Fear

by Nina Manning

  ‘Yes, good old Alan,’ I said, aware of my own voice, which sounded a little shaky.

  ‘How are you settling in, Frankie?’ Mason swiftly pulled up a chair from the desk opposite me and sat down, confidently crossing one silver trouser leg over the other.

  I paused for a heartbeat as Mason sat watching me and waiting. I felt my heartrate go up and sweat began to prickle under my arms. What did he see when he looked at me? I was able to hold it together enough in the interview to impress him, but could I keep getting through each day without breaking? I was struggling to cope with things and felt regret at opening the bottle of prosecco with Nancy after we had finished the champagne.

  ‘I…’ I suddenly lost my train of thought and struggled to unscramble my brain enough to speak a coherent sentence. ‘There’s a lot to learn.’

  Mason smiled. He was so damn sure of himself. I was usually able to cover up my raging insecurities but somehow it was as though he were looking into my soul and I didn’t have the power to stop him.

  ‘Well,’ he said after a pause, ‘It will take you a few weeks to settle. But take it at your own pace. I’m here for you, Frankie, I can completely hold your hand through these first weeks.’

  I felt my cheeks flush at the thought of Mason’s hand on mine and I took a long sip of coffee to hide my face.

  ‘I mean, everyone here is pretty helpful, have you found?’ Mason tilted his head to one side.

  ‘Oh yeah, yeah, absolutely. Penelope, she couldn’t have been more helpful, I mean that girl knows her stuff.’

  ‘I struck gold when I found her. I have a knack for sourcing the gems though.’ Mason smiled. ‘Listen, I’ll let you get on and find your feet this week and maybe we can have a bit of a meeting on Friday to discuss this new hot sauce I want to start on. We need a really good name for it and a launch date.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said.

  Mason stood to leave.

  ‘This is going to be great, Frankie. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you.’ He gave me a dazzling smile, showing me his perfectly white teeth, and he turned to walk away. I grabbed my coffee for protection and held it against my chest.

  ‘Friday!’ Mason turned as he was walking and pointed his finger at me.

  ‘Friday,’ I said with a salute.

  The first week flew by in a flash and suddenly Friday arrived. There was a buzz in the office as everyone was getting geared up for the weekend. I would hear snippets of conversations and I thought about the stark weekend I had ahead.

  So I immersed myself in the sounds of everyone else’s plans and imagined myself in a world where Damian and I would come together on Sunday for a big lunch out somewhere with a forest walk, both the kids would behave and Damian and I would hold hands and argue over which Netflix series we were watching that night.

  ‘Penny for ’em?’ came the cheeky voice of Fish. I had felt Lil’s looks all week as her boyfriend fluttered around the new girl.

  I looked up from my screen and smiled at Fish.

  ‘You ready for the weekend?’ I asked him so I could swiftly swing the focus back on to him.

  ‘Always,’ he announced in the trademark overconfident manner that he adopted for almost all interactions from accepting a cup of coffee to conversations with clients on the phone. ‘You coming for drinks in the Chambers?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said, feigning enthusiasm. Really, I wanted to go home, have a long bath, drink a bottle of wine and go to bed. The thought of being in that pub again after so many years was causing a dull ache in my stomach. But I had to make the effort, to mix a little of my personal self with the professional. I knew that was how I would win affection and respect. But I also knew where to draw the line.

  ‘You’ll need a drink, meeting with the big boss today isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I said casually as though I hadn’t been thinking about it every second since Tuesday.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I know,’ I said a little too curtly.

  ‘Coffee?’ Fish was oblivious to the stress in my tone.

  ‘I just had one. I’m a wreck if I have more than one in the morning.’

  ‘Save the acting like a wreck act for tonight. I bet you’re a bloody brilliant drunk.’ His enthusiasm for life was admirable.

  I laughed. ‘Yeah.’

  Although I wished more than anything that were true.

  I’d arranged my meeting with Mason for 3 p.m., meaning as soon as we were done the office would be closed and I could head straight to the pub. I had texted Damian, told him I was doing the obligatory after drinks at the end of my first week, so he should feed himself and the kids. I thought about adding, ‘I won’t be late,’ but I wasn’t one for making false promises. I wasn’t overly keen on drinking with complete strangers, let alone thrusting myself back into my past by heading to the place I drank as a teenager, but I knew after one drink I would be pretty relaxed.

  Damian texted:

  Remember you have that thing with Pixie in the morning

  I resisted the urge to text back a smart-arse reply, but all I could think about was how he referred to it as ‘that thing’. Pixie had her trial dance class tomorrow. But the fact was I could manage most things on a hangover. I was used to it; I had been doing it for long enough.

  Mason’s office was cooler than the main office and this time I was thankful for the change in temperature as I felt the nerves take hold of me. I had been subtly prepping all week, a few stolen moments throughout the day and each night after work, cradling a glass of wine.

  I stood in front of Mason, my laptop grasped awkwardly under one arm.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  ‘So…’

  ‘I…’

  We both laughed.

  ‘You go first,’ Mason gestured with his hand.

  ‘I… I was only going to say, you know, thanks and everything, for this opportunity.’ I shifted the weight from one foot to another.

  ‘You’re welcome, I want you to feel you can grow here.’ Mason pulled out a chair. ‘Please, do sit.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I slid into the seat and placed my laptop on the table. Mason took the seat right next to me. I turned to him and smiled. He smiled warmly back. Then he rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Shall we get cracking? I don’t want to keep you on a Friday. I appreciate you coming up with these thoughts this early on.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Great.’

  He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘So, what have you got for me? I’m intrigued.’

  Fifteen minutes later I closed the laptop and Mason sat shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘It’s brilliant, Frankie, I can’t believe you put so much work into it.’

  I flashed a smile and breathed out a sigh of relief. My mind was now firmly on having a drink at the bar.

  ‘Well done. It’s like you went into my mind and read all my thoughts.’

  Mason left the words hanging between us and I couldn’t speak for a moment. I fiddled with my wedding ring, twisting it back to the centre of my finger.

  ‘I can see a real passion for food in that presentation, do you like to eat out a lot?’ Mason turned his chair inwards, so he was now facing me.

  I found myself another hour later still talking with Mason about our past jobs, countries we’d travelled to. Our favourite foods and flavour combinations. He hadn’t pushed for any more information on my brother, which I was thankful for. I had never spoken properly about that night to anyone. Not even Damian.

  I was vaguely aware of the staff slowly filtering out of the building past the large windows of Mason’s office suite, but I was engrossed in conversation with this man whose brain I was slowly beginning to love.

  ‘You know, it is officially knock off time,’ Mason said and gestured with his eyes towards a small fridge with a glass door. ‘I’m going to have a small one, if you fancy one before you head off? I presume you’re joining the others at the
pub?’

  ‘Well, yes, I thought I needed to show them how it was done, you know, as it’s my first week and all,’ I said, laughing. The presentation was behind me and I could now relax.

  Mason laughed. ‘Right, in that case, you’d better have something to get you ahead.’

  Mason walked over to the fridge and opened a bottle of prosecco. He poured two glasses and brought them to the table. It was chilled and the first glass went down so quickly I barely noticed that he had topped my glass up a second time.

  When I next picked it up, I was shocked to find it empty.

  ‘Ahh, and there I was trying to be so refined.’

  ‘It’s okay, Frankie. You’ve had a successful first week. You should be proud.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Well, anyway, I should get going.’ I didn’t want Mason to see beneath the veneer, to find that so many years of guilt and grief had seeped into my DNA so that I was barely the person I once was. I felt as though everything about me now was merely a projection of who I wanted to be.

  I looked down at my phone. Everyone would have left the office by now. I went to stand and instantly wobbled. I realised I hadn’t eaten anything for lunch as I was so nervous about the presentation. Mason was on his feet in an instant and grabbed my elbow.

  ‘Whoa there. Okay?’ he asked, leaning his face towards mine.

  I laughed it off. ‘Yes, yes, just sat down for too long. I’m probably due a snack or something.’

  ‘Yes, got to keep those blood sugar levels steady.’ Mason let go of my elbow and pushed his hands into his pockets.

  I picked up the laptop.

  ‘I should get going then, let you get off. Any plans for the weekend?’ I asked as I swung my handbag over my shoulder.

  ‘I have a few engagements, nothing spectacular.’ He shrugged.

  I contemplated Mason’s bachelor lifestyle for a moment. I imagined him with a faceless woman on a Saturday night, an arrangement that was ‘convenient’ for both of them. He didn’t ask anything about my plans or home life.

  ‘Enjoy drinks with the gang. Say “hello” for me.’

  ‘I will, and thanks.’ I wanted to add, ‘for putting the money behind the bar,’ but I guessed someone like Mason wouldn’t want me drawing attention to such generosity.

  I headed to the door with my laptop under my arm.

  ‘Thanks, Frankie. Well done this week. I have really good feelings about this.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I lifted my hand in a small wave. ‘Have a good weekend.’

  I stole a glance back at him as I walked out of the door. Mason was stood with one hand in his pocket, his other was rubbing the stubble on the side of his face. He appeared lost, as though he wasn’t ready for me to leave.

  I cautiously strode into the bar at 4.30. Lil, Fish, Stella and even Penelope, were all huddled around a large round table. A few of the other staff were there too but I was yet to get fully acquainted with them.

  Fish and Lil let out a loud roar as I walked in.

  ‘Here she is,’ Fish said in his loud confident voice.

  I waved at them all and headed to the bar. I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The place had changed a lot since I had last come in, which was almost twenty years ago. They had refurbished it to a really high standard with tanned leather sofas, an extensive dining area and barrel chairs in deep shades of green positioned next to coffee tables and well-stacked bookcases.

  I swung a look to my right and saw that the pool table was still there. I could tell it wasn’t the original but still, for a second, I saw us all huddled around it, lining our coins up on the edge of the table and waiting for our turn.

  ‘Long meeting with the boss,’ Stella appeared at my side and startled me.

  ‘Oh, hi.’ I swung round to my left. ‘Yes, we just ended up chatting about the new product, didn’t realise the time.’ I didn’t know why I felt the need to justify my lateness, but I did anyway. ‘That lot half cut already?’ I motioned to Lil and Fish.

  ‘Getting there. What’s your poison?’

  ‘Do you think they know how to mix a Negroni?’

  ‘Nice.’ Stella pulled an impressed expression. ‘You can always ask.’

  The barman appeared; a fresh-faced lad of about twenty with zero stubble and blonde hair slicked to one side. I gave him my order. He had a word with an older guy who was obviously the manager, then returned with the information he needed to make the drink.

  A few minutes later I squeezed into a chair next to Lil, who had an arm draped theatrically over Fish.

  Penelope sat quietly in her chair sipping a pint of lager. I smiled and she nodded back and continued sipping slowly whilst staring into the distance. She looked almost childlike cradling such a large drink.

  ‘You made it then, Keegan!’ Fish called across the table. ‘Boss let you go, did he?’

  Fish had taken to calling me by my surname, which made me feel like an inmate.

  ‘Yep, it was tricky but he finally dragged himself away from me.’ Joining in with the banter was easier with Fish. I found him mildly endearing.

  ‘Oh, yeah, I getcha!’ Fish laughed a deep loud laugh and turned back to Lil. I caught Lil’s gaze and I was sure I saw her narrow her eyes. I took a swift drink. It had been a long week.

  ‘Well done for a first week at work,’ Stella said loudly over the noise.

  ‘Yes, you did really well, Frankie. It’s a lot to pick up. Well done.’ Penelope continued to stare into the distance. I watched her with interest.

  ‘She’s fucking weird,’ Stella said out of the side of her mouth and I noticed for the first time she had a slightly soft Irish accent. I shot a glance over at Penelope, who hadn’t heard what Stella said.

  ‘You’re Irish,’ I said.

  ‘Only when I have a drink.’ She laughed.

  ‘Right. A woman of many sides.’ I said.

  Stella raised her eyes at me. ‘As if there’s one side to you,’ she scoffed.

  I tensed up. How the hell could she see. I was trying to keep everything in and yet here was this complete stranger who appeared to have sussed me right out.

  I finished my Negroni in a couple of gulps. I began to relax after that and began receiving drink after drink from Fish, Lil and Stella until we had finished up Mason’s weekly gift. Then we all opened our wallets and purses and then, well, I didn’t remember much after that.

  1 December 1998

  Grief counselling. The very words cut through me. Why the hell was I having grief counselling? I shouldn’t be grieving for anyone. I’m not married, I don’t have any kids, my parents are still alive. I’ve been encouraged to keep writing in these books, to write this stupid bloody diary, to get all my feelings out onto paper. Then I can keep them or burn them. That’s what Sharon said. She’s the ‘grief counsellor’. I wanted her to be a complete arsehole so I could walk the hell out of that poky little room with magnolia walls and an overwhelming scent of pine pumping from a plugin air freshener. But Sharon is a small petite blonde lady with a soft calming voice. She wore a rusty orange coloured roll neck jumper. I wanted to hate her, so that I could leave after the first session and never come back, but I found myself watching her and taking her in. I liked her jeans and knee high brown boots and I imagined how I would like to copy the style and reinvent myself. I never really knew how to dress. Fashion was never my thing. I like to check other people out and see if I can emulate their style.

  I barely spoke in the session. My mind was on so many other things.

  Everyone is scared and timid when they approach me, like I might break if they say anything about you or how I am feeling. Then Sharon quietly asked something I had never heard from anyone before.

  She looked at me and asked: how am I going to celebrate my love for you?

  It’s only then that I broke down.

  Because you were my lifeblood and I couldn’t go on without you. It was as simple as that. Now you’re gone, I realise I loved you more than I loved myself.
/>
  11

  Now

  I opened one eye, but the pain seared through my skull like a knife. My eyesight was hazy. I could barely see. Then the panic set in. I was not in my house. It had happened again. As if things weren’t bad enough between me and Damian, I had slept in a stranger’s house. I couldn’t remember how I got home, or how much I had to drink. I had a vague image in my head of being thrown around in the back of a taxi. I tried to sit up so I could get some perspective on my surroundings.

  A small voice broke through my manic thoughts. I looked up and saw Pixie.

  I said a million prayers of thanks to the universe in the space of three seconds. I was at home and in my bed.

  ‘Darling,’ I croaked as she threw herself on to the bed next to me. I pulled myself to sitting.

  I didn’t know how I got in a taxi, how much it cost or how I got through the front door. I looked down under the covers. I was still fully dressed.

  ‘Mummy, you went to bed with your clothes on!’ Pixie looked highly amused as she tried to pull back the covers to get a better look.

  ‘Yes, darling, I was so tired last night after work I fell straight to sleep.’

  I heard a loud snort coming from our en suite and I could just picture Damian’s face.

  ‘You worked very late,’ she said with a hint of interest.

  I looked at the clock next to my bed, which read 8.06 a.m.. Still over an hour to go until Pixie needed to be at her dance class.

  I heard my phone beep a text message and I looked around the room until I spotted it on the floor.

  ‘Pixie, be a doll and grab Mummy’s phone.’ Pixie obediently jumped off the bed and retrieved it from the floor. She handed it to me then planted a huge kiss on my head, complete with sound effects. I felt like the worst mother. I wanted to just grab Pixie and wrap her into the bed clothes with me and stay there all day.