by KERRY BARNES
Eric leaned forward and rubbed her shoulder. ‘You ain’t on your own, Zara. I’ll help. I can drive you to a meeting tomorrow, if you’d like me to.’
Unexpectedly, Zara’s eyes filled up and two large tears cascaded down her cheeks. She hastily brushed them away and tried to push herself out of the chair.
Eric quickly assisted, by sliding his arm under hers. ‘Hey, Zara, what’s the matter, babe?’
His gentle words almost had her blubbering. ‘Oh, I’m so worried about Neil. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.’ As soon as she said that, she felt his grip tighten.
‘I didn’t know you and Neil were so close.’
‘Yes, very close, actually. We worked together for five years. He was always popping in to see I was okay. The Lanigans were good to me, you know.’ Her mind preoccupied, the severe look on his face escaped her, but she sensed his prickly tone.
‘How good were they, Zara?’
Not realizing there was a dark undercurrent to his voice, however, she just smiled sweetly and replied, ‘Like family, really. It was such a bonus when you have no one.’
She excused herself to use the cloakroom. Once behind the closed door, she allowed the tears to fall for many reasons. With Neil now fighting for his life and that niggling doubt that she couldn’t compete with a younger woman, a multitude of emotions swept through her mind. But the worst of them was that she didn’t feel a complete woman. She sat on the toilet seat and tried desperately hard not to allow herself to sob. She had to pull herself together; this was a homecoming for Mike, Ricky, and the boys, and, more than that, she had to hold her head up and show she was still a woman in control. Her weakness and vulnerability must not show through. She had to demonstrate she was the same person who could lead a firm – her firm.
After splashing some water on her face, she left and walked back into the garden. The lights had come on. She spotted Mike with his back to her; he was engaged in conversation with Jennifer, the leggy blonde, and Eric was with them.
As Eric clocked her standing there, he quickly nudged Mike. Right away, Zara felt as though Eric was giving Mike the heads-up that she was watching. Instead of joining their company, she turned around and looked for Gloria. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and chitchatting. For Zara, it was a stark reminder that apart from Mike’s family, she had no one. Pull yourself together, Zara, she thought.
Pouring herself a drink, she felt a presence behind her and hoped it was Mike, but, as she craned her neck, it was Eric. ‘Are you okay, babe?’ he whispered.
She nodded and glanced back at Mike, to find him heading her way.
‘There she is, the love of my life. Where were you, darling? No one knew where you were.’
She looked at Eric, who, surprisingly, winked. She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.
‘Oh, I was in the cloakroom. So, are you having fun, Mikey?’
With a pint in his hand and his cheeks glowing red, he nodded. ‘Aah, this means so much, here with my family, my mates. Let’s get this party going.’ He spun round and shouted to Ricky to turn the music up. Zara knew then he was pissed, and she suddenly felt drained. Mike was getting warmed up, and she was ready for bed. It was yet another reminder that she was less than the woman she was before.
Ricky was in his element. Gloria was showing him off to everyone, and he felt a different person. For the first time in his life, he felt he had control, with no one stopping him from doing anything. He drank, he ate, and he could play any song he wanted to. The hugs and kisses were endless. All the guests had something complimentary to say, but the one thing that lifted his shoulders and made him proud were the words, ‘You, Ricky, are your father’s double, a chip off the old block.’
He knew the best song to play: it was ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams. That would get everyone in the spirit. As soon as the song came on, Mike threw his hands in the air and began dancing. Ricky was in stitches because it seemed so funny to see his father, the giant, the dangerous badass man, skipping and turning with two left feet and not giving a shit what people thought.
Staffie and Willie were equally inexpert: with pints in their hands, they bopped around, singing the words at the top of their voices. Mike waved Zara over to join them.
Zara felt awkward and was on the point of walking away, but Mike laughed. ‘Come on, Zara, show us how it’s done.’ But his playful mood suddenly plummeted as he went to grab her left hand and realized that it was no longer there. Her humiliation was written all over her face, and she couldn’t hold back how she felt by laughing it off. Instead, she started to walk away, but as she turned, there, in front of her, was Jennifer, swinging her hips and waving her arms. Zara skirted around her, holding back the tears.
Once she was in the safety of the empty kitchen, she took a deep breath; it was all too much. She should pack her things and return to her father’s home. Seeing a packet of cigarettes on the worktop, she tipped one out, placed it in her mouth, and lit the end. The first drag was soothing and let her muscles relax; the second one started to ease her mind. Taking a glance out of the window, she saw Jennifer grab Mike’s hands and dance, showing off her body by exaggerating her sexy moves. He was looking around, no doubt wondering where she’d gone, but as Zara continued to watch, it was apparent that Mike’s concern was short-lived; he was swigging back a fresh pint that was placed in his hand. If she went home tonight, she would look like a jealous girlfriend with the strops. She took one last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out. Deciding to head for her room, she filled a glass with cold water, irritated by how long and awkward it was with her disability, and then, with the sob trapped in her throat, she went upstairs for solitude.
Within a minute, there was a knock at the door, followed by a deep voice. ‘Can I come in?’
She assumed it was Mike and sat up straight on the bed. ‘Yeah.’
But as the door opened, there, taking up the doorway, was Eric. ‘Hey, babe, what’s the matter? Are you okay?’
His sympathetic eyes almost caused the trapped sob to leave. She breathed in through her nose to clear the emotion. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I feel a little under the weather, and, obviously, I’m concerned about Neil. I just thought that rather than dampen the mood, I’d take myself off to bed. If Mike asks where I am, would you just say I’m asleep? That I drank too much or something?’
He eased his way into the room and sat beside her. ‘Listen, Zara, Mike dancing with Jennifer is nothing. Serving a big lump means catching up, and once he has it out of his system, he’ll be back to the old Mikey you know. Just give him time.’
Zara stiffened. She wasn’t the type of woman to live like that – a husband getting his oats just because he’d missed out for twelve years. It wasn’t as if she’d had it easy herself. She’d been locked up too. ‘Well, maybe I should move out and give him time for, as you say, “catching up”.’
Eric stroked her hair. ‘You and Mikey will be fine. He’s just pissed and enjoying himself.’
She would have removed Eric’s hand, but her self-esteem and attempt at being in control were slowly ebbing away, so she let him continue. ‘I’m going to move back home. Eric, would you drive me tomorrow? I can’t . . . ’ She broke off as the tears fell and the sob escaped. In between broken words, she cried, ‘I am useless, now, I can’t do this . . . Mike deserves a real woman . . . and my business. Jesus, how can I run that?’
She wiped her face and cleared her throat. ‘I’m going to sell up everything and let the Lanigans take over completely. My dad was wrong. I just don’t have it in me.’
As Eric pulled her close, she allowed his arms to wrap around her.
‘Now, now,’ he whispered, ‘I’ll go with you tomorrow to meet Shamus, and we’ll take it from there. Your father wasn’t wrong, Zara. You are a strong woman, with a good head on your shoulders. You’ve been through a big ordeal, and you ain’t alone, babe. I’m here. I’ll help. Besides, Mike has his own business to take care of. He do
esn’t really need me.’
Registering what he’d said, Zara, pulled away. ‘What? You mean you’re not back on their firm?’ Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
He shook his head. ‘No. Mike has Staffie, Lou, and Willie. Apparently, they’ve some other business they need to take care of. That’s why they were released early, but I guess you knew that. Mike must tell you everything.’
A dark thought ripped through her mind. Mike hadn’t told her why he was released early. In fact, he’d not discussed it with her at all. And she’d been too intent on making wedding plans and getting herself better even to ask. What was puzzling her though was why he hadn’t mentioned anything to her, when, clearly, Eric was better informed.
‘Er . . . do you know what this business is?’
He gave her another compassionate look. ‘Nope. See, that’s how I know he doesn’t want me working with him in the firm or he would have said. Still, that don’t matter. I’m just thrilled that he’s out now and that you are too.’
How strange, she thought. Mike would have told his family, surely, and herself, come to that, wouldn’t he? ‘Are you sure you haven’t any idea what this business is about?’
Eric smiled. He really didn’t know himself; he’d only overheard snippets from a conversation between Staffie and Willie while they were drunk at the homecoming. They had quickly shut up shop when they saw him hovering around. ‘Well, all I know is he was asked to do something, in return for his liberty. He didn’t elaborate, so I left it at that . . . Now, then, don’t you worry about Mike. Let’s just sort out your affairs. Like I said, I’ll help you, babe. You get some rest, and tomorrow, I’ll drive you to your meeting.’
He kissed the top of her head and made a move to leave the room.
‘Er . . . Eric, have you got a cigarette?’
Eric sat back down on the bed and looked directly into Zara’s desolate eyes.
‘Babe, don’t smoke. You don’t need to.’
Their gaze locked for a few seconds, and as Eric slowly blinked, he gently stroked her cheek. She felt the soft touch and unexpectedly craved more. She leaned into his hand, keeping it against her face, and closed her eyes. She could feel Eric’s warm breath caress her skin and his lips softly brush over hers. Whether it was the familiar aftershave, or, in that moment, experiencing a sense of being wanted, it didn’t matter. He pulled her closer, and his kiss that was harder, and more meaningful, suddenly snapped her out of the embrace. Subtly, she pulled away. ‘I’m sorry, Eric, it’s been a long day. I feel so tired.’
He didn’t force the connection but simply stroked her hair once more. ‘Of course, darling, you get some sleep,’ he replied, with such an empathetic look that it almost brought her to tears again.
Once he was gone, Zara felt as though she was experiencing a terrible dream, her mind now back on Mike. She was getting bad vibes but needed to trust her instincts. What was her relationship with Mike? Had she imagined this tight bond between them? Christ, what if she’d got him all wrong? For a moment, she almost wished Eric was back beside her on the bed. He’d made her feel special and she’d missed that so much.
***
Zara was woken by the vibration of her phone squashed against her chest. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed, and the phone was still in her top pocket. Through blurry eyes, she noticed the missed calls from Shamus. She suddenly bolted upright, her hand shaking. Oh my God! Neil! she thought. With a gruff, croaky voice, she said, ‘How is he, Shamus?’
There was a pause. ‘He’s pulled through, Zara. He’s gonna make it. I need to meet you this morning. Is nine o’clock okay?’
She glanced across at the bedside clock: it showed 6.45 a.m. Christ, have I been asleep that long? she thought. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, of course. You know where my father’s house is. Meet me there.’
Shamus paused. ‘Your father’s?’
‘Yes, Shamus, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s still my house and I’m not worried. In fact, I’ll feel right at home there.’
Dragging herself away from the soft duvet, she got to her feet and crept to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder that she was ageing fast, her hair lank and her eyes puffy. Her mind went back to the vision of Jennifer in that fitted red skirt and legs up to her armpits and then that fleeting moment with Eric. Taking a deep breath, she decided she wasn’t going to cry again. The thought of jacking it all in was instantly pushed from her mind. She wasn’t going to let her father down or Neil for that matter. Suddenly gripped by a gut-wrenching feeling, she hurried back to her room and the empty bed. Where was Mike, and, more to the point, who was Mike with?
Hesitantly, Zara crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. As she reached the door to the lounge, she held her breath, afraid of what she might see. She sighed and shook her head. ‘Pull yourself together. This is ridiculous, Zara,’ she muttered to herself.
Yet when she pushed open the door, she gasped and shook from head to toe. Her eyes couldn’t look away, too intent on absorbing the sight. A scream wanted to leave her mouth, but she fought to hold it back. There, on one sofa, was Mike, wearing nothing but his trousers. On another sofa was Jennifer, with her skintight skirt up over her arse and just her thong showing. Her hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared across her face.
Zara’s world had just caved in but her instincts hours before had been proved correct. All her hopes and dreams were pouring bit by bit into a vast sinkhole. Their relationship was over before it had even begun. Mike’s proposal must have been an irrational spur-of-the-moment promise – now just a throwaway comment. As if losing her hand wasn’t bad enough, losing her man was worse. Feeling like a peeping Tom, she scurried away back to her room. After throwing a few things into a bag, she left, quietly closing the door behind her. Once she was on the street, she pulled out her smartphone from her bag and used the Uber app to call for a taxi to take her home.
The drive back to the sizeable gloomy house was spent with her teeth chattering in shock, her one true love having dismissed her at the sight of a pretty woman. Perhaps she’d never really known Mike at all. It was apparent he didn’t feel the same way about her. All she wanted was to be in his arms and make up for all the time apart; and yet it was clear he was happy to flirt and obviously sleep with a tart right under her fucking nose.
The driver put the radio on and out blared ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams.
What? Is this a joke? ‘Turn that fucking shit off, please, and if I want music while I’m paying for my ride, then I’ll fucking ask for it.’
The driver was taken aback by the steely tone of the frail-looking woman’s voice. Instantly, he turned the music off. ‘I’m sorry, love. It was just force of habit.’
Zara didn’t respond. Instead, she stared gloomily out of the window and planned her future.
Her angry mood stayed with her as she stepped out of the car. She waited until the driver was out of sight before she pulled the keys from her bag. She paused and looked up at the vast, almost devilish-looking mansion. The paint on the woodwork was peeling, the gardens – once stunning – were overgrown, and the windows certainly needed a good clean. Izzy would be turning in his grave. He had loved this house – it had been his pride and joy – and he’d had it designed to his demanding specification.
She felt that a new chapter was about to begin in her life. Once she pushed the big oak door open, she gingerly entered the hall. Inside, it was filled with antiques, which were not her choice. The red drapes always made her feel like she was living in some historic time warp, the Tudor era. Yet everything was to Izzy’s taste. Assuming she would feel afraid, even just a little nervous, she was pleasantly surprised that although the house was tired and dusty, she felt at home. Perhaps it was the memories of how her father held her in such high esteem. Engaging her in all aspects of the business, he had gently and expertly prepared her for the takeover.
Closing the door behind her, she walked towards the back of the hou
se, to the door that led down to the basement, where she’d been held a captive for five years. She had to brave it out and revisit her prison; yet, this time there were no captors, there was no sly, sneaky brother tormenting her, or the evil eyes of the Segals watching her as she pretended to be a brain-damaged, broken woman.
Surprisingly, as she faced the barred metal door, she felt herself free at last of the mental shackles. Still holding her bag, she peered inside and looked at the boxes of antidepressants and knew that in order to take control of her life she needed to ditch them.
Once she’d stared for a while at what was her home for so long, she turned and marched back up the stairs and into her father’s office. She sighed heavily and plonked her bag on the desk. Guy Segal and his son Benjamin, with the help of Ismail, would have looked for every fucking file, trying to get their hands on her businesses. But they obviously didn’t know her father that well. For although Ismail had been surreptitiously nosing into their father’s affairs, there were still some things he’d never been able to understand, like the offshore accounts, the details of which were carefully concealed in several flash drives hidden under a floorboard. She pulled away the rug and removed the board, and there, to her delight and relief, were all the devices. Bingo! Now she could have the computer up and running and get back on track. As she lowered herself onto her dad’s high-backed mahogany chair, she felt an overwhelming sense of power. She may only have one hand, but it was her brain that was really her best asset.
By eight o’clock that morning, she was up and running. The accounts, all showing vast amounts of money, were feeding her confidence. She would take back her businesses, and she would hold her head up and become the woman she once was, even if Mikey wasn’t by her side.
Bang on nine o’clock, there was a heavy knocking at the front door. She glanced at the monitor to see who was there, but it was a blank screen. The CCTV cameras were either disarmed or Ismail had really let the beautiful house go to rack and ruin. She rose from her chair and headed along the parquet floor to the entrance. ‘Who is it?’ she called out, relieved to hear Shamus reply.
