A Wild Affair: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  She met my eyes; she looked wary. “Really? You're happy for me? I thought you might be cross.”

  I took a mouthful of wine. “Really? Why would I be cross?”

  “I don't know.” She smiled awkwardly. “I wanted to tell you myself. I was so terribly vexed with Chester for spilling the beans. But then I thought to myself, well, maybe it's better that way. You and I … I do want to have that drink, one day, if you think you might want to …”

  “Sure,” I said vaguely, looking around for Chester or Max. I could be happy for her; it didn't mean I was going to completely forgive her.

  “Happy? Someone must be talking about me!” Chester said, bursting into the room. “Jess, great to see you. Your mom here has made me more than happy. Exceptionally so.”

  “Exceptionally, huh?” I smiled and nodded knowingly. Maybe my bullshit to Max had been more sensible than I'd thought. Chester must know about the article; his good mood meant that it was no big deal after all. Everything was going to be okay. “Well, that's great news.”

  “Yes, it is,” Chester said warmly. “And I flatter myself that she's quite pleased about it, too.”

  My mother nodded quickly, reaching out to put her arm through Chester's. “You know, I couldn't be more so,” she said, her voice catching slightly.

  “Esther, great to see you,” Max said easily, appearing at my side. Then he frowned, peering at her more closely. “Are you all right? Something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, don't mind me,” she said, wiping away a tear. “I just can't believe … First you and Jessica, and now Chester. I feel like that girl in The Sound of Music, wondering what wonderful thing I did to deserve all this.”

  “You don't have to ask that,” Chester said, pulling her into him. “You deserve all this and more. Doesn't she, Jess?”

  I took another slug of wine. “Everyone deserves to be happy,” I said, shooting a smile at Max.

  “Yes, they do,” he said, giving me an affectionate look that made me glow with pleasure. I was a good person. Okay, not good. Not great. But I was okay. I made mistakes, everyone did that. But I could also be generous. And I had Max, too—he made me good. He made me better.

  My mother caught my eye and evidently thought my glow was about her. “Oh, darling,” she said, her hand taking mine so that she, Chester, and I looked like we were about to start singing “Auld Lang Syne.” “Isn't this just so exciting though? Both of us getting married, to such wonderful men.”

  As she spoke, I looked back at Max, who winked at me and I felt a lurch in my stomach, of love, of desire. My Max. My perfect Max.

  “They are wonderful, aren't they?” I murmured, as Max handed Chester a glass of wine.

  “To Chester and Esther,” Max said.

  I giggled. “Poetry already. That's got to be a good sign, right?”

  “Right.” Chester grinned. “I hadn't thought of that.”

  “You hadn't noticed that your names rhymed?” Max asked incredulously. “Chester, come on, surely that was part of the attraction? I mean, you could go jogging in matching sweatshirts with your names embossed on the front.”

  Chester looked at him nervously, unsure whether he was joking.

  “You can get matching monogrammed towels,” I added helpfully. “And a sticker for your car.”

  “Sure,” Max said. “And just think of the answering machine message you can record.”

  “You could make up a song,” I said, winking at Max. “Chester and Esther can't come to the phone …”

  “Chester and Esther sadly aren't home,” Max added tunelessly. We were laughing; laughing like two people who knew each other inside out and back to front, who got the joke, who were meant for each other. It made me feel all warm inside, and it wasn't just the wine.

  I noticed that my glass was empty. “Who wants a refill?” I asked. “Mum? Chester?” Neither of them had taken more than a couple of sips. “Max?”

  He shook his head and I shrugged, taking my own glass back to the kitchen for more. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Chester approaching. “Hey, Jess. Can you point me in the direction of a phone I could use? Can't seem to get reception for my cell.”

  I sloshed some wine into my glass. I was feeling very happy, very pleased with myself. “There's a phone in here, if you want.”

  I pointed at the phone in the corner and Chester nodded gratefully. “I won't be long,” he said. “Just a quick work call.”

  I wandered out of the kitchen and back into the living room where Max and my mother were chatting easily about interior design. Helen was right, I realized. You didn't have to love your mother like you loved your boyfriend or friend. You didn't even have to like her most of the time. My mother was flawed, I knew that. She was annoying, and quite selfish, to be honest. But she was still my mother. She'd come to find me, and that had to count for something.

  The truth was, it was really incredible to have a person, just one person who loved you and who you loved. But actually, it was even better to have people. To have family. To belong to a unit. I'd never belonged to one before. And now … now I sort of did.

  “This is nice, isn't it?” I said, before I could stop myself. They both turned to look at me expectantly. “This,” I said, waving my hands around. “Us. Together. Having a nice time. It's just … nice, that's all.”

  Max held out his hand and I clasped it. “It's very nice,” he agreed.

  “Oh, it's lovely,” my mother said, taking Max's other hand and smiling at him gooey-eyed. “When I think how close I came to not contacting you … when I think how scared I was, how nervous … well, I don't like to think about it. Because now, well, things just couldn't be better, could they? I've got a wonderful daughter. And a wonderful son-in-law. And best of all, I met Chester.”

  “Best of all?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Not best,” my mother said quickly. “I didn't mean that. I meant …”

  “She meant best in that it was an unexpected extra,” Max said kindly.

  I forced a smile. So she was more excited to meet Chester and Max than me—so what? I was strong, like Max said. I was happy. I was …

  “Max?” We all turned to see Chester in the doorway, a strange expression on his face.

  “Chester. Did you manage to make your call …” I trailed off as I registered his expression. He looked like someone trying really hard not to punch something. His eyes were boring into Max's like daggers.

  “Chester?” Max asked immediately, letting my hand drop. “What is it?”

  Chester walked into the room, but stayed ten feet from us. “I've just been on the phone to my people at Jarvis.”

  “Chester,” my mother said, faux-seriously “Chester, if this is work, then I'm very cross. You promised that tonight wouldn't be about work.”

  “I lied,” Chester said, and the tone of his voice sent an electrical current through the room.

  “Chester?” Max asked again. “What's up?”

  “What's up?” Chester asked. “What's up? What's up is that I have just been told about an article in today's Advertising Today. An article which I presume was available to you, being an advertising executive. An article which you didn't, however, think to bring to my attention. An article which, I'm told, has wrecked our Glue deal.”

  I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. Max looked at him steadily. “I know. I'm sorry, Chester. It was a real blow to read it,” he said.

  “A blow,” Chester said sarcastically. “You think? So I guess you did know about it, then. You see, I've just been telling my people that you couldn't have known, that it was impossible because you would have told me right away. But I guess I was wrong.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Max to go white again, for the anxiety to show in his eyes, but he didn't; it didn't. “I assumed you'd read it,” he said simply. “But Chester, you should be directing your anger at whoever leaked the news, not at us.”

  “Is that so?” Chester looked at him in disbelief
. “Do you know how long I've been putting this deal together? Do you know how important it is to me, to Jarvis? Of course you do. I told you. I also told you that if the news got out, it would ruin everything. And now, what do you know, it's out there, and you don't even seem bothered about it. Let me tell you one more thing, Max. I do not like being screwed over. I don't like it one bit.”

  “It wasn't Max,” I said suddenly. I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear to have Max accused unfairly. I had to tell him. Had to tell him the truth. “It wasn't. I know it wasn't. It was …”

  “Jess, this is between me and Chester,” Max interrupted, his tone more serious than I'd ever heard it before. “Chester, you're not listening. It was not us. It wasn't me.”

  “Save it,” Chester snorted derogatively “The people who knew were me, my accountant, my lawyer, and you. You think one of them contacted Advertising Today?”

  Max looked at him levelly “I don't know, Chester. I concede that it's unlikely.”

  “You bet your ass it is. Either you told them, or you told someone who told them. Either way, the deal's screwed. Either way, I can't trust you anymore. Either way, Jarvis Private Banking is no longer a client of yours, Max. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's got to be.”

  “Wait,” I said desperately. “Wait, there's something you need to know. It was …”

  “Not now, Jess,” Max cut in again. “Chester, think about what you're saying here. I give you my word that the leak did not come from Milton Advertising. Instead of arguing we need to think about damage limitation. We need to …”

  “There is no ‘we,’” Chester cut in. “Not anymore. I'm afraid your word doesn't seem to count for much, Max. The only people from Jarvis you're going to hear from is our lawyers. Come on, Esther. We have to go.”

  He held out his arm. I spun around to look at my mother. “She's not going anywhere,” I said. “Right, Mum?”

  My mother smiled weakly. “Chester,” she said tentatively. “Chester, do we really have to go so soon?”

  “Yes, we do,” he said, his arm still outstretched. “You coming? Or are you staying? Make your mind up, Esther.”

  She reached out and put her hand on mine and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to choose me. Chester was being irrational and rude and my mother was going to stay and he was going to regret raising his voice and …

  “I'm sorry, Jess. I have to go.” She said it so quietly, I nearly missed it.

  “You have to what?”

  “I'm so sorry,” she said again, standing up and turning her head to avoid my eyes.

  I looked at her for a moment, my heart and head exploding with things I wanted to shout, but I knew already that there was no point.

  Chester looked at me sadly. “I'm sorry, too, Jess. We'll set up a dinner some other time. You, me, and your mother.”

  I looked at him stonily, then turned to my mother. “I don't have a mother,” I said levelly.

  “Jess, don't say that,” my mother implored me. “I'm not choosing Chester over you. But he's going to be my husband. I have to …”

  “Save it,” I said angrily. “You made your choice a long time ago. Now go.”

  “Come on, Esther,” Chester said, pulling her out of the door and slamming it shut, leaving Max and me to stare after them.

  “Well,” Max said, sitting down on the sofa, a dazed expression on his face. “That went well, wouldn't you say? We must entertain more often.”

  I sat down next to him, my mind racing. “Max …,” I said tentatively. “Max, there's something I need to tell you …”

  He looked at me for a second, then stood up. “I'm going to go after him,” he said, grabbing his jacket.

  “Now? No, Max. Leave it. Let him cool off. I need to tell you something.”

  “I can't leave it.” He put his hand through his hair. “There's too much at stake, Jess. Your thing will keep, won't it?”

  I nodded uncertainly. “And if Chester won't listen?”

  “Then I'll be at the office doing a bit of damage limitation.”

  “I could come, if you wanted?” I offered.

  Max shook his head. “Don't wait up,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of my head, before grabbing his keys and leaving.

  Chapter 16

  I WOKE UP TO FIND Max hovering over me, coffee in hand. I couldn't believe I'd actually fallen asleep—I'd thought I was going to be up all night worrying. But it turned out I had managed to nod off after all, and from the smile on Max's face I almost started to wonder if I'd imagined everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” he said, handing me the mug. “Would you like some toast?”

  I looked at him uncertainly. “Um, okay,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine,” Max said firmly.

  “What time did you get back last night? I fell asleep …”

  Max grinned sheepishly and I noticed the bags under his eyes. Okay, so I hadn't imagined anything. “You've just gotten back, haven't you?”

  He shrugged.

  “And did you speak to Chester?”

  “Not exactly. He's still refusing to take my calls. But I am fully confident that the situation will resolve itself. I just need to find out who spilled the news to Advertising Today and then everything will be okay again.”

  I gulped. “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Contacts,” Max said sagely. “On the magazine. Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of this. And when I do …” His face darkened briefly, then the grin reappeared. “So, toast with jam coming up. Or would you prefer honey?”

  “Jam's great,” I said weakly. “Just the ticket.”

  “Or croissants? I bought some croissants on my way home. What do you think?”

  I looked at Max carefully. He looked wired. His eyes were rimmed with red and his face was drawn and pale. “I think toast will be fine. In fact, I'm getting out of bed. I'll do it. You go and have a shower.”

  “Great. See you in a bit.”

  I pulled myself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, an ominous feeling in my stomach. There was an open tub of Pro Plus caffeine tablets on the table and ground coffee spilled on the floor. This was not like Max. Not at all. I tidied up a bit, made some toast and ate it halfheartedly, then jumped in the shower as Max was getting dressed. Max was still smiling forcefully when I emerged from the bedroom. He was going to get sore cheeks if he kept this up, I found myself thinking. He was going to have a meltdown.

  I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say. So instead I just got ready for work and watched as he opened and shut his briefcase several times to check that he had everything, and followed him out of the apartment, and into his car—the same routine we had every morning, only this morning things were different. A bad different.

  “So … what are you going to do?” I asked him tentatively as we pulled into the parking lot of Milton Advertising.

  “Do?” He carefully parked the car and turned to me, a quizzical expression on his face.

  “About Jarvis,” I said. “Other than try to track down the real source of the story?”

  “Other than that?” Max said thoughtfully, as though I'd asked him what he thought about the stance of the Burmese government after the recent cyclone.

  “Yes,” I said, my tone more insistent now. “What are you going to do about Chester?”

  Max shrugged, turned off the ignition, and turned to me. “There's nothing I can do except find the source. Chester won't speak to me. That's all I have.”

  I nodded uncertainly. “And in the meantime, should I carry on working on the campaign? Should I assume it's all systems go?”

  A little frown flickered across Max's face. “Maybe you should direct your energies elsewhere,” he said. “For a day or two. Until this has all blown over.”

  “Okay.” I looked at him carefully. “So I'll tell Caroline and the creatives to work on something else, too?”

&
nbsp; “Great. Yes, sensible,” Max agreed, moving to open his car door, evidently keen to end this conversation.

  “Only they're going to want to know why,” I persisted. I could feel that I was picking away at a fresh scab, but I didn't know what else to do. Max was looking straight ahead, one hand gripping the door and the other gripping the steering wheel. “Should I tell them? Or should I make something up? I mean, they'll have seen Advertising Today, won't they, so it won't be long before they guess anyway …”

  “Fine, so tell them.” Max turned toward me, his eyes glaring. “I don't know why you're asking me stuff when you seem to have all the answers. Do what you want. Do what you think best. I'll … I'll see you later.” He swung open the door and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him before marching off toward the office. I left it a few minutes and then, slowly, I followed him.

  “Jess! Jess, I've just been talking to Elle's lovely personal assistant,” Caroline said, rushing toward me as I walked through the main glass doors. “Such a sweet girl. Anyway, she was saying that Elle's calendar is getting really booked up—she's got this underwear launch and then she's going to Australia for two weeks and then there's a couple of school concerts she can't miss and so she really needs to know when the Jarvis launch is going to be. I mean, not the actual launch but you know, when she should start carrying the bag. Her personal assistant said she'll need to schedule it in.”

  “She needs to schedule in carrying a bag?” I looked at Caroline nonplussed; she nodded seriously.

  “It needs to like, work with what she's wearing.”

  Of course it did. I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “Look, I'll get back to you, okay? And in the meantime, there are some bits and pieces from the Superfoods campaign I'd really like you to work on for the next couple of days, if that's okay?”

  “Superfoods?” Caroline looked at me in utter shock. “But there's like sooo much work on Jarvis. I'm getting like phone calls every five minutes with questions, and the project plan has got like ten things on it with red traffic lights, and we've got loads that are amber, and …”