“Jack, how are you?” she had typed. “Just got back from a trip to Florida. Really loved it and can see plenty of ways to expand our business over there. That’s the good news. The bad news is we don’t want to take it any further with FarScapes. Although you’re a solid company, I think Easy Travel is strong enough to grow bigger and better on its own. I hate to say it, Jack, but my gut feeling is that FarScapes could become a burden that drags us down instead of taking us to the top. It’s the survival of the fittest in business, Jack, as I’m sure you understand. It’s nothing personal. Good luck with your proposals elsewhere. Alex.”
She knew from Layla that Easy Travel was, in fact, relying on the merger with FarScapes for continued success. Joining together would make Alex’s company one of the most formidable in the South East, boosting his already over-inflated ego to unbearable proportions.
What did Layla see in him anyway? He was nothing more than a glorified hustler, and he lied about his age too, she was sure of it. Forty-three? And the rest. Okay, she couldn’t deny he looked after himself. He was gym-trim with a thick head of dark hair and nice, even teeth, but she wouldn’t put it past him to shave a few years off for the sake of the ladies. He lied about everything else, why not that too?
And Layla was so pretty, although she’d deny it every time, annoyingly pointing out all the things that were wrong with her. Things you’d need a magnifying glass to see if you could see them at all. She had long, dark hair that was naturally shot through with gold, huge green eyes, and a figure that stayed slim despite an almost phobic aversion to exercise. She could have any man she wanted, but she always seemed to go for the older ones. Penny supposed Layla had a bit of a thing for father figures, having lost her dad when she was young. She’d be better off with somebody her own age, though, somebody she could have a laugh with. Somebody she wasn’t so bloody in awe of.
Alex had never been right for her from the start. Always eyeing up other women—and never discreetly. And Layla still didn’t know that he’d made a pass at Penny one night when they’d all been out in town. While Layla was at the bar getting a round in, he’d leaned over and suggested they meet, just the two of them, later on that week, to “get to know each other properly.” After nearly biting his head off, Penny had resolved to tell Layla as soon as possible, but every time she tried, she failed. Layla was so over the moon that finally—after years and years of working for him—Alex had noticed her. Penny didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble. She had decided to sit tight instead, knowing he would show his true colors sooner or later, and he had, big time.
“Good book?” she said to Richard at last.
“Hmm.”
Typical, thought Penny. More interested in his book than me.
They had been married for three years now. When they had first tied the knot, after a whirlwind romance, they’d been smitten with each other. It had been perfect, like a fairy tale. At times she had thought she’d burst with love for him. And he felt the same way, she knew it; he couldn’t get enough of her. But now, they were more like strangers than lovers. He spent virtually every waking hour working, and Penny felt bereaved somehow, often having to remind herself she was married at all. No wonder she hadn’t been able to resist Dylan when he came along. She wanted to feel desired again, and he had certainly done that. He fancied her to distraction, telling her over and over again how much she looked like Scarlett Johansson, his favorite actress apparently.
Extremely flattered, as anyone would be she supposed (especially someone feeling severely neglected by their other half), she had at last succumbed to his persistent charms—not fully, of course, just a few kisses and cuddles in the corner of a darkly lit club one night. But enough to feel horrendously guilty about it afterward. Enough to feel she’d have to come clean. Big mistake. Richard had been like a block of ice since. Nearly two months had passed, and there was still no sign of a thaw.
“Layla left work today, just walked out. All because of Alex,” she said in an attempt to kick-start a conversation.
“Really?” he said, one-word replies his specialty of late.
“Yes,” answered Penny, working hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I don’t know what she’s going to do for money. Jobs aren’t exactly easy to come by at the moment.”
“She’ll manage.”
That was an improvement, two words at least.
“How exactly will she manage?” Penny persevered. “I’m worried about her.”
Closing his book shut, a little too pointedly she thought, he said, “It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve got a meeting early in the morning. Good night.”
And with that he placed his book on the bedside table, switched off his light, and turned his back on her.
For the second time that day, Penny was lost for words. She knew he cared about Layla, but such was his determination not to engage in any sort of meaningful conversation since “Dylangate,” he was able to resist asking any more about it.
Looking at the mound beside her, she wanted to scream. Tell him for the hundredth time that her fling with Dylan, if you could call it that, had been a mistake. To drum it into his stubborn head that what had happened, had happened for a reason—because he worked too hard and because she missed him. She worked hard, too—as funds manager for Charity Now!—but not to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. He just worked and worked and worked. She wanted to grab him by the throat, stare manically into his eyes, and yell, Why do you do it? Because you don’t love me anymore? Because you can’t stand being with me? But she didn’t say a word. She knew it would end in tears. Hers.
All she said was “Night,” before turning her own light off and falling into a troubled sleep.
When Richard left for work the next morning, Penny was only vaguely aware. He had slipped from the covers early, like a ghost, silent and fleeting. An hour later, the alarm clock rang, shaking her rudely out of the comfort of sleep. A few seconds passed whilst she collected her thoughts, groaning at the prospect of spending another day at Charity Now! She used to love her job, her enthusiasm for fund-raising unrivaled. Event after event she had tirelessly organized, exceeding target after target, passionate about making life easier for Brighton’s deprived families. Layla had often helped out during her spare time, the pair of them really enjoying themselves and meeting some inspiring people along the way, Dylan being one of them. A bit of a bad boy, he had been in trouble with the law in his youth, but he’d managed to turn his life around since then. He worked for a local charity too. “Atoning for my sins,” he had laughingly told her one night over a couple of drinks as he flicked his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. At twenty-four, he was younger than her by five years, with one hell of a naughty smile. Since their “liaison” and her consequent bust-up with Richard, however, she seemed to have little enthusiasm for anything.
Stop thinking about Dylan, she admonished herself as she flung her legs over the side of the bed and made her way to the bathroom.
Dying to phone Layla, she thought she’d leave it until she was walking to work. If the girl had any sense, which was debatable considering she’d just made herself jobless in the middle of a double-dip recession, she’d be enjoying a lie-in.
Grabbing her coat, Penny walked out the door. It was freezing. An icy cold wind blasted her awake as she headed from her modest Victorian terrace in the trendy Fiveways area to New Britain House, an eyesore of a building close to Brighton Station. It was popular with companies like the one she worked for because the rent was fair. And not without reason, the inside was just as grim as the exterior. Richard worked in plush offices on Queens Road; he had his own magnolia-painted office and a secretary who catered to his every whim. Well, not every whim—Dawn preferred the ladies and very obviously so.
“Hi, you awake?” asked Penny, barely having reached the bottom of her road.
“Yeah, have been most of the night actually,” replied Layla, her voice distinctly groggy.
“Poor you,
you must be feeling rotten. I’ve got to get to work, but I can meet for lunch if you feel up to it.”
“I don’t think I do, actually, Pen, but thanks anyway. I’m just going to stay at home, work out my next move, that sort of thing. Probably ring round a few agencies, see if there’s any temp work going.”
“Good idea. Give yourself the morning off and then get back into the swing of things. Show that idiot you don’t need him or his job.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought. Thanks, though. Speak later, yeah?”
“You bet. I’ll call you on my way home.”
Penny rang off, feelings of concern for her friend growing. Layla was definitely out-of-sorts and not just because of lack of sleep. If heartbreak had a sound, she supposed she’d just heard it. God, she was angry. If Alex were standing in front of her, right here, right now, she would slap him. Honestly, she would. If he didn’t want to continue his relationship with Layla, fine. People break up all the time. But why spend Christmas with her, buy her an expensive gift, and then run off to Florida with another woman? What was that all about? Men were crap sometimes when it came to matters of the heart. They just didn’t understand women at all. Richard certainly didn’t understand her.
Thinking of Richard sent her thoughts spiraling in another direction. Surely he must love her still? He wouldn’t have reacted so badly when she told him about Dylan if he didn’t. And he was hurt, that’s why he could barely bring himself to talk to her. He probably thought she didn’t love him if she needed to kiss and cuddle someone else. Oh, the irony of it! If he kissed and cuddled her more, she wouldn’t need to look elsewhere. She’d be content.
It was Tuesday. He’d be working late again, no doubt. Well, she’d get through the day, then go and surprise him. Grab a large pepperoni pizza with extra chilies from that place on the London Road and a bottle of merlot, take dinner to him. She’d never done that before. It would be fun. He would see she was trying to make an effort, trying to put the whole Dylan episode behind them, and hopefully melt a bit.
Once things were back on a better footing, she would enforce a few ground rules to ensure their relationship never crashed and burned again. No more working after seven p.m., that sort of thing—and certainly not at weekends. The weekends would be their time to spend together, sacred time, spent lingering over breakfast in one of Brighton’s many bustling cafés or leisurely looking around antique shops in nearby Lewes. Just being together, rediscovering each other. He would see sense; she would make him. She had her ways.
Just after six p.m., Penny left her desk, hurried down several flights of stairs, and made her way to Get Your Pizzeria. She then popped into the Eight Till Late a few doors along for the wine before heading up Trafalgar Street to his office.
Dylan might be sexy, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Richard. Richard was tall, just a smidge under six foot, and always impeccably turned out. His black hair, which had been longer when she first met him, was close cropped, and there was never a sign of stubble on his finely chiseled jaw. His favorite shop was Gresham Blake in the North Laines, a fine purveyor of hand-tailored suits, all with a bit of an edge to them. He had about three suits from them, maybe four now, and looked like a male model in all of them. She, on the other hand, liked to slob around in jeans; there was no need to look particularly smart in her job. In fact, her muesli-crunching colleagues would think she was mad if she turned up in a designer number. Still, she knew she scrubbed up well when she had too, channeling that Johansson look with her blond hair piled high, bright red lipstick, a figure-hugging dress, and heels. Richard had always appreciated her efforts at least. Well, Richard and Dylan.
She knew Richard had his reasons for working the hours he did; perhaps she should be more understanding. He didn’t talk a lot about his childhood, and they rarely saw his surviving parent, Bill, who lived in Portsmouth—she’d gleaned early on that he hadn’t come from too comfortable a background. He and his two brothers had often gone without. But he was as bright as a button. He had made it to Sussex University, scored top marks in Law, and was taken on straightaway at solicitors Torrence and Higgins. It would be Torrence, Higgins, and Hughes one day, he had told her, and even the partners had hinted at such. Despite being held in high regard by both bosses, however, he still felt he had a lot to prove, she knew. And she understood, really she did, but he needed to understand something too: that working all possible hours wasn’t exactly doing wonders for their relationship.
Deep in thought, she was taken aback to find herself coming to a standstill outside his office. Excited about seeing him, a smile spread over her face as she pushed open the double glass doors in front of her. Marianne, the receptionist, was just leaving, but stopped long enough to tell her Richard was still in the building and to go on up. Having run up and down the steps of New Britain House all day long, she treated herself to a ride in the lift. He worked on the fourth floor. As the doors slid open, she noticed straightaway that Dawn’s desk was empty. Good, she thought. It looks like everyone’s gone home. We’ve got the place to ourselves.
She could see the door to his office was slightly ajar and made her way to it, treading lightly so as to keep the element of surprise. She stopped short when she heard voices. Damn, we’re not alone, after all. Oh well, the pizza was getting cold; she’d go in anyway. Praying she wasn’t disturbing him in the middle of something important, she was about to knock politely on the door when laughter from within stopped her. Not exactly laughter. No, if she had to describe it, she would say it was giggling. Giggling with a highly flirtatious edge to it.
Her curiosity aroused, she lowered her hand and decided to peer though the crack of the door instead, feeling the need to get a handle on the situation before barging in. And there they were, the pair of them. Richard and some woman she had never seen before. Standing so close, their foreheads were practically touching, her well-manicured hand resting lightly on his arm, both of them giggling.
Richard was the jealous type; Penny was well aware of that. He often told her off for flirting, even when she wasn’t. But she had never considered herself a slave to the green-eyed monster. Not until now. Now it seemed to wake from some slumber deep within her and come crashing to the fore.
“Richard!” she yelled, kicking open the door in fury. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
“Penny,” spluttered Richard, his face coloring straightaway, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You weren’t expecting anyone by the looks of it. You and this—” she struggled for words to describe the startled woman before her “—this…floozy,” she said at last, slightly dismayed she couldn’t come up with a more lurid description.
“I’d better be going,” said the woman, who actually looked quite annoyed she’d been called a floozy. “Let you deal with this mad woman.”
“Mad woman? Me? Damn right I am!” Penny was sure her own face was as red as Richard’s by now, but not with embarrassment, with anger. “And keep your hands off my husband in future. He’s out of bounds.”
As the woman sidled nervously past her, Penny had to resist the urge to hit her over the head with the pizza box. She could just imagine it: tomato, pepperoni, and extra chilies flying everywhere.
The split second the woman had left, Penny slammed the door and turned to do battle. Instead of squaring up to her, ready to put forward his case as was his line of expertise, she was surprised to find Richard slumped in his chair, head in hands.
“Oh, God!” he was saying. “I don’t believe it.”
It was the same sentiment she had uttered yesterday, when Layla broke the news to her that she had quit her job. That Richard was now saying it, and this time to her, served only to inflame her more.
“I don’t bloody believe it either,” she screamed at him. “You’re a hypocrite, you are. Putting me through hell because of Dylan whilst you’re busy having an affair with some old bag at work.”
“I am not having an affair,” Richard countered, anger a
t last pushing him to his feet. “And that ‘old bag’ happens to be Diane Tyrrell, a very important client of ours. Your behavior just now probably cost me any hope of a partnership.”
“My behavior just now was perfectly justified,” Penny continued, undaunted. “Whoever the hell that woman is, you were flirting with her. Not only were you standing so close you were practically morphing into each other, she had her hand on your arm.”
“Oh, right, and her hand on my arm means I’m having an affair, does it?” he replied, every word dripping with sarcasm. “Think about it, Penny. It’s hardly on a par with kissing and groping someone in a nightclub, is it?”
“There was no groping involved,” Penny slammed back, indignant.
“Maybe not, but a fair bit of tonsil tennis. I think that’s bad enough.”
“At least I told you about it. I didn’t keep it secret.”
“Yeah, thanks for that, Pen. Did me the world of good, hearing every last detail,” replied Richard, his voice still scathing. “Here I am, working like a dog, trying to raise our standard of living, and all you can do is whine that you’re lonely and then snog someone else.”
“I do not whine!” Penny was furious at the insinuation. “And believe me, Richard Hughes, I’m capable of a whole lot more than snogging.”
As soon as it was out, she knew she’d said the wrong thing, had pushed him too far. His face was filled with rage.
She tried to claw back a bit of ground. “Richard, I didn’t mean that. I’m angry, that’s all. I’d never be unfaithful. I mean, not properly unfaithful.” But it was no use. He walked menacingly toward her and then straight past her without uttering another word.
“Richard!” she yelled after him, but he was gone, the ting of the lift confirming his departure.
Sinking down in his plush office chair, she mirrored his head-in-hands pose, the pizza box and the merlot pushed aside, forgotten. What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing? To goad him like that? Considering the circumstances, it was not a clever move.
The Runaway Year Page 2
