Crystal blinked hard, and gave him a playful thump on the arm, ignoring the gibe at her clothes. She just didn’t have the emotional energy to explain what was behind the irrational desire to leave her past behind her, including all of her new clothes, and to return home wearing only those items that she had taken with her to London all those years ago. He was a male with a man’s outlook, even if he was her twin, he’d never understand her motives anyhow. She parried the comment. “You won’t be saying that for long, just you wait till I’m under your feet and causing trouble, eh?”
Her brother smiled, and gunned the engine.“So, how was ‘the big smoke?” he asked.
Later in the day, wearing the same heels and an old, faded pair of Levi’s from her college days, only just decent and washed soft with age, Crystal cycled precariously up the long winding track to the factory. The bike was ancient, the brakes not too effective and the gears completely absent, so she travelled at a sedate pace, taking in the sights and smells of the countryside, her hair flowing free in the breeze, streaming out in a ribbon behind her as the gusting wind caught it and tossed it around. There was no one to recognise her here, no one who cared where she worked or what she did for a living, it was liberating, she felt free from reality and able to conquer the world. Free to start again. It was ages since she’d appreciated the dark brown of the fields where the tractor had turned the earth, waiting now for the first shoots of spring. The sun had come out in full force, and was attempting to mop up the drenched landscape, allowing that clean, fresh smell of living things to waft over her jaded senses. She’d lived for too long in the dirt and smog of the city, and had forgotten just how truly beautiful a bright winter day could be.
All too soon, she reached the back door of the factory and propped her bike up against the steps, just like when she’d been a child and had first rode up the hill from their house in the village to bring her dad his sandwiches for lunch. Her brothers had been away at school by then, and she’d had his attention all to herself during term time, those were special years. The rusty iron frame for the milk bottles was still there, just as she remembered it, a little more decrepit than before, but all in one piece, and the hook in the wall where she used to tether the lead for whichever dog she had brought with her. The animals had never been allowed in the workshops, it was too dangerous, but they always enjoyed the exercise and invariably she’d brought one or other along for the ride.
Today it was late, and the factory staff would have already gone home, they knocked off early on Fridays, but gran had insisted that her brothers would still be working, so she tiptoed on inside. As she walked around the closed up offices she could hear raised voices from the boardroom.
“It’s no bloody good like that, then, is it?” yelled Mark, as he slammed the thick black marker down on the desk in frustration.
“I never said it was,” yelled back her twin, underlying temper evident in his tone.
There was a few seconds gap, and then, “So, what are we going to do about it then?” Mark asked, in a more conciliatory tone, he’d always been the mediator.
“Damned if I know,” came the deflated response. “I’ve got a date in just over two hours. A hot date. She’s desperate for my body.”He lowered his voice, “Do you know, the other night, we were in bed and…”
Crystal pushed open the door hurriedly, making as much noise as possible, locker room talk needed to stay between the two men.“Fighting again you two?” she asked as she breezed into the room, dumping her bright gold tote bag down in a slack heap on the highly polished surface of the boardroom table.
Mark glanced up from the other end of the long antique table which had adorned the room for the past half century at least, and gave Jeremy a very po-faced look. “Hi, sis, good to see you home. Jez said he’d picked you up.”He looked at her properly, for the first time. “You’ve lost weight, and whatever have you done with your hair, my god, you look a fright, don’t tell me you cycled up here in that get-up, do you actually own a mirror? I don’t know how you walk in those things.”He stared down at her feet, dumbfounded. He crinkled his brow, his blue eyes clear and bright, and so very much like her father’s. “Aren’t you supposed to be staying with gran?”
Crystal crinkled up her nose and smoothed down the faded blue denim, moulded now to the shape of her thighs, sassy and sleek; nice fit. Brothers, honestly, they had no idea. “Hi, Mark. And I love you too.”She held up her hand and ticked off on her fingers, “One, I’m all grown up, no more mouse brown locks for me, two I flew in from LA yesterday and got mobbed at the office and had to make a dash for it, so I’m in disguise, and three, yes I am staying with gran, she sent me up here to see you two. The Hunt Ball, Cousin Lolly is arranging it? The weekend after next? Ring any bells with you two?”
Mark groaned. Jeremy stuck his fingers down his throat and imitated retching noises. “Do we have to go?” they chorused in unison.
“Gran says so, and I dare you both to argue with her when she’s feeling ill.”
“She’s already told everyone that we will be there anyway,” Mark replied. Ruth is refusing to attend after last year’s debacle, so I’ve got to go on my own.”
“Me too, I’ve only been going out with Verity for a couple of weeks, I’m not subjecting her to our family en-masse if I have anything to do with it.”
“Exactly, just as I thought. So, I have been tasked with selecting some fancy dress costumes at the hire shop tomorrow morning. They should have been ordered weeks ago. What do you want to be, Mark? ‘Captain Hook’, a zombie, an ape?”
The marker pen flew across the room and narrowly missed her ear. Mark started laughing, it was a rich melodious sound, and suited him well. It was highly preferable to the dour, grown up executive look he’d been wearing when she’d first entered the room.
“I thought we had all agreed not to mention that one again?” demanded Jeremy, unrepentant.“Take that back, right now. I don’t know that I trust you to be in charge of costumes, I haven’t forgotten your last efforts before you disappeared off to the States.”
“It wasn’t all Tatty’s fault, Jez,” Mark replied, still chuckling. “The costume shop didn’t actually specify ‘has large, pink, plastic baboon’s bottom for effect’, now did it, and you couldn’t see it until you unwrapped the packet, as you well know!”
Jeremy frowned. “No, I suppose not, but my date wasn’t impressed, I can tell you, and the guys from the Rugby Club have never let me live it down. I have been the butt of their jokes ever since. It’s getting tiresome, being called ‘King Louis’ they have the whole ‘king of the swingers’ routine off pat now, even my beer mat has ‘jungle VIP’ written on it, and they will launch into it at the drop of a hat, usually in the bar after a match, at very high volume. I’m fed up explaining myself to every girl I meet, Verity thought it was all very childish.”
“Well, she would, she has no sense of humour, I don’t know what you see in her, apart from the obvious of course. I don’t know what you’re moaning about, I got the ‘Robin Hood’ costume, complete with green tights and a quiver full of arrows. I spent half of the party up the apple tree trying to retrieve them all once you got your hands on them.”
Jeremy laughed. “Do you remember the one that landed in the punch bowl just as that hideous cousin Araminta was filling her glass?”
“We did her a favour, I thought. How a short, twelve stone teenager could dress up as a fairy, in that tiny leotard is beyond me. She looked much better without the wings and the tiara, anyway. It was a good night, the last really good party that we had.”
“I don’t know about last year’s party, as I wasn’t here, but I’m not surprised Minty threw you into the pool when she did catch up with you, if that’s what you said to her. The past two years have certainly flown past, she’s at Uni now, did you know? Studying Economics, so gran says. Now, take this seriously. What do you want to be this year? Or shall I just use my imagination?”
Mark and Jeremy exchanged glances
. “Nothing stupid, OK?”
“Would I?”
It was several hours later, that Crystal finally looked up from the computer screen and rubbed wearily at her stiff neck. It was dark outside, and there were no lights on the bike, she’d have to walk back home and push it now, it would take ages and her shoes wouldn’t cope with the pot-holed lane very well at all. She’d have to buy some trainers or some wellies if she was going to stay around these parts, she supposed. Nice pink Hunters, to tuck her jeans in, and one of those Barbour jackets, her old waxed one had gone to the charity shop long ago. She was starved, she wondered how she’d let them talk her into this situation, the job should have been finished hours ago.
OK, when she had offered to help, they hadn’t known that the spreadsheet data was corrupted. It was just as well that she had checked the figures for a second time before e-mailing them off, otherwise the whole sales campaign would have been skewed, and both of her brothers would have been fired for sure.
Concentrating on the numbers had given her a temporary respite from the endless questions tumbling around in her brain, night and day. The unanswered litany of small inconsequential facts, which, when assembled together led her to the one question which she’d been unable to answer, the one thing that had plagued her, in all of the endless hours since that final gut-wrenching confrontation. Just why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t she noticed Phil’s duplicity sooner? The questions were her constant companion, they stalked her every waking hour.
Her stomach growled, and she reached for the phone, she’d better ring Norma and tell her she’d be home in half an hour, it must be nearly dinner time.
Grasping the telephone receiver she began to dial, only to replace the receiver and try again. The line was dead. She’d left her mobile in the bag that she had hastily unpacked at gran’s, surely there was a phone that worked around here, somewhere. This line came in through the switchboard, had they disconnected it for the weekend, or put it on silent? That didn’t make much sense. She wandered slowly along the corridor, past the photocopying machine in the large open hallway, back towards the reception desk.
Wow, this place had been spruced up a bit, not like when her dad had been in charge. The drab old grey ‘industrial’ carpet had been replaced with bleached wood flooring and bright royal blue carpet tiles, laid in a discreet chessboard effect. The extensive reception area looked practical and attractive, a more efficient and professional showcase for the rest of the factory now. There was also a brand new vending machine in the corner of the room, nestling beside an enormous potted palm and a stack of glossy promotional leaflets, she helped herself to a coffee, the heating had gone off a few hours ago and the offices were cooling down rapidly.
Strolling back through the corridors, towards the boardroom, noting the changes since she’d last been here and sipping at her drink, she stopped outside the boss’ office. Her dad had always had an additional external phone line in there, maybe she could dial out on that one if it was still working. He’d never know, if she sneaked in and made a quick call. She rummaged in her pocket for the bunch of keys Jeremy had thrown at her as they’d departed, was there one on this ring? She found the key with relative ease, and slipped inside the office. The first thing she noticed as she opened the door, was a faint trace of male cologne, just a whisper, and then it was gone. Nice. She flicked on the desk light, the same one that her father had used, and then stared around in confusion. The desk was the same, and so was the heavy panelling and the bookshelves, but the rest of the room had been transformed.
The dark, drab velvet curtains had been replaced, along with the sombre flooring and wallpaper, and in their place, more of the bleached wood and some discreet pale linen blinds and colour washed walls. The room blended the old with the new effortlessly, boasting a bank of modern computer screens and high tech hardware, alongside the heavily framed traditional artwork and antique furniture. It was now a calm and functional place to work, without the oppressive seriousness which had dominated the space in her dad’s day.
She stepped into the room, heel tips tapping on the high sheen of the floor as she headed for the telephone, perched precariously on the end of the desk, on top of a large pile of files. As she passed the high backed leather chair and slipped in behind the desk, her eyes fixed on the silver letter opener, cast aside on the smooth glossy surface, and she picked it up curiously, her fingers tracing the distinctive embossed crest on the handle. She’d given this to her father for his birthday several years ago now, she’d purchased it at an auction house in New York with one of her very first pay cheques, strange that he hadn’t taken it with him when he left. It had always been kept in the heavy walnut box that housed his cigars, it hadn’t ever been used to her knowledge, odd to see it just discarded there, on the desk like that. Without thought, she moved to the top left-hand drawer of the desk, looking for the cigar box, giving the heavy brass handle a hefty tug, it always stuck and dad had never had it fixed.
The drawer shot forwards on well-oiled runners and catapulted the contents out all over the floor, paperclips, staples, pens and business cards rained out and spilled all over the floor in waves, strewn in all directions.
Crystal gave a dismayed howl, and fell to her knees in panic, what a mess. As she began frantically scrabbling on the floor trying to round up the tiny bits and bobs she glanced back over her shoulder in fright. What if the new boss was to walk in through that door right now, what would he think? A serious Harvard educated man, who drove a sleek expensive beast of a car like that? He terrified the life out of Jeremy, though he’d never admit it. Mark was a different kettle of fish. He’d always been the born leader, he was standing up quite well under the pressure, or so gran thought. She’d hinted that he was doing well, when they had stopped for a chat and a small bite of lunch together, earlier.
As she rummaged about, grasping indiscriminately at the stationery, she suddenly stopped, horrified. Her wildly groping fingers had settled around a small, luridly patterned and very distinctive box. Rocking back on her heels, she stared at the packaging; surely not? The box was unopened, and she turned it over, strangely fascinated by her discovery, unable to put it down. Strawberry flavour condoms, the mind boggled. How gross. Held like that in the palm of her hand, the package burned a hole where it touched. She squinted at the gaily patterned wrapper twice, just to make sure, and then, as the implications struck home, she rapidly stashed it back in the drawer beside the sticky notes and the business cards. What man kept such things in his desk drawer? From the reports in the papers and the accompanying grainy photos of the man, she wasn’t that surprised to find evidence of his appetites, but to come across them in the office, couldn’t the man wait till he got home?
She realised that Norma would be very disappointed in her behaviour, as she shoved the remainder of the paperclips and drawing pins back, haphazardly, any old fashion. She wished she’d left well alone now, but perhaps she’d got away with it, just this once, no harm done.
All the stuff was back in the drawer, though not necessarily where it had started, and her prime concern was to remove herself from the room as quickly as possible. She’d leave the phone call for now. If she left the bike here overnight, she wouldn’t have to push it and she’d get home much more quickly anyhow, why hadn’t she thought of that earlier, before she had got herself into this mess?
As she carefully closed the office door and made sure that the barrel clicked over twice, she noticed the photocopier standing just a few feet away in the corridor.
The tiniest germ of an idea popped into her head. What made her think of it, she couldn’t imagine, maybe it was the near hysteria of being caught red-handed in the boss’s office, or maybe it was just being left alone in a large dark building, but the thought reverberated around her brain, and she just couldn’t shift it, it was a brilliant trick. She peeked nervously along the corridor, would she dare? No Crystal, be sensible, please. She walked a few feet in the opposite direction, along the p
assageway to the tiny kitchen area, and threw her empty paper cup into the bin, decisively.
As she turned again and looked back along the hallway, the machine just stood there, in the darkness, winking at her, red light flashing. She hesitated, just for a moment, and wondered how she would go about it, if she did decide to do it. Another moment passed, and she glanced along the corridor again, just to make sure. There was obviously no one else around, and it would only take a moment, no harm would be done, no one would ever know. Temptation won, it would be a real hoot and her brother would hit the stratosphere, it was just too good an opportunity to miss, she sidled up to the copier, hand already reaching for her belt.
As she levered herself into shot, concentrating hard and taking care not to expose too much flesh in the wrong places, reaching backwards for the ‘start’ button, a deep voice drawled from the other end of the darkened corridor “Not the usual activity for a cat burglar, I would have thought?”
Galvanised into action, and rigid with horror, unable to stop the inevitable, her hand came crashing down on the green ‘copy’ button as if in slow motion. The light from the flash lit up the corridor, as the laser passed smoothly under the glass top and returned back again, firing up the mechanism inside the case. Perched as she was, on one cheek, she was unable to regain her balance and as she squirmed to right herself, the sound of steps moving nearer, panicked her into urgent action. It was only a split second, between her agitated wriggling, and the movement that caused her to topple forwards, to land flat on her face, jeans around her knees and bare bottom sticking up, in the middle of the corridor, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.
The Party Girl's Invitation Page 2
