by Ella Harper
Pouring herself a cup of Earl Grey as her glass of champagne seemed unlikely to return, Connie thought about Jonas. What he had done was awful. She didn’t condone it, nor was she sure she could ever actually forgive him. But underneath all the stress and the aggressiveness, Connie knew the real Jonas must be in there somewhere. He was a good man who had done a bad thing. More than once, yes, and it couldn’t ever happen again.
But just as she had needed him back at university when she was a mess, Connie knew that Jonas needed her now. She shouldn’t give up on him when they had such a great history together; when they had a future planned.
Jonas
‘You lost the case.’
Jonas stared at his boss, feeling his heart pumping madly in his chest. ‘Yes. I lost the case.’
‘What the fuck?’ There was no vapid smile on offer from Lukas today, no Elf-like Will Ferrell whimsy. ‘How could you lose it? What did you do wrong? What did you miss?’ Lukas wasn’t holding back.
‘I don’t think I missed anything,’ Jonas said as calmly as he could. ‘I think I covered every angle. I did much of the research myself on the request of the barrister.’ He named the barrister in question for good measure.
‘That’s even worse,’ Lukas snarled. ‘If you did the research yourself, there shouldn’t have been a stone left unturned here.’ He slammed his hand down on Jonas’s desk.
Jonas felt an irrational rush of anger when a photo of himself and Connie fell over as a result of Lukas’s hand slap. Who the hell did Lukas think he was, Jonas fumed?
‘I’m not impressed,’ Lukas stated flatly.
Lukas wasn’t impressed? That made Jonas’s blood boil. He got it; each case, won or lost, was an indication in Lukas’s eyes as to how that person was doing within the firm. Of how successful they were. Whether or not they ‘deserved’ a bonus. But the point was, Jonas had an impeccable reputation at work. His success rate was high and he had won way more cases than he had lost. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of cases he had ever lost in his entire life.
Why wasn’t he being rewarded for his loyalty to the firm? Why wasn’t he being recognised for his commitment and the amount of extra, unpaid hours he worked on a weekly basis?
‘This was such a big case,’ Lukas was storming. ‘I trusted you with it, Jonas. I trusted you.’ He was pacing the office now. ‘And you’ve let me down. Big time.’
Jonas stared at him. He wanted to explode. The way Lukas was talking, anyone would think Jonas had cheated on him. Had a five-year affair, more like, and sired two illegitimate children. Not lost a case that had been a headache from start to finish because it had almost been impossible to win and Jonas had had little to no help with it.
Jonas wasn’t even sure what Lukas was saying now because for his own sanity, he had somehow managed to block out the noise, but he was sure it was mostly about what a let-down Jonas was, how he had disappointed Lukas and the entire firm. How everything would probably collapse and none of them would be due bonuses this year, all because Jonas had lost one bloody case. He was due at the Magistrates’ shortly, but he knew he couldn’t get up and leave just yet.
‘Well, no one will get a bonus this year, that’s for sure,’ Lukas finished, coming to a standstill in front of Jonas’s desk with his hands on his hips.
Jonas regarded him, feeling coldly furious. Lukas looked faintly ridiculous standing there with his hands on his hips in his outlandish houndstooth suit. Like he could be an extra in a panto or something.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jonas managed eventually. ‘I really tried very hard with this case. Worked all the hours, gathered all the relevant information. I’m really sorry I’ve let you down.’ His voice sounded flat and expressionless, but Jonas wasn’t really fussed how he sounded.
‘You clearly didn’t try hard enough,’ Lukas shot back, unperturbed by Jonas’s apologies. ‘I can’t even look at you.’ He stalked out of Jonas’s office.
Jonas let out a laugh. Lukas couldn’t even look at him? Christ. How utterly ridiculous this was. It was a JOB. Yes, it was important; of course it was. But it was genuinely only a job, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t life or death, and he was being made to feel as though he had let someone die in an operating theatre or something equally dramatic. Jonas felt rather like he’d been reprimanded by his headmaster and needed a sly cigarette by the bike sheds.
Jonas thought for a second, then put a quick call in to JJ, asking him if he fancied a drink after he’d finished up in court. They made arrangements and Jonas left later than he’d hoped, striding past Lukas’s vast, opulent office without a backward glance. He was past caring today.
‘You all right?’ JJ asked as Jonas joined him in a pub near JJ’s apartment.
‘Not bad,’ Jonas said, picking up the bottle of beer JJ had lined up for him. He drained it in one and motioned for another set of drinks. ‘Strike that… I’m not great.’
‘I can see that.’ JJ drained his own bottle of beer. ‘There. Now we’re quits.’
Jonas laughed. ‘Thanks. Just… a really bad day. Bad few weeks, in fact.’
JJ nodded. ‘You seemed stressed at the dinner party.’
‘Did I?’ Jonas ran a jerky hand through his hair. He glanced at JJ. He looked healthy and vital, as he always did, in a good tracksuit and some sleek trainers, but today, it made Jonas feel rather inadequate. He was fairly certain he looked pasty and a trifle overweight. ‘Can’t really remember how I was at the dinner party, to be honest. It’s just been one thing after another recently.’
‘On the work front?’
Jonas paused. It wasn’t just work. But he couldn’t talk to JJ about him and Connie. Jonas swallowed awkwardly. He couldn’t even bear thinking about what he’d done. What he’d done more than once. He held a hand out in front of him, appalled that this hand had hurt Connie the way it had. Did he need therapy? Maybe he needed therapy.
‘Mostly work,’ Jonas said, realising JJ was staring at him. ‘I spend most of my time at court and then I’m back at my desk doing paperwork and then I’m at the police station picking up the pieces for another bugger who’s been arrested.’
‘Maybe you’re in the wrong job,’ JJ suggested, pushing another bottle of beer towards Jonas. ‘You never know; this might be time for a career change. It’s pretty shite if you don’t enjoy your job.’
Jonas sipped his second beer, feeling calmer. ‘Do you enjoy yours?’
‘Yep.’ JJ leant against the bar. ‘I mean, some clients are more difficult than others, but the pay is good and it’s fun.’
‘Probably because of all the birds you pull,’ Jonas said, putting his beer down to rub his eyes. ‘Man, but I am exhausted.’
‘Nah, not that really.’ JJ checked his phone and tucked it into the pocket of his tracksuit trousers. ‘I’m not too fussed about all that at the moment.’
‘Oh?’ Jonas frowned. ‘Thought that was a perk of the job.’
‘It has been in the past, for sure. I’m just not up for the whole one night stand thing anymore.’ JJ looked away. ‘It’s pretty empty. Sounds exciting and cool if you’re happily married like you , but in reality, it can get really boring.’
Jonas let out a dismissive grunt. Boring? Jonas couldn’t believe that. Not that he wanted to go out and sleep with other women. It wasn’t that. It was just that JJ’s life seemed enviable in many ways. His own flat – his own space. A job he loved. A job that was flexible and fulfilling. How amazing would that be?
Jonas sighed. He felt so bloody trapped sometimes. So suffocated. Bound by his house and his mortgage and his marriage. He did love Connie. He really loved Connie. And the girls. But sometimes the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders was crushing.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ JJ asked, putting a hand on Jonas’s arm.
Jonas looked up. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Really. It’s just this stupid case.’ He drank more beer. ‘I might need to get exceptionally drunk tonight.’
‘I guessed that.�
� JJ put his hand up to get more drinks. ‘I won’t match you beer for beer because I have a client at midday tomorrow. And, you know, I’m a health freak. But I’ll definitely keep you company.’
‘Thanks,’ Jonas threw him a grateful smile. ‘If I get disgustingly pissed can I stay at yours tonight?’
JJ grinned. ‘Of course. As long as you don’t mind wearing a tracksuit into work tomorrow.’
Jonas shrugged. ‘I’ll just wear this again. Or maybe one of your tracksuits. And some of those swanky trainers.’ He let out a loud belch. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear indeed.’ JJ passed him another bottle of beer. ‘And you are welcome to some swanky trainers.’
‘Don’t you try and get into bed with me later,’ Jonas chided his friend, realising he was swaying. God, he was such a lightweight these days. At uni, he had been able to drink his own bodyweight in snakebite and black.
‘I’ll do my very best to resist you,’ JJ reassured him. ‘But because I know you need a laugh, I’m going to regale you with some stories from a pal of mine. Dates that went bad. Hilarious sex. That kind of thing.’
‘When you say “a pal of yours”…’
‘Yes. You’re right. It’s me.’ JJ let out a belly laugh. ‘So. “My pal” was out one night and he met this girl. At least… he thought it was a girl…’
Jonas let out a short laugh and felt better. This is what friends were for.
Layla
Layla tiredly filed her notes in her cabinet. It was Friday night and she was shattered. Her last client had been one of the ones she found difficult to talk to as she had so many tragic issues. As a therapist, Layla had learnt to detach from her clients so as not to get overly involved but there was the odd client who really tugged at the heartstrings. Abuse by a parent, bullying at school and terminal illness – listening to other people talk about huge problems had a sobering effect on a person. It also put everything else in perspective.
Well. It didn’t make living with her mum any easier as such, but it was certainly humbling.
I need a diagnosis, Layla thought to herself. If it’s dementia, I need to know and I need to work out how to deal with it.
She checked her phone. The usual round of non-responses, sordid responses and dick pics from her online dating contacts. She sighed. Where were all the good guys? The ones who didn’t feel the need to show her pictures of their penises before she had even met them? God. There had to be better ways to meet a guy. But maybe not with an ill mother at home. Maybe online dating was the only way to go for a person in her position.
The doorbell rang. Layla looked up and frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone; she was done for the day. Opening the door, she found Connie there, a big rucksack on her shoulder, brandishing a bottle of Prosecco. She was heavily made up and dressed in jeans and a jumper, which was a bit odd, but she looked well.
‘Is it OK to turn up unannounced?’ Connie asked, pulling a winsome expression. ‘I bring Prosecco. Not just one bottle, but two!’ She put her hand over her shoulder and reached into her rucksack, expertly pulling another bottle from it. ‘See?’
‘Fabulous!’ Layla grinned and stood aside to let Connie in. They hugged warmly and Layla took a bottle from her. ‘This is just what I need. I don’t have much in the way of food, though. A cheese board maybe?’
‘Music to my ears.’ Connie came in. ‘Bella is out with friends and Hannah has a sleepover. Jonas has gone for some work drinks and I… I didn’t really fancy sitting indoors alone. I thought you might be free.’
‘What, because I have no life?’ Layla realised she sounded snappy.
‘God, no!’ Connie looked taken aback. ‘Just because I know you don’t like leaving your mum alone for too long.’
Layla gave a rueful smile. ‘You’re so right.’ She even had a shopping order due to arrive the next day – she now hated going to the shops and leaving her mum on her own for too long. If she ventured out to do anything else, she always let a neighbour know so they could check on her.
‘Is your mum around?’
Layla nodded. ‘And I have to warn you – she’s far worse than the last time you saw her. Well. I should say, she might be. It’s so hit and miss, she might be lucid and coherent or like a stranger.’ She put her hand on Connie’s arm. ‘And she might not recognise you. She might be rude. She sometimes swears.’
‘Layla, chill out. I don’t mind what she does.’ Connie waved Layla’s hand off. ‘I like a good swear myself. Shall we go upstairs and sort out some glasses?’
Layla let out a breath. It was lovely that Connie had turned up like this. It was definitely what she needed at the end of a tough week… great company and a few glasses of bubbles. She just couldn’t help worrying about her mum and how she might behave. It would be great to just relax and not have to stress about anything at all. Just for a few hours. Layla remembered her troubled client from earlier and mentally slapped herself. She really had to stop feeling sorry for herself.
‘I really like how you have the lounge and kitchen upstairs,’ Connie said, looking around. ‘At least your office space is away from the living space.’
Layla nodded. ‘And it’s much better having mum up here too. Especially at the moment.’
‘Woah!’ Connie shot the Prosecco cork into the air. ‘I am so bad at opening these. Glasses, quick.’
Layla grabbed the glasses and between them, they managed to sort the drinks. They chinked glasses and took sips.
‘Ahhh,’ Layla said, feeling herself relax.
‘Ahhh,’ Connie said, clearly doing the same.
‘Tough week?’ Layla asked.
Connie averted her eyes and nodded. ‘Kind of. Jonas is really stressed.’
Layla opened the fridge and found some olives. ‘I noticed that at the dinner party. Work stuff, from what I understood.’
‘Yes. He’s been worrying about losing this big case he was working on.’ Connie took another swig of Prosecco.
Layla noticed that the hand gripping the glass of Prosecco was tense. Her knuckles were white. ‘Oh dear.’ Layla put out some olives and started putting a cheese board together. ‘Jonas doesn’t handle stress too well at the best of times, does he?’
Connie shrugged. ‘I guess not. He didn’t come home the other night.’
‘All night?’
‘All night. Unheard of.’ Connie chewed the inside of her cheek, something Layla knew she did when she felt anxious. ‘If JJ hadn’t called to let me know he was on his sofa pissed out of his head, I’d have been worried sick.’
‘Thank God JJ has a sensible head at times.’
Connie nodded. ‘Yes. Who’d have thought it?’
Layla laughed. ‘JJ’s gorgeous, inside and out. He just has… issues.’
‘You think so?’
Layla glanced at her. ‘I know so. I don’t know what those issues are exactly, but possibly something rather… dark.’
‘Dark?’ Connie looked surprised. ‘Sounds sinister.’
‘No. Just deep, I would say. Not sinister. Anyhoo. That’s his business.’ Layla wanted to hear more about Jonas. He was clearly in a bad way. ‘Does he take it out on you?’ Layla casually sliced up some goat’s cheese, not looking at Connie. ‘Jonas, I mean?’
There was a pause.
‘Sometimes,’ Connie admitted. ‘But I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s OK.’
‘Of course.’
Layla was always conscious of sounding as though she was analysing her friends. She didn’t want them to ever think they couldn’t just talk to her as friends did and not feel that they were in a therapy session of some sort. Not unless they made it clear they wanted to talk that way – then she would take all the time they needed.
Adding sliced apples, pistachios and a dish of tomato chilli chutney to the board, Layla eyed Connie briefly and surreptitiously. Something was going on with Connie and Jonas, but she wasn’t sure what. She could imagine Jonas losing his temper and becoming grumpy and shouty, but
maybe it was more than that. Connie looked good, but seemed slightly off-kilter. However, it was difficult to pinpoint why. Her nervy manner, perhaps? The heavy make-up? Just… something.
‘You know you can always talk to me, right?’ Layla pushed the cheese board in Connie’s direction. ‘I don’t mean as a therapist, obviously. I just mean… as a friend. I hate to think that you’re going through something you feel you can’t be open about.’
‘Thanks, Lay.’ Connie lifted her eyes for a second and her mouth twisted. ‘I will talk to you about it, I promise. Just not tonight, OK? I just need a break from everything for a minute.’
‘Got it. Shall we go to the lounge?’ Layla picked up the cheese board. ‘I’ll go and check on Mum in a sec, although she ate at lunchtime so she might not want anything else.’
‘I’ll take that.’ Connie lifted the board from her hands. ‘Go check on your mum.’
Layla opened her mum’s door. Evelyn was sitting upright on the bed, watching TV – some quiz programme she was addicted to. Her room was cosy and chintzy and it always smelt faintly of lily of the valley because she swore by an old-fashioned, heavily-scented talcum powder infused with the fragrance.
‘Hi Mum. Connie’s here if you want to come and join us?’
Evelyn turned away from her TV. ‘Connie?’
‘From university. Married to Jonas.’
‘Jonas?’ Evelyn looked vague. ‘Is he the good-looking one?’
‘Erm… I’m not sure I’d describe him as good-looking as such, but you know, each to their own…’
Evelyn let out an impatient sound. ‘I’m actually watching something very important here, Layla.’
Layla sighed. ‘OK, Mum. I’ll leave you to it. We have a cheese board if you fancy it. And Prosecco,’ she added, probably redundantly. Her mum had never been a drinker.
‘Is she OK?’ Connie asked. ‘I’ve eaten loads already.’ She gestured to the board apologetically.
‘Go for it. As I said, me and Mum ate earlier.’ She sat down on the sofa next to Connie, feeling her mood plummet.
