From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

  It was with mixed feelings that I returned to work at Mackerras Mackay.

  When I had taken maternity leave, I had been wonderfully happy. I had a fiancé whom I adored, was shortly to be married, and could not wait for the arrival of our child. Things were very different for me now.

  Everyone was sweet and understanding to me in those first few days when I struggled to get back into agency life, trying to pick up the threads again after such a long absence. Well - not quite everyone, perhaps.

  Ian had returned from America some months previously, swapping places with Rob Mackerras, who wanted to consolidate the businesses which Ian had set up abroad. He was, in effect, in charge of the London agency, and wielded considerable power over our working lives.

  I knew he had been married for two years, and had a little boy himself, and I hoped that we could put the unfortunate circumstances of our last meeting behind us, and become colleagues once again. Although I had not really forgiven him for that blow to the face, I fully accepted that I was to blame for his anger at the time.

  During the afternoon of my first day back, I was summoned to his office.

  I was curious to see him. He had not changed much. His hair was attractively flecked with a few grey strands, and he was handsome and immaculate as ever in a striped shirt and navy suit.

  He frowned across his desk at me, unsmiling, severe.

  “Eithne - I was sorry to hear of your loss.”

  He didn’t sound it.

  “Thank you,” I replied quietly, also solemn faced. “I hope your wife and son are well?”

  He looked at me as if to imply it was no concern of mine.

  “I need you to settle in quickly now you’re back,” he said. “Things are difficult at present, and we can’t afford to carry passengers. I’ll be asking Robin to keep close tabs on you until we’re happy you are coping.”

  “I don’t anticipate any problems.”

  His gaze swept over me, searching perhaps for signs of change or weakness. He said

  “It must be difficult to be an unmarried mother bringing up an illegitimate child.”

  There was a deliberate, underlying note of cruelty in the way he said it. I looked away. It was impossible now to believe that I had once lain in this man’s arms and received his assurances of love. Perhaps he noticed the tiny shudder which ran through me, because he said very curtly, as if I were the most junior underling,

  “You can go now.”

  I left without another word. If he wanted to maintain a cold distance, then he could have it.

  The first few weeks were hard. I missed Nicholas dreadfully, because he was usually asleep when I returned from work, and weekends were devoted to spending every hour with him. My grief remained intense. I carried it in my shattered heart, and I don’t know whether anyone realised how much pain I suffered.

  To my surprise, one or two people asked me out in a dating kind of way, but I wasn’t ready for anything like that, and wondered ruefully whether I ever would be. It was impossible now to contemplate anyone replacing Nick in my heart.

  Outside work, I found myself relying on the support of Nick’s old friend Peter. He had been very good to us in a number of small ways, and I knew I could go to him for advice and practical help. He took me out for dinner several times when he was in London, and it was a tonic for me to get out of the flat and try to be more outgoing.

  I was reminded of the time we had met in the pub garden, all those years ago, and asked him if he remembered the occasion.

  “It seems like a whole other existence away,” I added. “It’s funny - I thought that my life was over when Nick dumped me then, little did I know what real grief was. I sometimes wonder what else the Fates have in store for me, they certainly seem to enjoy putting me on the rack. It makes me unbelievably sad that, just when I thought we were bound to each other, something so totally unexpected would part us for ever.”

  Peter looked at me with concerned eyes. I could tell he was trying hard to be positive for me.

  “I suppose it’s natural you should think that way,” he said. “Although, you’re a young woman, Eithne, you have plenty of time to come when, with luck, you’ll be happy again. Not with Nick, unfortunately. But you had some wonderful years together. Lots of people go through life without experiencing the kind of happiness you had. You should be grateful for that.”

  “I am. It just makes it very hard afterwards, when you have to do without it.”

  We sat in silence for a while, then I exerted myself, and asked after his plans. To his relief, his divorce from Silvia had come through, and he was now concentrating on the merging of two companies. His father was beginning to step back from the daily running of the company, and Peter had assumed managerial control.

  I liked hearing him talk about his work. His face would light up as he described the business to me, and sometimes I found it hard to believe that this mature and confident person was the gangly boy who had stepped on my toes at the school dance.

  “How are things at Mackerras Mackay?” he asked, as we waited for the bill - he always insisted on paying.

  “Oh - it’s not been easy going back, I hope things are going to get better,” I replied. I debated whether or not to tell him about it, but decided not to burden him with more of my problems. In fact, I was having a very unpleasant time.

  Chapter 29

  I had been back at work for about a month, when a dreadful thing happened. Robin was knocked off his bicycle by a lorry as he cycled to work, and ended up in hospital with severe injuries to his back and legs. They were not life threatening, but he would be hospitalised for some months, requiring several operations to correct the damage.

  That meant I was effectively left in charge of his clients, with the help of two relatively new young account executives. It was not great timing, considering I had only recently returned to the agency.

  Ian informed me coldly that it would be necessary for him to supervise our work very closely, as he was unsure of my ability to handle the extra responsibility.

  “I hope you two will help Eithne as much as you can, she’s going to need it,” he said to Will and Guy, the account execs. “And if you can see problems coming, make sure you get me involved at once.”

  The way he said all this made it sound as though I was out of my depth, and I think that Will and Guy were embarrassed for me.

  Puzzling things started to happen. I would go to a meeting only to find the time or location had changed, so it looked as though I was getting muddled. Memos went missing, creative teams complained about contrary instructions which impeded their work.

  I began to be afraid of Ian. It seemed to me that he was conducting a stealthy campaign to undermine me, and I could do very little about it.

  Robin, who could and would have protected me, was stuck in hospital. Rob Mackerras was in the New York office, and in any case, he had always taken Ian’s side during the fallout from the broken engagement.

  I put out a few feelers for new jobs, but the advertising business was in one of its periodic slowdowns, and firms were not hiring.

  One afternoon, Ian summoned me to his office and began to complain about some tiny issue on the John Warrender account, which he claimed was jeopardising the budget for the next campaign. I argued back, he dismissed all my attempts at rational discussion. In the end, frustrated, I said to him

  “What do you want, Ian? Are you still so mad at me that you need to challenge everything I do? If you think I’m incompetent, why don’t you fire me?”

  Part of me hoped he would. I was very unhappy about the constant sniping and unpleasantness.

  He narrowed icy, grey eyes, and walked round his desk to where I was sitting. His height always made him appear a formidable adversary, and I caught my breath, feeling threatened for a moment. He snapped

  “I seem to remember making some absurd promise to you that you would not be forced to leave if things soured between us. Unlike some people, I stick to my word. Ho
wever, you may find that you need to reconsider your position here if these problems keep cropping up.”

  I stood up to face him, determined not to be bullied. I knew Ian well enough to understand that any sign of weakness would be exploited.

  “I’m sorry about what happened, Ian, but that’s in a past life. Can’t we move on from that, and at least be civil to one another? We should be working together to make sure everything runs smoothly until Robin gets back.”

  “Don’t tell me how to run the business, Eithne,” he said coldly. “Just concentrate on your own accounts, there are people coming up behind you who’d love a chance to show what they are capable of. You might want to remember that.”

  I wondered whom he had in mind. Perhaps it was Guy, one of the account team working for me. He seemed like a younger version of Ian, and I did not trust him. Always sympathetic and complaisant to my face, I had detected him in one or two small deceits, and was now very much on my guard.

  Will, however, was a sweetie, and I found him a loyal ally in the battle to stay on top of things.

  One day, Will and I went for lunch in the pub. I made some reference to the latest irritant which had come my way from Ian’s direction.

  “I suppose it’s difficult for him because he fancies you,” Will said innocently, over the pie and chips.

  “What?”

  “Well - he’s always staring at you, I’ve noticed that he looks at you all the time. Didn’t you know he had a thing for you?”

  “Heaven forbid!”

  I thought for a moment, and told Will quickly and confidentially of our past history. He had no idea we had once been engaged.

  “I don’t think it’s a case of fancying, more like loathing,” I explained, but Will remained unconvinced. The idea made me uneasy, and I was even less comfortable when I had to deal with Ian in person.

  John Warrender came in for a review meeting. He had been ill, this was the first time I had seen him since my return, and it was like encountering a dear old friend. He insisted on hearing all about baby Nicholas, and Ian was forced to sit by while John and I indulged in a good catch up.

  “I hope you’re looking after her. She’s had a very difficult time, poor girl,” John said to Ian, and he nodded and smiled, as if my welfare was a prime concern.

  Ian was taking John to lunch after the meeting, but John insisted I came too. I exerted myself to be cheerful and charming - I thought it would be a good opportunity for Ian to realise that I was important to certain clients. He was rather silent during the meal, but John and I chattered away with gusto. It felt like the happier days when we had first worked together, and I enjoyed my food, and allowed myself a glass or two of wine.

  John had to leave early. He gave me a kiss, and asked me to visit them in Guildford before too long. I was about to ask for the bill, when Ian stopped me.

  “I’d like another coffee,” he said, signalling to the waiter.

  I subsided into my seat. Now John had left, the atmosphere grew cool, and I wondered how I would be made to pay for gate-crashing the occasion.

  Ian sat across the table, and stared at me with an unwavering gaze. The wine had given me courage, and I stared right back. For a minute, neither of us blinked, neither of us spoke.

  Then he said,

  “Do you ever think that if you’d married me, your precious Nick would still be alive?”

  I felt as if a dagger pierced my heart.

  I took a deep breath.

  “No. What would be the point? Anyway, it’s entirely possible his working life would have followed the same path. He could have been on that trip whether or not he was with me.”

  I was sad. I did wish we could put the past behind us. After all, Ian ought to have a whole new emotional focus in his wife and son.

  After a pause, Ian remarked,

  “By the way, I shouldn’t waste too much time charming the pants off John Warrender in future. His son is about to take over the business, and he’s a very different prospect, as you’ll find out.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ve always liked John, and I can’t think he’s ready to step down just yet.”

  Why was he taking such a long time with his coffee? I glanced at my watch. Ian leaned across the table. He said conversationally,

  “Do you still make those soft kitten noises when you have sex?”

  I jumped, I felt my face flaming.

  “Not appropriate, Ian.”

  I gestured to the waiter to bring the bill, it was time to stop this nonsense. Ian laughed, he reached out to grip my wrist.

  “You may find you need to be a little more accommodating in future, Eithne,” he murmured. I glared at him. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I didn’t like the underlying innuendo.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I retorted.

  He released my wrist, scowling. I paid the bill, we left the restaurant in silence, and, once outside, I muttered “I’m going to walk back”.

  I could feel his eyes boring into me as I strode away. I could not have tolerated his company in a cab.

  During the walk, I resolved that now, I had to share my concerns with a friend. I wondered whether I could speak to Robin in hospital, then remembered I would be seeing Peter Leigh at the weekend. However, when I returned to my desk, there was a message from him cancelling our arrangements. I picked up the phone and called his office, but his secretary told me he was unavailable.

  When I got home, I hugged my baby to me - but Nicholas was crawling now, and very squirmy, it was difficult to keep hold of him for long. I felt terribly alone.

  Chapter 30

  Low as I was, things kept happening to make me even lower. In the Saturday paper, I read an article about Charlie Davis, the photographer who had been with Nick on the fatal trip - she had been wounded, but not seriously - in which she revealed herself to be enthusiastically bi-sexual. She spoke movingly of those fateful days in Africa, and of her regard for Nick, and sadness about his death, but I was tormented with the thought that in the last week of his life, Nick might have been tempted by that slim body, such a contrast to his pregnant partner, and it made me wretched.

  Mrs DeLisle telephoned me to suggest that Nicholas should spend alternate weeks with them in Beresford. She did not like the fact that I had returned to work, and thought that his grandparents could provide better care and love than a nanny, especially now he was no longer a little baby. I knew how precious Nicholas was to her, but I could not face giving him up for weeks at a time, and her disappointment was made plain to me.

  After the exchange in the restaurant, Ian had kept some distance between us, and I began to hope that working life would finally shake down into a state of neutrality. I was beginning to feel tired and jumpy with worrying about work, and any respite from the pressure was welcome.

  Sometimes, I caught myself feeling resentful that Nick was not there to help me bring up our child. I played the “ if only “ game - if only he hadn’t pursued his own wishes and gone to Angola, if only he had thought more about my feelings, if only Charlie Davis had been briefed to undertake a different kind of photographic shoot - but it was a negative exercise, and left me feeling frustrated. In the circumstances, I couldn’t blame Nick, but, in the midst of my unmitigated grief, I occasionally began to wonder whether he would ever have been the kind of father I wanted for my baby, and this made me desperately sad.

  In the following week, a brainstorming session to discuss new business strategy for the agency was scheduled to take place at a hotel outside Sevenoaks. To my surprise, I was asked to be part of the group. This meant staying overnight on a Friday, and I asked my mother to babysit, as Pauline did not work weekends.

  Eight agency members met to debate and develop ideas, and I found that I enjoyed the discussions. When not trying to put me down, Ian was intelligent and incisive, he was an excellent moderator and I was able to forget our personal differences and contribute as in the old days. It made me glad I had been part of this team, an
d hope I might still have a future with Mackerras Mackay.

  We agreed to meet in the bar for drinks at 7pm, before dinner. When I went down, Ian was at the bar placing the order.

  “What are you drinking, Eithne?” he asked.

  “I’ll have a Pimms please.”

  I joined the others at a round table near the window. It was a beautiful summer evening. My colleagues were laughing and joking, and I felt happier and more at ease than I had done for some time. Ian came across with drinks on a tray.

  “Sorry, Eithne, I couldn’t fit your glass on with all the others,” he told me.

  “No problem, I’ll fetch it.”

  I wandered to the bar, and saw the barman looking intently at me. As I went to take a sip from the glass, which was brimming, he muttered to me in a low voice,

  “Don’t drink that.”

  “What?”

  His colleague dropped something, making a sudden crash at the far end of the bar and everyone turned to look. Quickly, the barman substituted a different glass of Pimms and took the original back under the counter.

  I looked at him in amazement.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not absolutely sure, but I think I saw that guy put something in your Pimms - better be safe than sorry,” he said. I looked blank, and he added quickly, “Don’t you know about drinks getting spiked?”

  “Spiked? What do you mean?”

  “Well - put it this way, you can’t taste a strong sleeping pill or sedative once it’s dissolved. You drink the drink, you crash out, it leaves you vulnerable. You’re staying here aren’t you? I guess someone intended to pay you a visit later on....you probably wouldn’t know what was happening or remember it afterwards.”

  I gazed at him in horror. Ian had done this? Panic seized me, and all I wanted was to get home, to safety, and my baby.