“I can’t stay here now - I have to get back to London,” I whispered, my eyes beseeching him to help. The barman thought quickly.
“I’ll ring through to Reception, and call you a minicab. When it’s here, they’ll let me know, and I’ll just say there’s a telephone call for you. What’s your name?”
I told him, he repeated it.
“How long will it take you to get your stuff together?”
“Only a minute or so.”
“Okay. You can do that while the cab waits. You’d better go back now and act like nothing happened.”
Another customer came up. I picked up my drink with a shaky hand, and re-joined my colleagues.
“Having fun chatting up the bar staff, Eithne?” Ian asked in a sarky tone. I tried to smile, and took a seat. I could not believe what I had just been told.
My colleagues were in high spirits, and no-one seemed to notice that I was very quiet. I took a few sips of Pimms, from the unadulterated glass, then drank a little more. I was very conscious of Ian’s eyes on me. Was it my imagination, or did he glance at his watch from time to time? The minicab seemed to be taking forever.
Then I heard my name.
“I’ll just take that call. Be right back,” I exclaimed in as bright a tone as I could muster.
Threading my way through the tables, my legs felt shaky. At Reception, I asked the cab driver to wait, fled to my room and threw my things into the case, then ran back down. I told the receptionist to inform my party that I had been called back to London, and stepped out into the balmy evening air.
The mini cab wheels scrunched on the gravel, and we drove away. The driver was inclined to chatter, but I couldn’t concentrate. After a while, I feigned a headache, and we drove in silence until we reached the outskirts of the city.
My mind was reeling as I contemplated the horror I had so narrowly avoided. I pictured myself in the bar, suddenly swaying, stumbling, a helpful Ian - “Poor Eithne’s not well, I’ll take her to her room” - the pocketing of the room key, the return later on to plunder a body incapable of resistance, unlikely to remember what had occurred or who had been there.
It seemed horribly cruel to me. I wondered whether the barman was mistaken. I hoped he had been. Ruthless though I knew Ian to be, I did not want to believe him capable of such a callous act.
The cab fee was extortionate, but I didn’t care. I stumbled up the steps to the flat, stabbing at the locks with my keys, until, thank God, I was standing in the hallway, with my astonished mother blinking in the light.
“Eithne? What on earth are you doing back home?”
“Nicholas - where is he?”
I pushed past her into my bedroom, where the sleeping form of my baby lay humped in his cot. Snatching him up, I hugged him to my chest. The poor little chap whimpered once or twice, then settled down against me. I rained kisses on his damp, dark head.
“Darling…whatever is the matter?”
My mother looked worried now. I said, urgently,
“Put the chain on - don’t let anyone in, don’t answer the phone - or if you do, say I’m not here.” Then my legs gave way, and I sank on to the bed.
“Hot sweet tea - that’s what you need. You’ve had a shock.”
My mother disappeared into the kitchen, while I continued to hug my precious child. By the time she returned with the mug, I was more in control of myself.
“Let me put Nicholas back in his cot, you’re only disturbing him now,” she said. Reluctantly, I handed over the little body, and watched while she laid him gently down, and replaced his duvet. I took a huge swig of tea, and felt better for its warmth.
“Now, let’s go into the sitting room, and let Nicholas get back to sleep.”
The curtains were undrawn, and bright lights danced on the water below us. I flopped on to the sofa.
“Mum - I can’t tell you just at the moment - not until I’ve had time to think. I’m okay, nothing has happened to me, but there was nearly a nasty incident.”
Her eyes were asking me to tell her more, but it wasn’t possible.
“I think I’m going to have to leave work. Would you and dad have us for a while, if I can’t get another job?”
“Need you ask? Of course we will, but why must you leave Mackerras Mackay? I thought you loved it there.”
“I can’t explain, but it’s to do with Ian...”
“Ian? Surely that’s all in the past?”
“It is - but he seems to have it in for me.”
My eyelids were drooping, it had been a long day, and a terrible evening.
“Bed for you. You’ll feel better in the morning, and then we can talk properly,” decreed my mother.
I slept like a dead thing, as I undoubtedly would have slept at the hotel if I had ingested the drug intended for me. But in the morning, I could not bring myself to talk about the night before. I sat, hugging a bemused Nicholas, feeling a total wreck.
The telephone rang. My mother answered it, and I heard her converse with whoever was on the other end. She came in afterwards, and said
“That was Peter. He’s in town, and wanted to know if he could pop in and see you both.”
“I hope you said no,” I sniffed.
“I said yes. Perhaps he can shake you out of this, whatever it is.”
Eventually I managed to wash and dress, and ate a little soup for lunch. I still felt shaken by the unexpected turn of events, I kept thinking about what might have happened to me.
Peter arrived about two o’clock. He looked upset when he saw me on the sofa, clutching a fretful Nicholas, whose routine had been disturbed by his agitated mother.
”Leave Nicholas with your mother, Eithne, and come for a walk with me,” he said firmly. I started to say no, then thought I might be able to ask him what to do. I knew I could trust him, whatever was involved.
It was a cloudy day, but I felt better as I breathed in the fresh air. The riverbank was colourful with Saturday strollers, and life began to look more normal. I took Peter’s arm.
“What are you doing in town on a Saturday?” I asked him.
“I’m flying to Copenhagen on business later on.”
He looked at me, frowning, and I noticed how his denim shirt brought out the blue of his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Eithne? Something’s very wrong, won’t you let me see if I can help?”
As we strolled by the river, I told him haltingly of all the difficulties Ian had caused me at work, and he began to look grim. He looked grimmer still when I managed to stammer out the events of the evening before.
“But that’s terrible, Eithne - he can’t be allowed to get away with that, you must go to the Police.”
“How can I prove it? It would be his word against the bartender, there’s no evidence now. And the man wasn’t absolutely sure......now I think about it, I’m afraid I may have over-reacted, it might all have been a terrible mistake.”
I didn’t like to say that Will’s words in the pub had made me hypersensitive about Ian’s intentions.
“But what about Mackerras Mackay? Surely there’s someone you can talk to about all this?”
“Ian is Mackerras Mackay at present,” I explained. “Rob is in New York, Robin’s in hospital, Charlie Mackay doesn’t get involved in personnel issues, and anyway, who would believe me? I can hardly believe it myself. Basically, I’m stuffed.”
I stopped, and gazed despairingly into the water. The river looked almost oily today, snaking along with a deceptive aura of calm.
“I’m so angry!” I burst out. “I’m so angry with Nick - for leaving me to deal with all this, and the baby too. Why did he have to go to Angola? He could have got out of it, but he only ever did what he wanted to do. I never knew things would be so hard.”
Peter looked down at me, concerned, he put an arm round my shoulders.
“I’m furious with him, for leaving me, for not taking better care of himself, for getting himself killed, but then I feel terribly guilty
because it isn’t darling Nick’s fault he’s not here. I’m just so tired of trying to cope with it all - I hardly ever see Nicholas, work is a nightmare, and Ian’s the last straw, somehow.”
I burst into shattering sobs, and Peter put his other arm around me. I cried and cried on his shoulder. It felt good to be held, to have someone there to understand. I cried for what seemed like ages, and then I couldn’t cry any more, and groped in my bag for some tissues.
“Oh God. Your shirt’s all wet, I’m so sorry, Peter,” I stammered, as I disengaged myself.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Peter seemed to be deep in thought. I added, with a forced attempt at humour,
“I’ll just have to go home and fulfil the parents’ worst nightmare - unmarried mum and baby. Perhaps it’s not quite so shaming at twenty eight as it would have been at eighteen.”
He didn’t appear to be listening. His face looked particularly stern and austere, and I hoped he was not condemning me for my earlier outburst. We reached a bench, and he pulled me down to sit next to him.
“Eithne - all this has precipitated something I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his face still very serious. I thought to myself “He isn’t able to come to London any more,” and felt terribly cast down.
“It’s a bit soon, but I think it needs to be said now.”
He looked at me, blue eyes thoughtful and solemn.
“I would like to ask you to marry me, Eithne,” he said, very formally. “You need someone to look after you, and Nicholas is getting to the age when he needs a father.”
I was so surprised, I could hardly breathe. The remnant of a sob shook me, and he stroked my cheek.
“I know I can’t replace Nick - I wouldn’t try to - but I think we could be happy together. Don’t forget I’ve had a bad experience too, it would be starting over for both of us.”
Peter took my tearstained face in his hands, and smiled ruefully, as if remembering something from our past.
“You know I’ve always liked you, do you think you could bring yourself to care for me enough to make a go of it? I can offer you a good home, you can give your notice in and not have to worry about Ian and work any more. I would have waited - I know Nick’s not been dead a year yet - but events seem to have overtaken us.”
Then, seeing as I was still dumbstruck, he added,
“Nick was one of my oldest friends, we started at the same school before we were five years old. Together, we can ensure that Nicholas gets to know his father, even if he’s no longer here.”
That brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I tried to restrain them.
“I don’t expect an answer today, but promise me you’ll think about it, and when I’m back from Copenhagen, we can talk some more.”
He consulted his watch, his face tightened.
“I’m so sorry, I must get to the airport.” He looked at me anxiously. “Say something, Eithne - at least tell me I’m not out of line here.”
I was finding it hard to talk, but I took his hand and squeezed it. He was such a dear. I remembered all his past kindnesses to me. I didn’t want him to take me on out of pity. But I was very grateful to him for being there, and I had to let him know that.
“Oh Peter, I don’t know what to say.” I murmured. “You’re so kind. It’s too much to ask you to saddle yourself with someone else’s child, and a woman with a heart still in pieces. You could do much better for yourself, but I’m grateful to you just for being here.”
He pulled me to my feet, he looked at me directly with his blue gaze.
“Grateful ........ Eithne darling, don’t you know it’s what I want?”
He kissed me very gently on the lips, and held me closely to him. I could feel his heart beating, and his embrace was warm and reassuring.
“You need to think it over when you’re feeling calmer. Let’s talk about it next week,” he said.
He took my hand, and we walked in silence back to the flat, where he collected his case. On the steps, he said to me
“Please try to find someone at work you trust to deal with this stuff about Ian. If you have any more worries, just leave. I‘ll be there for you.”
He hugged me briefly, and then he was gone. I went slowly back inside. Although I felt better, I had no idea what I should do. I knew one thing; I could not tell my mother what had occurred. I did not want to raise any false hopes in her regarding the possibility of a husband for her unhappy daughter.
Chapter 31
On the way to work on Monday, I debated who, if anyone, I could trust with my concerns. I knew Will would be sympathetic, but he was too junior to be able to do anything to help. There were two other group account directors, but both were relatively recent recruits to the agency, and I didn’t really know either of them.
Once at work, I wandered up to the Creative floor, and into Charlie Mackay’s office. He was sitting at his desk, sketching a layout with bold strokes, humming to himself. He looked up.
”Morning, Eithne. I think you’ll be pleased with the storyboard for the Luna Sparkles relaunch. Is that why you’re here?”
“Not really, just saying hello,” I said. “Do you have any idea when Rob will come back from the States?”
He looked surprised.
“Isn’t Ian the person to ask about that?”
“Well - Ian gives me a pretty hard time these days,” I said carefully.
Charlie stopped drawing, and gave me a keen glance.
“You know who’s to blame for that.”
“I suppose so - but he’s married now, he has a child, he must be over it. I don’t think he hassles his other exes. It’s making life very difficult.”
Charlie laughed.
“I expect he dumped all the others, Eithne, you’re the only one who turned the tables. I’m afraid with someone like Ian, he’s not likely to forgive and forget. He’s as tough as they come, that’s why he’s so good at his job.”
He frowned at his drawing.
“Are you saying you want to leave us? It might be the best thing for you. After the trauma you’ve had in the last year, I should think you’d be better off starting again all round. Change of house, change of job, maybe even country. I’ve found I can’t move on after a crisis unless I take some pretty big steps, and that means taking a long hard look at what you want out of life.”
I considered his words. Perhaps he was right. I was beginning to be tired of London, the daily commute, the problems awaiting me at the office, even the flat where Nick and I had been so happy now offered little in the way of consolation. There were so many reminders of what had been, and was no more.
“I’ll need to think about it,” I said slowly. “I’ve loved working here, but things aren’t the same as they used to be.”
“Chin up...” he said absently, he had already turned his attention back to his work.
Back in my office, there was a note from Ian, asking me to explain my abrupt departure on Friday. I sat down with Guy and Will for our Monday progress meeting, made one or two calls, and nerved myself to walk down the corridor to his office.
His door was open. As I stood in the doorway, inside, Ian was sitting on the edge of his desk, leaning forward to talk intimately to a girl whom I recognised as a new account manager. She was attractive, with a slim figure and long, straight dark hair, and they seemed to be sharing some sort of private conversation.
Ian caught sight of me, and he straightened up abruptly. The girl - her name was Annabel - stood up, blushing. Ian said
“We’ll discuss this later on then,” and she left the office, giving me a self-conscious little smile on her way out.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say “I expect Paris looks very nice at this time of year,” but I restrained the impulse. I think he would have slapped me. However, I was pleased to have witnessed this scene. It occurred to me that he had an Achilles heel, and I felt some of my cares roll away as a result.
“Sorry about Friday. The baby wasn’t well,
and I wanted to get back to him,” I lied.
“You might have come and told us, we were concerned about you,” Ian said. “I thought perhaps you’d been taken ill.”
Did he have any reason for thinking that?
“I did leave a message with the hotel reception, perhaps they didn’t pass it on properly.”
He looked at me suspiciously. I returned his gaze and wondered what had been the truth about that dramatic evening.
“It didn’t go down very well with the rest of the team,” he said.
Charlie’s words were still fresh in my mind. Perhaps big steps would be needed, in any case, I felt disinclined to worry so much about what Ian could do to hurt me at work. I turned to go.
“That’s too bad. I had to do what I thought was best,” I told him. For once, he did not challenge me, and I walked away feeling I had won this particular round.
I thought about Peter continually. My first impulse had been to dismiss his proposal as a chivalrous gesture, but then, I began to wonder whether we might be able to make a future together. I knew my parents would be ecstatic, and it would relieve them of a lot of worry. I knew it would be good for Nicholas to have a stable male presence in his life, however, I was very fond of Peter, and I did not want to go to him if I was not sure that I could give him what he wanted, and what he undoubtedly deserved. I hardly considered what might be best from my own point of view. Perhaps I did not know.
On Friday, I was going out for a sandwich at lunchtime, when my phone rang.
“Eithne?”
It was Sue from Reception. “I have a Sofia Kinski here, she wants to know if you’re free to see her.”
Sofia…. I had not seen or heard of her for some years, and was intrigued at the thought of our paths crossing again in this unlikely way. Grabbing my coat and bag, I rushed downstairs. She still looked like an exotic bird of paradise, in a brightly coloured coat. Her black hair fanned out on to her shoulders, her lips were scarlet and her eyes kohl rimmed just as in her Oxford days.
From The Moment I Saw Him .... Page 23
