The Couple in the Photograph
The Couple in the Photograph
Valerie Keogh
Copyright © 2021 Valerie Keogh
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The right of Valerie Keogh to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-914614-44-6
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Acknowledgments
A note from the publisher
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Also by Valerie Keogh
Books published by Bloodhound Books
The Dublin Murder Mysteries
No Simple Death
No Obvious Cause
No Past Forgiven
No Memory Lost
No Crime Forgotten
No Easy Answer
Psychological thrillers
The Three Women
The Perfect Life
The Deadly Truth
The Little Lies
The Lies He Told
In memory of my brother-in-law, Tony Lonergan.
Never forgotten.
1
Keri and Nathan Metcalfe were standing on the platform of a train station in Italy. Tracks stretched into the distance behind them and two rather battered suitcases stood at their feet. They were on their honeymoon. Young and in love. At six two, Nathan was eight inches taller than Keri and her head was tilted slightly upward, his a little down as they stared into one another’s eyes. Her arms were around his neck, his around her waist. The warmth of his hands came through the thin cotton of her dress. Almost flesh on flesh. The erotic thought curved her lips into a sensuous smile that made his brown eyes narrow in echoing lust.
How long had they stood like that – her copper curls dancing in the slight breeze that blew through the station, his shoulder-length black hair falling forward so that he had to keep taking his hand away to push it behind his ears – perhaps a minute, maybe only seconds. But time enough for a stranger to have captured the shot. She and Nathan had separated before the photographer hurried over. ‘I caught that pose,’ he said, sounding as pleased as if he’d photographed a rare sighting of a wild bird. ‘If you give me your address, I’ll send it to you.’
Keri remembered staring at the man’s prominent, crooked yellowish teeth and shaking her head, ready to say, no thanks, but even as she prepared the polite words of refusal, Nathan was spilling their name and address, repeating it slowly, spelling out the name of the street, and their surname.
‘What harm could it do?’ Nathan had said later when the train was chugging through the countryside to their destination. ‘If he sends it to us, we’ll have a nice photo, if he doesn’t, we’re no worse off, are we?’
Nathan was right, of course.
The photograph arrived a couple of weeks later. The stranger might have been dentally challenged but he had managed, by skill or luck, to have captured the magic of that moment in the train station.
But Nathan was also wrong. What harm could it do?
What possible harm could a photograph of the newly wed and very much in love couple cause?
2
Keri Metcalfe rocked gently back and forth on her office chair. There were contracts that needed to be looked over but she couldn’t stir up any enthusiasm. It was Friday, there was nothing urgent that couldn’t wait till Monday.
She’d promised their children, twins Abbie and Daniel, to be home on time for a change and they’d also made her promise to bring Nathan with her. They were up to something, something more to mark their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary than the dinner Keri had organised in their favourite restaurant. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped to whatever gods there may be that they’d not organised a surprise party.
It had been an exhausting week. Once again, she wondered if it wasn’t time to take a step back from her role as partner in the conservation and restoration company she and Nathan had founded shortly after they married. Metcalfe Conservation was regarded as one of the best in the UK but with that came commitments and responsibilities.
Their success had been hard won. They’d taken an enormous risk in the beginning. The banks refused their initial loan application so they’d borrowed money from both sets of parents to start up. Keri was convinced that Nathan’s passion for the restoration of historic buildings combined with his skill as a stonemason was a winning combination. He was equally convinced that her organisational skills would make it work. And it did. But the early days were tough.
They rented a small premises and took on a couple of craftsmen, paying a higher hourly rate to get the best. Keri and Nathan worked long hours, and in the first year took any job that was offered. If Nathan considered some of this work beneath him, if he worried that a couple of the companies had less than ethical practices, Keri waved the sheaf of unpaid bills and lifted an eyebrow. She didn’t need to say a word. All the money they made went to pay the wages and bills. Nathan worked seven days a week, and when the ends still refused to meet Keri took a part-time job in a local pub.
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They were always tired but neither ever considered giving up, convinced success was a stretch of a finger away. Plans, hopes and wishes kept them going and despite the exhaustion, they were happy.
A little over a year later, they’d built a small client base and gained a reputation for excellent work and reliability. Capitalising on this, they moved to bigger offices and took on additional staff. With more work coming in, extra quotations to give out, contracts to sign and staff to organise, Keri finally gave up her job in the pub.
Shortly after they’d moved into their new office, she insisted that she and Nathan start taking Sundays off. ‘We need time to relax,’ she said to him. ‘You’ve been looking tired recently.’ She cupped her hands around his face. He did look tired and those dark circles under his eyes were new. She always slept like she’d been knocked unconscious, maybe he’d not been sleeping so well. ‘Is everything okay, Nate?’
‘Fine,’ he said placing his hands over hers. He took them away and drew her closer.
Fine. Keri knew that word. She used it herself often enough when she was pissed off about something she didn’t want to talk about. She started watching Nathan more closely. He was drinking more, eating less. He was a handsome man with the dark hair and olive complexion he’d inherited from a Greek grandmother who had died when he was a baby. His hair, long when Keri had met him, was now kept for convenience almost militarily short. It suited him, or at least it had until he’d lost weight. Now with his full cheeks slightly sunken, he could pass for an extra in a movie about a concentration camp.
They’d always talked about everything but now, when she asked if there was anything worrying him, his eyes slid away from hers and he laughed dismissively. She knew there wasn’t another woman… not because she was so convinced he’d always be faithful, although she was, but because she knew where he was for every minute of every day.
She kept a closer watch, assigned him easier jobs, asked subtle questions of the other craftsmen but discovered nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually, she decided it had been stress, and when he’d said he’d work on the Sunday of a particularly busy week, she shook her head. ‘You need a rest. Anyway, I want us to sit down and discuss the details of that business philosophy we’ve been talking about forever.’
It was still work, but she took him to a local pub for Sunday lunch, and over the food, with a couple of pints for him and glasses of wine for her, they drew up a company philosophy that promised to adhere to the highest work practices and health and safety standards.
Keri picked up the A4 pad and read over what she’d written. She looked at Nathan with a smile and lifted her glass to tip it gently against his. ‘Here’s to Metcalfe Conservation. We’re getting there, Nate.’
He took the notes from her and read them over. ‘This is where I wanted us to be. Professional and ethical.’ He put the pad down on the table, laid his hand flat on top and looked at her with an unusually serious light in his eyes. ‘I’d like to start turning down work that doesn’t meet these standards.’
She pointed to his hand. ‘It looks almost as if you’re making an oath!’
‘Maybe I am.’ Then he pulled his hand away and laughed. ‘No harm, is there, in making an oath to be the best we can be.’
‘No.’ She reached for his hand and clasped it between hers. ‘No harm at all. We’re going to be a great success, I know it.’
3
The slightly worrying dip in their income following their decision to turn down work that didn’t meet their standards only lasted weeks. Keri had cleverly used their newly devised company philosophy in a marketing campaign and posted a copy to every contact in their database. She also persuaded a journalist in a local popular newspaper that they were worth a full-page article. It helped that Keri and Nathan were photogenic, he with his slightly exotic good looks and she with her pale skin and thick mane of shoulder-length copper curls.
She would have preferred that the journalist concentrate on the company, their new philosophy, their skill and expertise, but Keri wasn’t a fool – if their smiling faces were what the journalist wanted, that’s what she’d get, but Keri made sure that the background to each shot had the Metcalfe Conservation logo in view.
Either the marketing campaign or the newspaper article, or a combination of both, brought them more work. Two months later, as they walked home hand in hand one evening, they weighed up their options. They discussed the contracts they’d bid for… the ones that would guarantee work for months… and talked about expanding.
‘Qui audet, vincit.’ Keri laughed at Nathan’s surprise. ‘It’s the only Latin I can remember. Who dares, wins. I think we should take the risk and go for it.’
So they did.
In their new spacious and more salubrious office with more staff on their payroll, they were back to counting pennies and eating cheap meals. They took turns to bolster each other’s spirits when exhaustion weighed them down, piercing the gloom with talk of their future and the success that was waiting for them.
Slowly, the risk and their hard work began to pay off.
‘We should get a bigger apartment,’ Nathan said, when they’d signed a contract with a company that would guarantee work for a minimum of three years.
Keri looked around their tiny cluttered home. A bigger apartment? It was so tempting, but she was the practical one and shook her head. ‘How much time do we spend here, really? I’d be happier to stay put for the moment, pour all the profits back into the business, and pay our parents back what we borrowed.’
It took another year to repay the loans by which time they’d moved into yet bigger offices, taken on more staff and won several more contracts for restoration of historical buildings.
‘Now we can move into a bigger apartment,’ Keri said waving the latest signed contract. ‘We’re on our way, Nate!’
By the time their twins Abbie and Daniel were born two years later, they’d made their first million. The following year, Keri and Nathan bought their first home together, a Victorian three-storey house on Northampton Park, one of the nicer areas of Islington, North London.
‘It’ll be our forever home,’ she’d said when he questioned why they needed to move from a two-bedroomed apartment into a six-bedroomed house. ‘And look–’ She pushed open the bifold doors. ‘–tad dah!’
The one-hundred-foot back garden, with tall trees at the boundaries blurring the edges to give the impression of the house being set in the countryside rather than the middle of London, was certainly impressive.
It was enough to persuade Nathan. ‘It’s fabulous.’ He turned back to the house. ‘Not sure what we’re going to do with all the rooms though.’
Keri laughed and hugged him. ‘We’ll have lots more children to fill them.’
She wanted to wait until Abbie and Daniel were older. In a year or two the business would be on a secure enough footing that she could step back from it and concentrate on her family.
But the years passed too quickly and despite their energetic attempts, more children never materialised. Keri and Nathan had grown into the house, not with the bigger family they’d hoped for, but with staff to free them to concentrate on the business.
Leigh, their live-in nanny, Freda who kept the house clean and Sarah who cooked nutritional if not very exciting meals five days out of seven.
Sometimes, Keri felt like a stranger in her own home and she swallowed the irrational resentment when she came in from work to find these women enjoying the beautiful house that she spent little time in. But all three adored Abbie and Daniel which made leaving the twins every day a little easier. Now and then, she’d think about reducing her days in the office, maybe doing a four or even a three-day week, but then another big contract would come in and she’d be swallowed by the work.
Success had its own problems. With so much work coming their way from the north of England and Scotland, Nathan had suggested they open a branch of Metcalfe Conservation in Glasgow. It made sense.
&nb
sp; It also meant that she and Nathan were spending more nights apart.
4
Keri rocked back and forth on her chair again before pushing to her feet. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Nathan had left work at the same time. He was often away overnight, either in Glasgow or to be near where one of their teams was working. She’d given up arguing that he didn’t need to attend every site. He was convinced that the personal touch was one of the reasons for their success.
Recently, she couldn’t be bothered arguing the point.
She left her office and crossed the broad stretch of the reception area to Nathan’s door. The two offices, separated by a short corridor, were arranged in a semicircle around the reception desk. Both had glass walls – it was supposed to indicate their complete belief in transparency and had seemed like a good idea when they’d had an architect design their new headquarters several years before.