The Society Game

by H. Lanfermeijer

  ‘Aah, leave the cold behind and join us,’ James generously offered.

  Mark cocked his head at James. ‘It’s so tempting, honestly James. I could think of nothing better than to stay in the warm with you and this gorgeous lady but unfortunately, I have a rugby tournament to train for. So, as I said, thank you, Jim, but I said no.’

  ‘Er James… and okay.’

  Mark nodded and he returned to join his friends who were also preparing to leave for, I assumed, a rugby training session in the snow.

  ‘Wow, you couldn’t mistake him for a ray of sunshine, I’m even feeling sorry for Tatiana now,’ quipped James.

  ‘Don’t say that. He’s just got commitments. I admire that sort of drive and determination in a person and Tatiana doesn’t deserve him.’

  ‘Steer clear Olive. He’s interested in himself only and trust me, from what I’ve seen, Tatiana and Mark deserve each other; it’s the order of things.’

  We left the pub soon afterwards as I was irritated by James and James was too hungry to soothe my upcoming tantrum towards him. I was not interested in having lunch so we parted and I left for the cold walk to the station. It was not far and I wanted to enjoy the crisp winter’s day snuggled in my cream goose-down ski jacket. Part of my journey took me along the Thames river path and as soon as I was walking along it I heard the fast paced sound of running boots. Instinctively I turned to face a potential attacker but instead Mark was running to catch me up.

  His breath was frosted as if he was smoking one of his cigars. His black sports jacket collar was turned up around his neck, but the very tip of his ears were red as they were the only part exposed to the chilling air. He smiled and tried to catch his breath before saying in a hurried manner, ‘I waited for you to leave and only saw your friend go, on his own, I then looked all around and finally spied you walking along the river so I chased down towards you, which is not easy as this path is icy. I almost fell twice.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, this is just a prettier way home and my friend James prefers any homeward path that takes him via a burger van.’ I smiled away my nervous joke which had by-passed Mark.

  ‘I’m surprised he let you walk alone… but I’m here now.’

  Together we walked along the Thames path. The sun shone as brightly as the snow on the ground and I watched his frosty breath dance as he talked to me about his life. He seemed to relax and on a couple of occasions laughed with me about my escapades with various customers.

  ‘…Honestly Mark, I can tell the nationality of the person by the way they ask for things or complain about London; for example, an American will always tell me that everything is done so much better in the United States of America, anyone from the Middle East tells me they know my boss so that I give them a bigger discount and anyone from Britain will moan – but would never complain – I could be showing them a ripped rug and they would tell me it’s delightful but behind my back moan to each other how awful it is!’

  ‘Ever thought about the diplomatic service? Not sure I could do your job – being polite to ignorant people isn’t my thing… ‘Madam, do you want this rug or not? If not then leave my department’. Do you ever get fed up with these people?’

  ‘Not really, in fact it’s part of my job I really enjoy. I get to meet so many interesting people and I just love people-watching and observing their joy in finding the perfect rug for them bought in a quintessential English store, and I’m part of that. I doubt they remember me when they step on their living room rug but maybe, just maybe, they do.’

  ‘Oh, they’d remember you Olive.’

  As we approached the entrance to the underground station for the final part of my journey home Mark turned to me.

  ‘Do you mind if I don’t take you to your front door and just to the station? I’m sure you know that I’m not with Tatiana any more. She was just hard work and… well, listen to your friends’ version first but bear in mind that sometimes it’s just not meant to be.

  Afterwards, if you don’t want to lynch me then maybe we could see each other again?’

  He looked down at his feet then looked back to me, once more looking through my eyes.

  ‘You make me happy. I like you Red.’

  On the train home my phone buzzed as soon as I left the underground for the overground section of my journey. He had texted me three times:

  ‘I want to see you again.’

  ‘Let me know when you are free as I can’t stop thinking about you.’

  ‘Remember to let me know you are home as you agreed.’

  All three messages twirled my stomach into excited knots and froze my brain to think only about him.

  For the next few months I met him in secret. He took me to rooftop restaurants, to restaurants in London parks, to restaurants that were only lit by candlelight. We met on his lunch breaks and we met after work – just to ‘brighten his day.’

  ‘Tell me what you’re up to today,’ he would begin with at our morning phone call. I was usually in bed when he asked this and he was usually just out from a breakfast meeting having been at work for at least an hour.

  ‘You ask that every morning.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry but I just like to picture you in my head, what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, who you’re seeing. Silly really but it makes me feel I’m with you.’

  ‘That’s sweet. Well it’s Tuesday so it’s a late shift. I’m not due in until midday so I’ll eventually get up.’

  ‘Get up? it’s 8.40am, I’ve been up since five! Get out of bed lazy lady!’

  ‘As I said at some point I’ll get up, go to work. Probably have my dinner break about five. I’m due to see James today for my break so…’

  ‘No, no, no, you’re my girl. I’ve not seen you since yesterday and that was only for a thirty-two-minute lunch break – not that I’m counting. No, tell James a rug emergency has loomed and you have to fly out to rugs-R-us world to sort it out. Then meet me and I’ll take you to Quaglino’s for cocktails…’

  ‘Mmmm, working til eight with a thirty-minute break but nice idea. Sorry, but I promised James. How about after work?’

  ‘Busy – I can only do five.’

  ‘Mark don’t be like that. Yesterday you said you weren’t free all day so I made plans.’

  ‘Gotta go. Meeting in five. I’ll see you sometime.’

  I put the phone down and felt too agitated to stay in bed. This agitation morphed to anger by the time I got to work.

  ‘This isn’t the first time he’s done this. He’s like a sulky child sometimes, always wanting his own way and to hell with anyone else,’ I said to Sally, a friend who worked in the next department from me. I had paused there just to vent to her before I went into my department. That way I was calm before I met my manager.

  ‘Well, personally, he sounds a handful, wants you at his convenience not yours, doesn’t want you to tell anyone you’re seeing him – weird Olivia, as it’s been three months.’

  ‘We’re trying to be kind to Tatiana, my flatmate.’

  ‘Typical bloke, all about them. Men just want it their way or no way.’

  ‘How’s Jon?’

  ‘Tosser – our fifth anniversary on Friday. I’m not going to mention it just to see if he forgets, then about 8pm I’ll present him with a card and a sad face and watch him squirm. Might even get a present just to rub it in. Tosser.’

  I walked on to my department. Clive had his head in the books but looked up at me then pointed over to the staff cupboard which was rammed full of roses of every shade of red and pink.

  I creeked open the door and the intense sweet rose scent filled my nose and down my throat. One small card poked its tiny head from one of the blooms.

  ‘Sorry Red. I’m grumpy when I’m not around you. May I take you out tonight as you suggested?’

  ‘Aah how sweet!’ squealed Sal
ly ‘Look everyone he’s bought her like a billion roses!’ She shouted out to my department. Then in my ear she whispered, ‘Take it from me, he’s a keeper!’

  ‘Yes, yes he is,’ I smiled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The time leading up to my diving holiday was spent in my staff cubby hole in earnest pursuit to pay James back before we left. As the time approached it was clear this wasn’t going to happen as my shopping list to fill my suitcase ate away the money I owed him.

  ‘James, sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I still owe you £98 plus the taxi fare to the airport, whatever that maybe…’

  ‘…and back.’

  ‘…oh yes and back..’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Olive, I’m not in any rush,’ James said on the phone one morning.

  ‘That’s a relief as unfortunately my landlord is in a rush for the rent and so is Mr Credit Card who is insisting I also pay him back. James, everyone wants a piece of me but my bank balance is as thin as a used Rizla paper.’

  ‘You sound like you’re at work. Having fun?’

  ‘As always. Month’s-end figures need to be done and Clive said, other than himself, I’m the only other person he can count on to do them – hark me, guess this time next year I’ll be ruler and chief of this store.’

  ‘Ha ha, then we’ll all be on the staff discount list!’

  ‘Of course! Anyway, being in charge makes a change as usually all I’m in charge of is making my own coffee! Hang on, I think that’s Mark?’

  ‘Shall I book the taxi for ten? The flight isn’t until two – I think.’

  ‘It is Mark, it is!’

  ‘That gives us about an hour to get there, plus check in.’

  ‘Aah, how sweet, he’s looking for me. I think I’ll just watch him look. Ooh! Now my phone is beeping.’

  ‘Olive, 10am?’

  ‘“Where are you?” it says. Ten is great. Gotta go. Luv ya.’

  I opened the door just as Mark was staring blankly at the counter.

  ‘Ta da!’

  ‘Wow, what are you doing in a cupboard?’ he said.

  ‘Stock taking.’

  ‘You’re actually sitting on a footstool.’

  ‘Helps me count! What can I do for you?’

  ‘Just needed to see you.’ He looked tired, his eyes were dragged down his face by his frown.

  ‘Work is crap. The project we’ve been working on and thought was complete isn’t. I don’t know, just needed to escape and see you.’

  ‘I’m here, I’m always here for you Mark. You know that.’

  In the corner of my eye I noticed my computer screen go blank; all the month’s figures had vanished. I leant back in to my cupboard, ‘ctrl-alt-delete, please work, please work,’ I whispered.

  ‘I need a break,’ said Mark.

  ‘Ctrl-alt-delete, why aren’t you working? A completely blank screen. Please come back!’

  Panic kicked my chest as I realised the whole stock figures for the entire year had disappeared into the ether above my head.

  ‘It’s fine Mark, please everything will be okay,’ I said whilst randomly tapping my key board.

  ‘Can I take you away this weekend? Paris. Just you and me. I did some research and I know you’re on leave next week – you may thank the indiscretions of your assistant – it’ll be the break I need and we’ll have the whole weekend, just you and me.’

  ‘Aah, I’m so sorry Mark, that sounds amazing but I’m away on holiday. I did tell you; James, diving, booked before Christmas, remember? I’m really sorry but I can’t make this weekend because of it – can you see a bald-headed man behind you by any chance?’

  I edged my way around both Mark and his romantic offer in search for my manager who could claw back my figures.

  ‘Can you not cancel it? I really need you and I need a break. I think I’ve lost this project. I’m so stressed that I can’t breathe. Please, Olivia, I’m asking nicely.’

  ‘Erm, no, I can’t cancel, I can’t really. Don’t look like that, you’re making me feel sad too but it’s all paid for, sorry but… one second… Clive!’

  ‘Please, I’ll reimburse any money you’ve paid out. It’s been such a shit week and I really need you right now. Olivia, I can’t put this any other way, I need you.’

  ‘But it’s all arranged Mark.’

  ‘Again, I said I need you Olivia, can you not hear me? Please, I’m now begging you, just cancel it.’

  His voice had risen with each sentence and his soft eyes and hardened to a glare.

  ‘No Mark, I won’t cancel. Mark please don’t walk away, it’s all arranged… Clive can I grab you?’

  ‘I know it is Olivia, but as I said I need you far more than James,’ he said with deliberate force, ‘I admit I’d forgotten about your little trip. Please Olivia, this weekend to Paris is actually all arranged, I mean that. I wanted it to be a surprise. We are staying at Le Grand on the River Seine, we will be dining at l’Auberge and we will enjoy all the romance Paris can throw our way. I really want to show you how much you mean to me, but if you don’t feel the same then well, let’s just say, I get it.’

  Mark leant in closer and said, ‘Maybe I’m not what you’re looking for but I have a feeling you’re everything I want. You’re beautiful, sweet and you understand me. I know you do. I suppose what I’m trying to say is: come away with me to Paris. I need you, James does not.’

  Clive was at my side by the time Mark had finished his corporate speech. He walked away leaving me with questions of priorities in my head. The first of which had to be a computer that needed a slap from my manager.

  Of course, I plumped for the romantic weekend away with Mark. The choice was easy, one made easier by a further phone call from Mark urging me to go away with him.

  Of course, James was amazed and bemused at my decision and I was sorry the moment I uttered the words that I wasn’t joining him. I resolved that I had at least fought for my holiday with him, but Mark is my partner and he had arranged this weekend just for me so why should I choose James over Mark?

  ‘You’ll receive a cheque directly from Mark, I promise, and it will be far more than you paid… look at it as spending money,’ I said to James.

  ‘It’s not the money I want to go away with but you! I’m sure Chris would be made up to jump into your seat so no need for your keeper’s cheque book – tell him I don’t want his money.’

  ‘Don’t be like that James. I know I’m being a shit right now but it’s not his fault, he just wants to treat me. He’s so unhappy at the moment. No, don’t huff at that, he really is. You should see him, he works so hard and any spare time he has is catching up with emails or making frantic phone calls because something has gone wrong and something about crisis meetings and…James – please look at me.’

  ‘Come on, the man who runs an empire in the sky is at crisis point and he then decides to go to Paris? Rubbish and you know it.’

  ‘He’s put a lot of effort into this weekend for me and it’ll be the first time we’ll have been away. I want this so much James. I know he’s the one for me and I have to invest time with him right now. He’s like a little lost lamb, stop groaning, he is and he really needs me. It makes me feel special that I can help him. He’s trying so hard.’

  ‘Get away, you’re telling me he organised a whole week-end conveniently on the week you’re supposed to be away! Well, if he did then, of course, that phone call to his secretary must’ve taken ages!’

  ‘I’m really sorry James. I can’t say any more – don’t look away, this isn’t my fault and we can go again anytime and…’

  James shook his head again and instead of his usual peck on my cheek he grabbed his duffle coat and strode out of our coffee shop without saying goodbye.

  Guilt for James? Of course. Excitement for a romantic weekend to Paris smothering my guilt away
into oblivion? Of course. (All answers start and end with an ‘of course’ – an easy deflection from responsibility.)

  Each day leading to the weekend I daydreamed about our trip. As I sat at work or at home in my armchair or lying in bed I indulged in watching what my imagination drew for this city: I could see tall Parisian buildings with Parisians cycling by. They all wore berets, some had garlic hanging around their necks but most were young women cycling with flowers in their front baskets. I watched Mark laugh with me along the River Seine and I watched him stare into my eyes over coffee and croissants at a Parisian café which overlooked a medieval square. I did not know where our hotel was as I had no idea of the geography of Paris but I imagined it to look directly over the Eiffel tower, the Louvre and the River Seine. I could hear his laughter but, essentially, I could hear Mark tell me timidly that he loved me, that he would treasure me all my life and that he was finally happy now he had found me.

  I packed Friday morning with all the new clothes that Mr Credit Card kindly lent to me on the understanding that one day I would pay him back.

  Mark was due to pick me up at 4.30pm and I was perched at the end of the yellow corduroy armchair eagerly waiting for the doorbell to ring so that I could rush into his arms and away we go. The pick-up time came and went and by 5.30 I was calling Mark as I knew our flight was at 7.50 from Heathrow. There was no answer and by 7.05 I finally received a text message from him.

  ‘Late due work. Paris not going to happen today. I’ll pick you up early for a morning flight instead. Sorry, sorry, sorry, but the crisis happened and work calls. I guarantee I’ll make it up to you. Just trust me.’

  I sank back into the armchair frustrated and angry and by 9pm I was in bed waiting for my alarm at 5am in anticipation for an early pickup.

  In the morning I returned to my perched position and waited for the doorbell to ring. By 7am I was texting Mark to ask what time I could expect him for our flight and indeed, what time was our flight? As the morning slipped by my story of a Parisian romance was being chiselled away. By 10am the morning stroll along the Seine followed by coffee in the square broke off. By lunch time I feared my lemon dress dinner date was going to be ripped out. I rang and texted Mark and by 12.15 I could feel tears dripping from my face taking with it the mascara I had applied so many hours ago. Finally, at 1.47 Mark answered his phone.