, based on their face. One of the most useful things I was ever taught as a rookie plastic surgeon, was to always smile at my patients – because then they will trust me and that will make them feel safe.

It’s actually a false misconception, because there is no link between having a friendly face and being trustworthy, but we’re all built that way regardless, so when I meet people before I operate on them, I look confident. I tell them I’ll take good care of them, even though the very first thing I will do when they are laid out unconscious in front of me is hurt them – albeit for the greater good. Once anaesthetised you’re defenceless; you can’t blink, you can’t breathe for yourself. You are at the mercy of other people, keeping you alive. So, patients are incredibly brave and the very least they deserve when they are frightened is someone to trust – me.

I lifted my gaze and let it rest on both men. The older of the two felt it, looked up and automatically grinned back. ‘Right! Let’s get started! So, I’m Hamish, I… oh, I’ve forgotten my sugar.’ He frowned down at his drink. ‘Hang on.’ He jumped up, but as a man with a waist of reasonable girth, he accidentally jogged the table, making the liquid dance out of our mugs. ‘Damn, sorry both! I’ll get some napkins too.’

He hurried to the stand of sachets and spoons by the till, and I turned my attention to his colleague. ‘This is a very swish new coffee shop!’ I commented, lifting my cappuccino to my lips. It was tepid and tasted like the milk had been strained through the seat of one of the burnt leather sofas that were dotted artfully around the room. I wished I’d asked for the water I’d wanted, instead.

‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘We haven’t got enough beds, but at least we have double roast.’

I shrugged helplessly, and he sighed. ‘I know, right?’

Hamish returned, dumped a pile of paper napkins over the largest spill, wiped his hands on his trousers and sat down again. ‘Where were we?’

You were just about to wonder – now I’m sitting right in front of you – if everything you’ve read about me in the papers is true.

Each of the headlines I’d memorised word for word flicked through my mind before I could stop myself.

‘Arrogant’ Surgeon Suspended

Spurned Surgeon ‘Threatened Medical Director and Patient Safety’

Vindictive Surgeon Demonstrated ‘Dangerous Lack of Respect’ for Protocol

Still squinting, I moved my chair further to the right so I was out of the sun’s glare completely. I was starting to feel hot – despite sitting under an aggressive air-conditioning vent – but Hamish was too busy with his sugar to notice my discomfort, tugging at the corner of his sachet vigorously. We all watched the crystals fly everywhere, bouncing over the table to land in the sad coffee puddles. I stayed diplomatically silent.

Hamish bit his lip. ‘Tan, can you take over, please?’

His right-hand man cleared his throat. ‘Sure. So, I’m Tanveer Husain.’ He repeated his earlier introduction, nodding at me. His voice was quiet and shy. ‘I work closely with Hamish. I guess your first question is: do we think this is a good place to work?’

‘It is really – yes,’ I agreed.

‘Well, regional posts in hospitals like this genuinely are…’ Tanveer hesitated, before continuing delicately, ‘dead man’s shoes. They don’t often come up simply because no one wants to leave. Hamish can vouch for that. He’s one of the longest-serving team members in the department. How many years is it now, Hamish?’

Hamish had happily sorted himself out and sipped his coffee. The flesh of his neck bulged over his tight collar as he swallowed. He needed the next size up. ‘Lord, more than I care to remember.’ He brushed some rather unruly sandy hair out of his eyes. ‘Tan’s right – I’m part of the furniture now, but the good thing about the way everyone stays put, is we all have the chance to really get to know each other and function as a cohesive whole.’ He smiled and placed his cup down, folding his hands in his lap. ‘Although that’s not to say the department is complacent, outdated or static as a result! We’re definitely holding our own!’ He looked dismayed and immediately moved his hands back into sight, on the table. ‘If you get my drift.’

‘Obviously, it’s not perfect,’ Tan caught my eye. I thought I saw a flash of dry humour. ‘Personally, I was really unsure about moving to the area when we relocated from the Midlands – it’s not exactly “ethnically diverse” down here.’ He sat up a little straighter. ‘But it’s been great for my kids.’ He reached out for his coffee. ‘They haven’t looked back.’

‘That’s really good to know.’ I decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room. ‘I just want to get it right this time.’

‘That’s understandable, given your recent experiences.’ Tan’s voice was sympathetic, but I noticed Hamish had crossed his arms. ‘In lots of other hospitals, as you know, the dinosaur age is almost over,’ Tan continued. ‘The old-boy network will have retired within the next ten years; it’s nowhere near so white, or so middle-class male anymore. Here, we’re behind that curve in the hospital overall. While I can tell you that there is definitely room for improvement balance-wise, bullying or intimidation will not be tolerated.’ He held my gaze unfalteringly.

‘Thank you, that’s good to hear too,’ I said.

‘It’s actually very encouraging that we’re attracting the attention of candidates of your calibre.’ Hamish jabbed a finger in my direction, his jacket lifting, revealing deep-set wrinkles in the linen that suggested it hadn’t been cleaned recently. ‘We want to build on our reputation that this is a progressive department. You’d be sharing an office with both of us and one of the other consultants, a chap called Nathan. He’s sorry he can’t be here but it’s one of his private practice days.’

‘It’s fine,’ I assured them. ‘I’ve met almost everyone else now. I’ve got enough of a picture to know I’d enjoy working here.’ I could have punched myself in the face the moment the words were out of my mouth. I sounded desperate. No one is attracted to desperation.

Tanveer smiled. ‘You’d be with the better of the two plastics teams, if that helps make your decision any easier?’

My decision? I froze for a moment. Was this as good as in the bag? I laughed. ‘I’ve no doubt that’s true.’

‘You really would be warmly welcomed. I hope you’ll come here,’ Tan assured me.

I sensed a sincerity in both his words and demeanour, which was so comforting I almost began to relax, but not quite. That the Devon and Cornwall Trust were even considering employing me full stop was a miracle, given I’d legally and very publicly forced my last employers to reinstate me after I’d been escorted off the premises, handily tipped-off journalists shouting questions as cameras were shoved in my face. If I was now this close to securing a post here, I could not afford to trip up in sight of the finishing line.

So it was only once we’d warmly parted company, that I allowed a little spring in my step and my smile to spread as I followed the signs back to the main hospital entrance. They said it was my decision. They wanted me…

The automatic doors opened and I stepped out into glorious Devon summer sunshine. I took a moment to slip off my jacket and roll up my sleeves, feeling the warmth beating down on my face and forearms. We were going to live here. I would finally be able to close the door on one of the most horrendous experiences of my life, leave it all behind, move us away and start again! Feeling excited for the first time in months, I started towards the car, then paused and dashed back to the hospital shop, buying four celebratory ice lollies. Holding them upside down by the corner of the wrappers, I let an ambulance pass, then crossed the road and hurried to the shady corner of the car park where I’d left my poor family.

The doors were all open and I could see Alex’s pale, shorts-clad teenage legs hanging out of the back. They looked even lankier than usual, given he’d kept his enormous trainers on. With socks. It was certainly a look.

‘Hey!’ I smiled, appearing alongside the door. ‘It was too hot to go for a walk then? I’m sorry I was so long, but I’ve got treats?’

‘Ooh. Thanks, Mum!’ Alex removed his headphones and sat up, readjusting his slipping glasses and taking one of the lollies from my outstretched hands. Cassia vacated the front passenger seat, fanning herself grumpily, and took another without a word, before walking round to climb into the back again. I let the lack of gratitude go, given how long they’d been waiting and took my place in the front alongside Ewan. He looked at me expectantly.

‘Really good!’ I confirmed.

My husband’s face split into a grin. ‘So you think?…’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘I knew they’d want you! I TOLD you!’ he exclaimed and leant forward to kiss me.

‘Dad! PDA – never okay.’ Cassia wrinkled her nose. ‘Public display of affection,’ she explained as Alex frowned and opened his mouth. ‘Can we go now, please, and get the air-con on before I actually expire?’

Ewan ignored her, taking my hand in his. ‘That’s really great, Julia, but remember you don’t have to say yes when they offer it to you, unless you want to. It’s your call.’

I looked at his earnest face. I knew he meant every word, but if I accepted, it would mean he could take the local teaching job he’d been offered: a head of department role at a school he was excited about, which also had spaces reserved for Cass and Alex. We’d be able to exchange on the house we’d all viewed together and loved. We’d be in for the start of the September term. Our new lives could begin. And what was to say I would be offered anything else? The staff at the Exeter Memorial Hospital seemed nice. The department was busy and covered a large geographical area, so there would probably be some interesting enough work. I wasn’t exactly looking for a high-octane environment in any case. Most importantly of all, they wanted me, despite everything. ‘I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.’

Ewan frowned. ‘They’re lucky to have you, not the other way around.’

I was so grateful for his unwavering loyalty, but privately, I knew I had to be realistic about my options. ‘Let’s go and drive past the new house.’

The narrow, one-way street forming the main artery through the village we would soon be calling home, was busy with wandering holidaymakers licking ice creams and peering in small shop windows. We had to make an impromptu stop, pulling into the car park next to the boatyard so that Alex could nip into the nearby pub and have a wee, but miraculously, we found a space. As he shot out and Ewan and Cass started a lazy debate about what radio station we ought to be listening to, I opened my door and wandered to the edge of the harbour wall.

The smell of chips was wafting from the vent of the pub kitchen, and I breathed in hungrily, my tummy rumbling. A small sailboat was heading peacefully towards the mouth of the Exe and as it drifted past, I wondered if sailing might be something Alex would like to try. I pictured his reedy body swamped by a lifejacket, helming carefully while staring at the horizon through his thick, bottle-end glasses, and as ever when I thought of Alex bravely stepping out of his comfort zone, I got a lump in my throat. He’d had such a shit time of it recently. Maybe it could be something we would learn to do together, as a family.

Glancing across the river to the crumbling, rust-red sandstone banks on the other side, a fresh, welcome breeze lifted my hair. I was so glad that last interview was over and it seemed I was no longer damaged goods. Closing my eyes, I replayed the performance of my barrister, Charles, for the hundredth time; summing up to the jury, validating me:

‘Those who run the Royal Grace hospital would have you believe my client was an unstable, spurned woman, hell-bent on destroying a fellow male surgeon who’d the audacity to rebuff her affections. The truth of the matter was Ms Julia Blythe was illegally forced from her job amid a campaign of smears and intimidation. Why? Because she highlighted the unsafe practise of said male colleague… and he didn’t like that one little bit. He sank into the ranks of his ‘fraternity’ when Ms Blythe blew the whistle, whereupon they all opened fire.

‘She should have been praised, thanked and congratulated for her bravery. Instead, she was treated in the most heinous of ways: dead animals sent to her home, bloodied sanitary materials left in her office, suspended on the most spurious of grounds, excluded from theatre, which is known to be disastrous for a surgeon who relies on the constant practise of their skill-set to stay at the top of their game, as Ms Julia Blythe undoubtedly was.’

He’d furiously removed his glasses at that point, as if it was all too ludicrous for words. I don’t know if it was a staged gesture or genuine.

‘All while her accusers continued to spread their lies in an attempt to discredit her, because they knew she was right. Julia Blythe did everything expected of her, yet this was her reward?’

My skin started to hurt, and I opened my eyes again. Looking down, I saw blood under my fingernails. I’d been absently scratching the delicately scabbed eczema on my arm and wrist, which had flared up. Mentally revisiting what had happened ahead of today’s meeting; planning how I’d explain about the devastating time I’d had – if asked by my prospective new colleagues – had proven unsettling.

But it was done now. Hamish and Tan understood. They’d been kind. It was time to leave my painful experiences behind, if this relocation was going to be a success. I didn’t want what had happened to play any further part in my life. I didn’t want it to have any more power over me.

‘Mum?’

I turned and Alex was standing uncertainly behind me. ‘I’m done.’

‘Me too.’ I held out my arm to shepherd him back to the car.

We paused outside the new house once we’d driven round, cut the engine and listened to the sleepy sound of buzzing lawnmowers and seagulls calling overhead. Ewan sighed happily and took my hand as we looked up at the last of the afternoon sun catching the upstairs windows, firing them golden and lighting the foiled estate agent’s logo on the ‘Sale Agreed’ sign.

‘That’s my bedroom there, the one on the right, isn’t it?’ Alex leant through the gap between us and pointed up at it.

‘Yes.’ I winked at him.

‘And mine is the middle one?’ Cass asked.

‘Certainly is,’ Ewan agreed, and she smiled suddenly.

‘I like it.’

That was it. Decision made. I was taking the job.

We were ready to be happy again.

I took the stairs rather than the lift – two at a time, my footsteps echoing pleasingly – and passed a husband and wife on their way down, looking lost and clutching a bulging plastic bag full of food: visitors. Sure enough, they asked me where Hampton ward was. They were at completely the wrong end of the hospital and two floors higher than they needed to be, so I set them right. The wife blushed and shot me a furtive last look over her shoulder as, whistling, I carried on up to the office and they descended into the bowels of the building.

I could pretend I’m not aware of the effect my looks have on women, but that would be ludicrous when I’ve spent most of my adult life taking full advantage of it. I’m not of Spanish or Italian descent, contrary to popular assumption. My mother is American, my father English and there’s a touch of Scots in the background. I only appear swarthy when I’ve got a tan… at which point I will gleefully ham it up. Not so much now as when I was a bored junior doctor, when for my own amusement, I used to put on a heavy accent in the manner of Antonio Banderas. I got caught out eventually, of course, when I simply forgot to do it one day and was rightly told to pack it in.

It would also be disingenuous to moan that looking this pretty means I’m never taken seriously; I couldn’t give a fuck. I’ve heard patients call me Dr Fit – or suggest I’m giving them all sorts of fever – on the phone to family when they think I can’t hear. I don’t care; it means I get away with a lot more than most colleagues because people are too busy staring at me. I stopped bothering with full explanations of patients’ surgery years ago; they weren’t listening. I realised all I had to do was sweep into the room, smile, flirt a bit, tell them they looked amazing and that I really enjoyed doing their op – because who doesn’t like to feel special? No hassle, no tedious questions… just in, out, on to the next.

‘Afternoon!’ I smiled at the new breast care nurse – whose name I couldn’t quite remember: Maeve? Maura? better not risk it – as she approached down the other side of the corridor, clutching an oversized envelope. ‘Hot enough for you?’

She stared at me like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

‘Outside.’ I nodded at the window as I passed her. ‘It’s warm out there today.’

‘Oh! Yes – very!’

‘Have a nice weekend.’ I laughed, knowing she was checking out my arse.

‘You too, Mr Sloan!’

I was still smirking as I breezed into the office to find Hamish sitting inches from his whirring desk fan, eyes closed, forehead shiny and cheeks like blanched tomatoes. Tan was busily sorting through some papers, the sleeves on his otherwise spotless white shirt rolled up.

‘Hello children!’ I flopped down into my chair and put my feet up on the desk. ‘Hamish, you look as hot as a dog. Busy day?’

‘Very.’ He eyed me. ‘You, on the other hand, look fresh as a daisy.’

‘I’ve been on the RIB this afternoon,’ I confessed. ‘I only had a couple of ops at the Goldtree this morning, so I thought I’d pop down to the marina and bounce around the bay for a bit. Beautiful day for it. You should come next time.’

‘You’re not getting me in that hairdresser’s motorboat, thanks.’

‘Too fast for you?’ I teased. ‘You stick to your sails then, yacht-boy. Anyway, how did you get on earlier? That’s really why I’m here. That and to see if you want to grab a quick beer on the way home?’

‘Can’t, unfortunately. Cecily’s mother is coming to stay for the weekend. It’s her ninetieth on Sunday.’ Hamish sighed. ‘So, I’ll be rushing home to listen to the television at ear-splitting levels and making endless cups of weak tea. By earlier, I assume you mean how was our chat with Julia Blythe, while you were busy tending to your privates?’

I laughed as I settled back into my chair. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. So what’s she like?’ I waited, my eyes gleaming. When Hamish frowned and scratched his head, but said nothing, I turned to Tan instead. ‘Well?’

‘She’s one of those women you couldn’t describe as pretty…’ Hamish appeared to have collected his thoughts after all. ‘She’s got dark, straight hair. Very direct blue eyes, thin face. No tits or hips. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a gym bunny; she looks the type. Not had any work done on herself at all, I don’t think. Shorter than I expected. Power suit. She’s attractive, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.’

I stared at him. ‘I know what she looks like, you fool. Although that was an alarmingly comprehensive precis. I mean, how did she play it?’

‘Oh. I see. Sorry.’ He hesitated again. ‘She was… polite, direct – but she told us she’d enjoy working here. It was obvious she really wants the job, which Tan practically offered her on the spot.’ He raised an eyebrow at Tan, who looked embarrassed and shrugged. ‘She’s very comfortable in her own skin. I spilt my coffee and she looked a little pained – just watched me clean it up while I slopped about under her nose. I imagine she makes a lot of people feel flustered. If I had to choose one word it’d be – crisp… or smug.’

‘I didn’t get that feeling at all,’ Tan cut in. ‘I thought—’

‘Aloof, brisk: there are two more,’ Hamish continued. ‘If she’s got a sense of humour, I’ve no doubt it will be very dry and terribly sophisticated.’ He rolled his eyes.

I sat back, delighted. During her trial, I’d imagined Julia’s barrister telling her to look unapologetic, focused and driven at all times. When I’d watched her walk from court to a waiting car on TV, I’d wondered if the way she’d so confidently held herself might just be part of the performance, so to hear that she was the real deal and everything I’d hoped she be was intoxicating news. Well, well, well…

‘So you didn’t like her then?’ I asked Hamish, who began to fumble around in his pocket.

‘I didn’t warm to her, put it that way.’

I considered that with interest. I’d read in more than one newspaper that Julia Blythe was ‘difficult’ – although that’s often a criticism levelled at women who don’t automatically smile. ‘Arrogant’ was another popular description of her; but might that not just be a professional woman simply too busy to indulge the worn-out anecdotes of her extremely dull and – evidentially in the case of the Royal Grace hospital – inept colleagues? Most men know when a woman isn’t ever going to be taken in by their ‘charm’, at which point they dismiss her as having a certain froideur – a la poor Hamish, forever the fat kid who never gets the girl – but I find that kind of woman’s refusal to accommodate mediocrity both refreshing and intriguing. So what if she wasn’t big on small talk? Personally, I loathe it; unless it’s entertaining – rare – or about me.

Real life Julia Blythe sounded like a delicious amalgamation of Kristin Scott Thomas, Cate Blanchett, Tilda Swinton and Gillian Andersen. A grown-up, experienced woman with a cool and collected sexual allure. A proper challenge.

‘What’s her voice like?’ I asked. It would be unbearable to have perfection ruined by a pedestrian accent.

‘Her voice?’ Hamish looked up from his mobile phone. ‘Borderline posh. Why?’

Lovely. I sat up, decided. ‘OK, so do we think we can make this work? The powers that be are going to plonk someone new in the team with us – we have no choice over that – but we can at least influence who we get lumbered with and Julia Blythe ticks the boxes for me; she can’t afford to rock any more boats. Tan,’ I pointed at him, ‘she gets your vote too?’

‘Of course she does. He thought she was very nice,’ Hamish cut in. ‘As I said, he got positively animated at one point.’

Tan glanced at Hamish, then down at his desk. ‘Yes, I liked her.’

‘For the record, she wasn’t a horror.’ Hamish chucked his phone down and crossed his arms. ‘But I’m not sure you’re right, Nate. I don’t think she’s anyone’s fool, and I don’t think she’ll obediently keep her head down for one second.’ He looked at me pointedly. ‘You’re assuming her now-screwed CV means she’ll be meek, mild and choose to look away if she sees something she ought not to once she comes here. I worry she’ll do the exact opposite. There’s a real danger we might be biting off more than we can chew. It’ll be a bloody nightmare if we saddle ourselves with some trigger-happy rabid #metoo-er. What if she’s only too happy to snap on the surgical gloves and give the department a painful examination? Who knows what she might find?’

‘As usual you’re completely missing the point.’ I swung my legs round and got up, walking to the window to look out at the car park below, watching several cars searching fruitlessly for a space. ‘It’s precisely because she’s got that trigger-happy reputation that I want her here. The whole Royal Grace debacle was ridiculous. They all came out of it looking batshit, if you want my honest opinion, but the fact remains, she blew the whistle. You cannot blow it again in a completely different location without it looking like it might be you that’s the problem. She’s got form now – and that’s what makes her so useful to us.’ I turned to face them again. ‘I’m not suggesting we sit her down on the first day and tell her everything we like to do here; I’m simply saying should she open a cupboard, something a bit grubby tumbles out and she trots faithfully off to the management… we’ve got a compelling defence. We gently suggest making up bullshit about male colleagues is exactly what Julia Blythe likes to do; precisely why she had to leave her last job.’ I shrugged.

‘So to recap, given we have no choice that someone is going to be foisted on us, having her coming into the department – ready gift-wrapped in scandal – is far less of a threat than some unknown quantity. If she’s a bit up herself, so much the better. No one likes a know-it-all. However, I’m sure we can think of something to do to her once she’s here that will guarantee she holds her silence, if you’re really worried?’

‘Hmmm.’ Hamish was still sceptical. ‘You’re sure she hasn’t piqued your interest for some other reason?’

‘Well naturally, I’m also going to fuck her.’ I deadpanned and Hamish laughed. Tan winced miserably.

‘Oh Tanny!’ I sighed, heading back to my seat. ‘Come on, don’t look like that.’ I waited until he met my eye. ‘You’re right – I’m an insufferable arsehole, I’m sorry. Don’t be cross with me.’ I stuck my bottom lip out then winked at him before grinning.

‘She’s had a very difficult time.’ He spoke so quietly I struggled to hear him.

‘Well, I’m sure she has, but I still think it would be wise for me to at least check how big her balls really are?’

Tan closed his eyes, and Hamish snorted.

‘Nathan, please,’ Tan began. ‘She—’

‘No one gives a toss what you think, Tan,’ Hamish interrupted. ‘Although, you’re not actually going to get involved with her, are you?’ He turned to me. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to muddy the waters. Better that you give this one a wide berth.’

I gave him a bland smile. ‘If you say so.’

He looked relieved. I saw no reason to break it to him that I had every intention of pursuing Julia Blythe, finding the crack in her armour and prising it open. ‘Honestly, you just need to think of h