Trust Me

by Nell Grey

  “Sorted my old boiler out for me, didn’t you, love? And it’s still goin’ fine, fair play.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Sion popped the second half of his chocolate bourbon into his mouth.

  “I’m off to London in a bit. Got a job down there. That’s why I came ‘round now. I’m not sure if I’ll be back for the funeral. D’you know when it’ll be?”

  Maureen looked to the Family Liaison Officer.

  “They need to do the post-mortem first,” Diane confirmed. “After that, the coroner will release the body for the funeral. Usually takes a couple of weeks.”

  Maureen pushed the plate towards them, and Sion took another biscuit.

  “I’ll try my best, but you’ll understand if I’m not there?”

  “That’s alright, love.”

  She smiled gratefully at Sion.

  “You’ve done so much for me, already.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Can we talk, Annie? You’re making a big mistake.”

  Seb is leaning over my desk a little too closely into my personal space.

  My eyes dart around to check that no one’s watching us, and he takes the hint. After dropping a file onto my desk, he steps away.

  For the benefit of my co-workers near my corner office space, he projects publicly,

  “Come through to my office please, Annie.”

  He turns impatiently on his heels, beckoning me to follow.

  From the twentieth floor of his glass-lined office, the views stretch out far across the City mile.

  Seb shuts the door, then stalks towards me.

  I edge back.

  “Do I need to remind you of our company policy?”

  His face turns flinty.

  Passing me without eye contact, he anchors himself behind his desk.

  Desperate to retain the formality, I do the same, sitting stiffly in front of him.

  “If this is about the other night and the restaurant, Marnie’s in a bad place right now. She’s very suspicious. In the end, I couldn’t stay late in town… You knew how hard it would be, when you decided to come back from New York.”

  My stomach twists. It’s bad enough, already.

  Bringing up his wife, only adds more fuel to my already huge pyre of guilt. I’m the other woman. The hussy who had a fling with a married man. The home breaker. No one else needs judge me, I’m already doing a great job of it, all by myself.

  “Seb, it doesn’t matter about the other night. We’re done. It wasn’t working out between us.”

  His eyes are fixed in a stony stare. He’s not used to not being in control.

  “Very well,” he sighs. “If that’s what you want?”

  “It is.”

  He switches roles. Just like that. From lover to line manager.

  His eyes cut into me like a hot knife through refrigerated butter.

  “I need to raise something with you. From the People Empowerment Division.”

  “Who?”

  “Human Resources. HR. They say, they’ve found discrepancies in an appointment you made.”

  As Director of Customer Happiness (or Customer Services as we were called up until a month ago) I control all my division’s appointments. In my head, I begin sifting through all the new staff we’ve taken on recently. I can’t think why there’d be issues with any of them.

  From my rabbit in the headlights stare, Seb can tell that I haven’t got the foggiest notion of what he’s on about.

  “Lottie Mathews? Ring any bells?”

  “Lottie?”

  We were at university together.

  “She’s fab. She’s brought in heaps of new ideas. We’ve made some key changes already.”

  The large retail company Lottie worked for was downsizing, and I’d snapped her up for a junior leader role.

  “HR say, you didn’t follow protocol. That you interviewed her but didn’t declare that you were friends.”

  The look he gives me reminds me of a stoat I once saw on the farm as a kid. I caught it slicing its teeth into the neck of one of our chickens, sucking out the blood.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have a word.”

  A shiver runs through me.

  “It’s alright,” I counter, “I’ll go up there myself, and set things straight.”

  He flicks his gaze towards his computer screen, and I get up quickly, taking my cue to leave.

  “Annie?”

  My eyes slam head-on into his frosty glare.

  “I’ll call them too.”

  Giving him a cursory smile through gritted teeth, I head hastily for the door.

  I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to carry on like this. New York suddenly seems quite appealing again, even though I’m glad to be back in London. Maybe, it is time to look for a new job?

  One thing’s for sure about our relationship, or rather fling; because let’s be honest, it was little more than sex. Whatever this ‘affair’ was called, it’s been a huge mistake.

  “Everything okay in there?”

  Stacey stops by my desk as she saunters past.

  “Yeah, just a glitch. People Empowerment are after me about Lottie’s appointment.”

  I feel a headache coming on as I sit back down.

  “People, who?”

  “You didn’t read the email, either?”

  I rub my temples as a shooting pain begins to pulse right behind my left eye.

  “I’m gonna need one of their mindfulness sessions after this stress, that’s for sure.”

  “The hand that giveth and taketh away. Tell me how you get on.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Sorry, she’s not here.”

  Chantelle pops her head up from her workstation, as I knock on the Director of People Empowerment’s office door.

  “She’s uh… got a wellbeing appointment.”

  “You feelin’ empowered enough to help me, then?”

  “Don’t even go there, Annie. And how’s life in Customer Happiness?”

  “Oh, y’know; painting the world with rainbows, every call we answer.”

  “Can you tell me if there’s been a query on Lottie Mathews’ appointment?”

  “Lottie Matthews?”

  Chantelle looks confused.

  “Not that I know of, and I handle all the recruitment issues.”

  She types her name into her computer database.

  “Let me have a little look… Ooh.”

  She draws up some record, then pulls her computer screen discreetly out of my eyeline.

  Hold on a sec, I’ll just see if Imran knows anything.”

  She clicks out of the record, then goes over the main office area, where she speaks in hushed tones to another advisor, who I presume to be Imran. They’re glancing briefly over in my direction as they whisper together.

  Then, I see Chantelle discreetly putting in a call from Imran’s desk.

  When she comes back over to me, her face has changed. Gone is the chatty banter. She’s all corporate and business now.

  “Sorry about that, Annie. The Director’s been dealing with this.”

  Seb was right. There is an issue.

  Chantelle eyes me cagily as she sits back at her desk.

  “But, Lottie’s the best appointment I’ve made this year.”

  She scans the screen.

  “So it seems. Her reviews have been exemplary.”

  She glances up at me.

  “Did you write those?”

  “Yes.”

  It takes me a second to catch her insinuation.

  “Hold on…”

  “And you headhunted her? This friend of yours… from university?”

  Flustered, I try to protest.

  “Well, yes, I knew her at uni... but...we’re hardly friends… I mean we don’t…”

  “There’s no easy way to put this, Annie. There are irregularities.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Director recommends
that you’re suspended, until we investigate the matter fully.”

  “Suspended?”

  “We were intending to call you in for a meeting this afternoon. It’s in the diary.”

  “But, I haven’t…”

  “I know it’s sudden. But, suspension; it’s like a no-fault position.”

  Chantelle sees me gawping at her. Possibly about to blow. Shout. Cry. Make a scene.

  “Don’t worry, Annie. These things happen. Think of it as a free holiday.”

  ◆◆◆

  Back at my desk, I gather my stuff together in a stunned daze.

  And as the shock subsides, my anger begins to build. This is so unfair!

  I’m such a rule-taker. I would never try to cheat or do something I shouldn’t. I’ve never once over-claimed my expenses. Never pulled a sickie. Or been late. For God’s sake, I’ve never even filched a biro.

  I take three out of my desk drawer and stuff them into my bag.

  No, my only transgression ever, was Seb.

  There are no family photos on my desk. I always keep it clear.

  At least, I won’t have to walk the plank with the cardboard box of shame in my arms. They can keep my straggly spider plant, and my personalised to-do list from the office Secret Santa.

  I throw the three biros back onto the desk.

  Stuff the lot of them!

  I’ve turned off my computer, and I’m grabbing my bag to leave when Seb saunters over to my office space.

  I can feel my head beginning to pound again. He’s the very last person I want to see right now.

  “I thought you were gonna sort it,” I fling at him under my breath.

  “Annie, honestly I tried, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  His whispering smarminess makes my nostrils flare. What did I ever see in him?

  “This whole thing’s bloody ridiculous.”

  My fingers scour my bag for my security pass, so I can get out of there.

  “That’s what I told them too.”

  I fling the lanyard around my neck.

  “I really don’t understand why I can’t work whilst they’re looking into it?”

  “I know, it’s ridiculous… But, apparently, it’s company policy?”

  I stare at him hard.

  “Yeah, right.”

  I slam the desk drawer shut.

  “And we all know how good you are at sticking to that.”

  His eyes flash me a warning, as a couple of staff peek at us from behind their workstations.

  Why should I keep it together?

  But, people are beginning to take an interest in us. If I leave calmly, there’ll be nothing to gossip about. Annie Evans has left the building. For a late lunch, or a client meeting.

  “Use the time to take a break. You look tired.”

  Great! First, I get suspended, and now he tells me I’m looking like shit.

  “It’ll only be for a week, or so. They’ll be in touch when they’re done.”

  “Lottie’s a super appointment. You said so yourself.”

  “I’ll keep working on it for you.”

  He reassures me with an emollient smile.

  “Trust me.”

  CHAPTER 3

  ---------✸---------

  It feels odd, finding myself midweek in the middle of a mall.

  I’ve spent the last couple of hours aimlessly mooching around. Trying on clothes I’ve no intention of buying, spraying myself with free perfume samples, waiting for Stacey who’s meeting me as soon as she finishes work.

  How has this happened? And, so fast?

  I sit across from Stacey in the pseudo Italian-American restaurant chain, sampling happy hour cocktails. Mojitos, to be precise. Which I'm drinking way too fast. The deep crooning of Dean Martin fits my mood perfectly, as he sings on a loop in the background.

  “What I don’t understand is, who told HR about Lottie?”

  I prod my straw maliciously at the bruised and wilted mint in the crushed ice.

  “Only Seb knew that we were at uni together.”

  Stacey checks her phone.

  It slams into me hard. What an idiot I’ve been for not seeing it.

  Has he engineered all of this?

  Did Seb flag the appointment to HR, as soon as I’d ended it with him?

  Because I’m now a problem he’s trying to get rid of?

  Stacey watches the penny drop.

  “So?… He’s a shit.”

  She grabs two menus from the holder and tosses one to me.

  “What d’you fancy?”

  “No idea.”

  I’m so mad with him that I can’t focus on the ketchup-caked menu in front of me, let alone decide which carb-laden offering to choose.

  “I’ll just order another one of these.”

  I deliver another mortal wound to the mojito-flavoured slush.

  Stacey’s menu squelches shut.

  “Annie, you need to eat or you’ll be ill.”

  "I’m already sick. Sick to the back teeth of the bullshit that’s just gotten me suspended."

  She pulls a face, and I try to swallow my bitterness.

  “Have they said who’ll be looking after the division while I’m off?”

  Stacey squirms and plays with her necklace.

  “That was quick.”

  “Seb called me this afternoon and asked if I’d step up for a while.”

  Draining the last watery dregs, I try to process all of this.

  In a way, it’s a relief. Stacey’s a safe pair of hands and I won’t have to worry about work. But if I’m not worrying about that, what am I going to be doing? Sitting in my flat, watching daytime television?

  Or, God forbid, going home?

  I was there for three days at Christmas, and that was long enough, with my Dad in the state he was in.

  I shut that out of my mind. I don’t need any more guilt. Not today.

  I give Stacey a weak smile. It’s not her fault that she’s got dragged into this.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad it’s you. I hope you asked for a pay rise?”

  Stacey’s mouth curls. She has.

  “Use the time to take a break.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I dunno. Take a holiday? Clean your flat?”

  “I s’pose.”

  “Apply for other positions? There are plenty of senior customer services roles with much better pay,” she adds hastily.

  “Hmm… but not one where I get to shag my boss.”

  We both start to giggle.

  “I didn’t like to say this before, Annie, but you have heard the rumours about Seb, right?”

  I had. There was a marketing manager who’d left suddenly a couple of years back.

  “Oh God, Stace! Is that what everyone’s saying about me too?”

  Stacey sucks noisily on her straw.

  It’s confirmed. Our fling has not gone unnoticed.

  ◆◆◆

  “So, how long will you be here for?”

  Jason gave Sion a hand to unload the luggage from the Volvo Estate parked tightly on the South London suburban street.

  “A couple of weeks, tops. Is that alright?”

  “Yeah, ‘course, mate.”

  It was late, and he had to be up ridiculously early the next day.

  Sion shut the boot of the car and Jason carried the two sports bags to the house. Sion handled the two reinforced metal cases himself.

  “Stay as long as you like. I’m not gonna be here much, though. Got a couple of runs to Vegas this week.”

  “Sin City, eh? I quite fancy a night at the tables,” Sion said, stacking the luggage neatly in the spare bedroom. “Catch a few rays. Crash a pool party or two.”

  “One day, my friend. But this time, I’ll be laid over in an airport hotel, far away from the roulette wheels and the Cirque du Soleil.”

  Sion grinned at his old special forces buddy.

  “Still, doesn’t sound too bad. I bet, getting laid over in Vegas is a
regular occupational hazard for you guys?”

  Jason shook his head.

  “Yeah. And I haven’t heard that before.”

  Sion patted his friend warmly on the shoulder.

  “Great to see you, man.”

  Jason’s eyes met his warily.

  “You here speccing out another job?”

  Sion took off his jacket and jumper. The flat was positively tropical after the dampness of the old Welsh cottage.

  “Yeah. This one’s a bit on the risky side. But, y’know how I like the top end jobs.”

  “Interesting. Fill me in on the details.”

  “The less you know, the better.”

  They both knew that was true.

  “Ever think of doing a normal job?” Jason yawned, “Like the rest of us?”

  “What, like Farmer Jac? Or like you, Mr Big-Bucks Commercial Airline Pilot?”

  “Okay, whatever.”

  Jason went to the fridge and grabbed them both a beer. Prising off the tops, he handed one to his friend and they both slumped onto the sofas in the living area.

  “I mean it, Sion. One day, mate, they’re gonna catch up with you.”

  “Not while I’m still two steps ahead of ‘em… Cheers!”

  Sion’s short-sleeved t-shirt revealed the lower edge of his tattoo as he took a swig. A large Welsh Guards battalion emblem that Jac and Sion had done, before their first tour of duty.

  It had been Jac’s idea.

  A week before they flew out to Camp Bastion, Jac took one for the team and Sion got a cover-up for his scars. In particular, the thick blue carved-in marks that the older boys had given him on his first night in the children’s home. It was a deletion of the inked-in reminder of the worst time in Sion’s life.

  The worst, that was, until he’d done six months in the dusty deserts of Helmand. There, he gained new scars that couldn’t ever be etched away. Unless you could tattoo your brain.

  “Jac sends his regards, by the way.”

  “How’s he doing’?”

  “Fine when I left, but I’m not so sure how he’ll be in the coming days.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Annie’s dad, the guy he rents the farm off, he topped himself last night. They’ve been trying to get in touch with her, to come home.”

  “Annie?”

  Jason took a swig.

  “As in THE Annie?”

  Sion nodded.