by CJ Morrow
‘I’ll cope,’ she said, secretly wishing she didn’t have to. She also wondered what Will thought the status of their relationship was? He could have asked any of his mates to pick him up. He could have got a taxi.
‘When’s your one-to-one?’ Damon asked.
‘What one-to-one?’
‘With the man?’ Damon did a super cheesy grin.
‘Oh, I haven’t heard, yet.’
‘Mine’s eleven am, tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh? Right. But you’ve already met him.’
‘Everyone’s having an individual meeting with him.’ He dropped his voice and leaned in. ‘The whole damn department. Totally unnecessary. The Europeans are damn near shitting themselves.’
Lily glanced over at Urve and Beata, heads down as usual. She gave Beata a reassuring smile when she glanced up with an anxious look on her face.
Back at her desk Lily saw her own meeting request with Montgomery-Jones in her inbox. It was Tuesday morning, at nine-thirty. Lily didn’t accept the appointment but went round to discuss rescheduling with Veronica.
Without lifting her hands from her keyboard, Veronica looked over her glasses at Lily. The smile she gave was brief and only served to prove she could smile – if necessary.
‘Veronica, hi,’ Lily said, feeling like a silly kid – which was the affect Veronica had on everyone. Her age was a closely guarded secret but she’d been with Bensons for over thirty years. Lily couldn’t help wondering how she would have handled this scary woman if she had become finance director.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve just received my one-to-one appointment with Cyril.’
‘That’s correct, I’ve just sent it.’ Veronica’s eyes strayed back to her computer screen.
‘I was wondering if I could change it?’
Now Veronica had the perfect excuse to give her attention to her computer. Her eyes flickered as she scanned through Cyril’s diary.
‘Not really,’ she said, without looking at Lily. ‘He’s fully booked.’
‘Oh, but. It’s just the time you’ve given me is a bit awkward.’
‘Really? Why?’
Picking up her boyfriend, or more correctly ex-boyfriend, from the airport was hardly a valid reason. ‘It clashes with an appointment.’
Veronica turned her full gaze on Lily. ‘According to your diary there are no clashing appointments.’ She turned back to her computer and started typing. Evidently the conversation was over.
‘Well, I hadn’t put it in yet. Can I have a different time? Please.’
Veronica sighed. ‘Not this week. He has no gaps.’ She leaned towards Lily and gave her another brief smile. ‘Listen, Lily. A word to the wise. You haven’t met him yet, everyone else has. You’re already behind schedule because you were on holiday. Rearrange your other appointment.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘Then perhaps one of your colleagues will exchange appointments with you. I suggest you ask around.’ This time the conversation was definitely over as Veronica began furiously attacking her keyboard.
The one-to-one was for ninety minutes which meant that Damon was straight in after Lily.
‘Damon.’ Lily sidled up to his desk. ‘Would you mind swapping one-to-one times with me tomorrow?’
‘Sure, hun,’ Damon said, hardly looking up from his work. ‘What time’s yours?’
‘Nine-thirty.’
‘Ah. Sorry. No can do. Can’t you speak to Scare-a-Von?’
‘I already have. She says I can’t change it, I have to swap with someone instead. Why can’t you change? You’ll be here.’
‘Yes, but I have do to this plan/report thing for him, and frankly I’m struggling even with an eleven am appointment. Really sorry, I really am. But we’re all under pressure and scrutiny here.’
‘Yeah. I guess. Do you think Urve or Beata might swap?’
‘No. Don’t ask. Don’t put them on the spot. They go in together immediately after me and like I said earlier, they’re shitting themselves. They can’t go before me because this plan is partly about their jobs. So no. Try someone else. Sorry, hun.’ Damon’s sympathy was genuine but useless.
‘Okay, I’ll ask around.’
An hour later and Lily had been around the whole department – ten people – and the only person willing to swap had an eight am appointment. Eight am – who the hell wanted a one-to-one at that time? No wonder they had been happy to exchange.
She was stuck with nine-thirty.
Lily did a quick calculation, if Will’s plane landed at one, they should be out of the airport and on their way home by two. She could comfortably be back in her own bed and asleep by three-thirty. That meant four hours’ sleep. It was going to be just fine.
At eight pm Lily set the alarm for eleven-thirty. That would give her enough time to pull on her clothes and have a quick coffee before setting off. She snuggled down into her bed and closed her eyes. But even with the curtains drawn daylight sneaked in. She wasn’t even tired; normally she went to bed at the time she was due to get up. She tossed and turned before eventually sitting up and flicking through a magazine. A full page article stared up at her – ‘Is your body bikini ready?’ The body of the girl in the accompanying picture was definitely bikini ready. She posed in skimpy red, her skin smooth and buffed; behind her a beach and surf shack. Lily felt her heartstrings tug. She wondered where Jackson was now, wondered how he was getting on with his family obligations – whatever they were.
It was dark before she fell asleep and it seemed just as she closed her eyes the alarm went off. She dressed in jeans and t-shirt, went downstairs, made herself a coffee, collected her handbag, phone and car keys and just before she stepped outside, she grabbed Jackson’s fleece from the coat hook in the hall. It might be summer but it was the middle of the night and it was nippy. She zipped it up and inhaled Jackson’s aroma; she doubted Will would notice it wasn’t hers.
The roads to the airport were clear and she made good time, parked the car and found herself waiting in arrivals – with a lot of male taxi drivers – just before one am. She glanced at the arrivals board and grinned to herself when she saw that his plane was on time. She was on schedule to be back in her bed and grabbing her four hours sleep. Hurray.
She heard a collective groan go around her fellow drivers, then looked at the arrivals board. She groaned – albeit belatedly. The plane was delayed an hour. An hour. How annoying that it was such short notice; she could have had another hour in bed.
Okay, so now she’d be back in her bed by four-thirty. Still three hours sleep. That would be okay.
Along with everyone else Lily headed for the limited seating and was lucky enough to find a seat, even if it was wedged between two burly taxi drivers who seemed to feel the need to fan themselves with their passenger name cards.
The hour dragged and when Lily eyes closed she didn’t attempt to fight the ensuing sleep, which ended abruptly when her neighbours both jumped up and Lily flopped like a wilting flower.
The plane had landed; the baggage was in the hall.
Lily hustled and bustled her way to the front of the arrivals cluster, almost crushed against the Perspex barrier she scanned the passengers who wheeled their luggage past her.
Drivers collected their passengers and disappeared into the night; Lily began to worry that Will had marched – no hobbled – straight past her and she hadn’t noticed.
She glanced at the time – ten to three.
Eventually she was the only driver left. She pulled out her phone and checked Will’s original message, checked the flight number, the date, the airport. Phew, she was definitely in the right place; he should have been on that flight and there was no message to say he wasn’t.
Lily looked around her, hoping to find someone to ask if all the passengers were off the plane yet – but there was no one.
She sent Will a message – but he wasn’t online.
What now?
She recognised Will’s deep
, gravelly laughter long before she saw him. Her hackles rose, it was three in the morning and he was laughing.
He was in a wheelchair, a pair of crutches wedged between his knees. Was it really that bad?
‘Oh my God,’ Lily said, though not so loud that Will could hear. Or his companion. She was tall and had impossibly smooth, slender legs that were on full display beneath her short, flappy skirt. She giggled as Will delivered utterances too low for Lily to hear, even in the empty arrivals hall. The woman was alternately pushing Will’s wheelchair and dragging a trolley full of luggage.
Finally he disengaged from charming his companion and looked at Lily, his grin spread from ear to ear. ‘Babe,’ he called out. ‘You came.’
‘Of course I did. You told me to.’ Lily didn’t attempt to hide her tetchiness.
‘Babe,’ he drawled. ‘Meet Giselle. She’s been helping me.’
Had he been drinking? Stupid question.
Giselle said ‘hi’ in a sharp American accent, her immense teeth on display.
‘Hello. I’m Lily,’ Lily said, in case Giselle thought her name was actually Babe.
With Giselle pushing Will and dragging his luggage and Lily on the other side of the barrier they walked the length of the hall. Finally Will stopped and held his arms open to Lily. ‘Have you missed me, babe?’ He belched into her ear as she bent down to receive his hug.
‘No more than you’ve missed me.’ She could smell whisky in his belch. She recoiled.
‘Hey. Don’t be like that. I’m back now and I’m real glad to see you.’
‘Real glad,’ Lily echoed.
‘Help Giselle, Lily.’ Will waved his arms around as Giselle let go of the luggage trolley and gripped the wheelchair handles.
‘I think I’d rather push the wheelchair.’ Lily forced a tight smile at Giselle.
‘Give Giselle a break, babe. She’s dragged that all the way from the baggage hall, and she had to get those cases off the carousel. You in the short stay car park?’
‘Yes.’ Lily examined the luggage, most of it pink or leopard skin. Most of it definitely not Will’s. She turned to remonstrate but Will had already urged Giselle on, urged her out into the night towards the car park.
Lily glanced at her watch. It was three-fifteen am. She could still fit in two hours and forty-five minutes of sleep.
As she stumbled towards the car park, the trolley veering off at angles as and when it pleased, she seethed at the ease with which the wheelchair seemed to travel. Will didn’t know exactly where her car was, and Lily reached it first after shouting herself hoarse to get his attention.
‘Okay, babe,’ he shouted as Giselle pushed him back. ‘Let’s not get bad tempered.’ Lily heard Giselle giggle.
‘Bitch,’ she muttered as she pulled Will’s three bags from the trolley and hurled them into the boot.
‘Hey Lily, we need to get Giselle’s stuff in there too.’ Will used the crutches to haul himself out of the wheelchair. ‘And this wheelchair needs to go back; there’s a deposit on it.
‘I’ll do it.’ Giselle grabbed the wheelchair and marched back towards the airport building.
Will hobbled towards the car’s rear door.
‘Just a minute. What’s going on?’
‘Babe, I said we’d drop Giselle off. It’s the least I could do.’ He flung the rear door open. ‘I’ll have to sit across the whole seat, got to get this ankle up.’
‘Where the hell does Giselle live? It’s the middle of the night. I’ve got work in the morning.’
‘Just a little detour. It’s only twenty minutes. She’s been so helpful. It would be mean to abandon her now. Get her luggage in, then we can get off as soon as she returns.’
Ten minutes later, after wedging Giselle’s cases in the boot and relocating Will’s bags forcibly into the rear foot-wells, Lily slumped into the driver’s seat. ‘Where the hell is she?’
It was three-thirty am. Two-and-a-half hours sleep.
‘Probably having trouble getting the deposit back.’ Will half laughed, then yawned. Lily knew that by the time they got to the car park exit he would be nodding off.
Lily started the engine, put the car in reverse.
‘Hey, babe, what are you doing?’
‘I’m just turning the car around, just getting ready so we can go when your friend finally comes back.’
Another five minutes passed. Lily seethed. Will gave a loud snore and woke himself up.
‘Hi,’ Giselle said, throwing the passenger door open and smiling in at Lily. ‘Sorry about that. I had to go all the way over to the far desk. Took a while.’
Liar. Giselle had reapplied her make-up, brushed her hair and sprayed on so much cloying perfume that made it Lily first sneeze, then gag.
‘Okay, where to?’ Lily heard herself say, sounding like a taxi driver.
Will was right; it was a mere twenty minute detour. Twenty minutes of freezing with the window down because Lily could hardly breathe for Giselle’s perfume. Another five minutes as Will and Giselle exchanged phone numbers and fond farewells. Then ten minutes to help Giselle unload and carry her luggage to her building door. Giselle even expected Lily to help her get the luggage to her first floor flat, but Lily gave an emphatic no to that. Enough was enough.
‘Thanks so much for the ride,’ Giselle drawled as she fumbled in her purse. She passed Lily a ten dollar note.
‘No thanks,’ Lily snapped. ‘I’m not a bloody taxi.’
‘You Brits. I’ve lived here for ten months and I still don’t get your sense of humour.’ She cackled before lifting the first of her suitcases inside the building door.
‘That’s cos it’s not bloody funny,’ Lily muttered, walking away.
‘Great girl, that Giselle. So helpful.’
Lily slammed her door and started the car up. She didn’t speak.
‘Don’t be like that babe,’ Will said. ‘We’ll soon be home. Your place or mine?’
Was he fucking joking?
Lily checked the time. It was ten past four. Another hour or so before they reached Will’s. Ten minutes to get him inside. Ten minutes home. She could still be in her bed by five-thirty, still get two hours’ sleep.
She turned the radio on, not only to keep herself awake but also to prevent a screaming row with Will while she was driving.
‘Ah, home.’ Will woke from his deep sleep as Lily pulled onto his drive.
She dragged his bags from the rear foot-well, careful, despite her anger and tiredness not to knock his ankle. She picked the crutches up from the floor and handed them to him.
‘Give me the keys and I’ll open the door.’ She waited while Will fumbled about in his pockets.
If he didn’t have the keys she’d kill him.
Fortunately for them both he found them.
Twelve
Lily jerked awake when the alarm went off. She squinted at her phone; apparently she’d been asleep for over two hours. It felt like five minutes. Damn Will. They weren’t even supposed to be together anymore and he had her running around after him. He’d been such a selfish bastard. And she’d been such a fool.
Then he’d kissed her. And her knees had melted.
A goodnight kiss, a thank you kiss. That was how he’d described it after she’d helped him up the stairs and out of his trousers. He’d fallen asleep immediately and she closed his bedroom door behind her quietly as she left.
That was the trouble with Will, it was what had kept her enthralled for ten years. He could be so self-centred then redeem himself with a kiss or a simple little gesture. He was good in bed too, maybe too good – practised and perfected.
With guilt creeping into her heart she thought of Jackson. She pictured his tanned face, his crinkled blue eyes, his sun-bleached hair, his odour – as sweet as a warm, sea-scented breeze. She really must not think about him. Thiers was a nine day fling, nothing more. Why did he keep cropping up in her thoughts? Still, it was nice to dream of his face, enjoy the memory of their romance. S
he really would have to stop thinking about Jackson, decide if she wanted to pick up where she’d left off with Will and, most importantly today, focus on work.
She jumped awake again. She’d dozed off; a whole hour had passed.
‘Aargh,’ she cried. Now she would be late. Late for the meeting with Cyril. The man who had stolen her job.
She jumped in the shower, even cleaned her teeth while standing under the water – a dirty trick she’d seen Will perform many times. He also peed in the shower, but Lily drew the line at that disgusting habit.
She’d had the foresight to choose and lay out her clothes before she’d gone to bed early the previous night. Just as well given how long she’d spent ferrying Will and his American friend around.
The dress was smart and navy with a finishing touch of pink, very business-like but it also managed to convey young and professional without a hint of irony. The last thing Lily wanted was for anyone, especially stuffy Cyril, not to take her seriously. She slipped it on and admired herself in the mirror; she felt confident. Her hair only required its normal, well-practiced manoeuvre with several pins to secure it, a quick slick of soft pink lip gloss – thanks to her tan she didn’t need any more makeup – and she was done. She slipped on her jacket and stepped into the shoes.
Those navy and pink shoes. She wondered fleetingly whether wearing the shoes was a good idea. So far they hadn’t brought her much luck, quite the opposite; and she had vowed she wouldn’t wear them again. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror and the decision was made. They looked amazing, gave her the required height to add to her confidence – with a bit of luck, old Cyril might even be shorter than her now, allowing her to look down on him. Plus, they were a perfect match to the dress.
She felt good. And she’d even managed to make up for lost time and, providing the traffic was kind, she wouldn’t even be late.
And the traffic was kind: no holdups, no breakdowns, no road works. On the journey she considered what she wanted from the meeting, even though it was Cyril who had called it.
She wanted to assert herself – she may not have got the role she rightly deserved but she was still a valuable member of the team. She definitely wanted to stay in her current role at Bensons. Or, if a restructure was taking place she definitely wanted a new role in that structure. Conversely, she didn’t want Damon ousted. He was a valuable member of the team too. She wondered whether Damon had defended her? Or, was it really every man and woman for themselves? If a restructure was inevitable – of course it was – she wanted to be part of it, she wanted to influence it, she wanted to save every member of the team.
