A Wife On Paper

by Liz Fielding

  Right at the moment she yearned to go to him, put her arms around him and comfort him, as he’d comforted her yesterday when she’d practically thrown herself into his arms. When he’d backed off as quickly as decency allowed, she reminded herself.

  No. She’d keep all thoughts of comfort to herself. He despised her enough already without any suggestion that, in deep financial trouble, she was ready to throw herself at the nearest man with a fat wallet. Particularly not one she’d berated for his lack of feeling.

  ‘What’s the matter, Guy?’ she said, as he slammed the drawer shut. ‘Couldn’t you find what you were looking for?’

  At least she had the doubtful satisfaction of seeing him completely thrown for once. He hadn’t heard her let herself in and he visibly started as he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. Had the grace to look uncomfortable at being caught with his hands in Steven’s desk.

  ‘Steve wasn’t the greatest record keeper. I suspect that it was deliberate. That he didn’t want to know how far out on a limb he was.’ Then, ‘What time is it?’ he asked, raking his fingers through his hair before dragging his hands over his face.

  ‘Just after eight,’ she told him, trying not to worry too much about the ‘out on a limb’ remark. ‘Would you care to explain how you got in?’

  Even as she said it, she saw the bunch of keys lying on the desk. She reached out and picked them up before he realised what she was going to do. Beating him to them by a heartbeat. But then he did look as if he hadn’t slept all night.

  She held them up, letting them dangle from her finger, looking at them as if they were a strange and foreign object. ‘Where did you get these? Did Tom Palmer give them to you? I thought the company belonged to me now.’

  ‘It does,’ he replied wearily. ‘Tom didn’t give them to me.’

  She waited, but since he didn’t enlighten her she said, ‘So? Did you help yourself to them from Steven’s briefcase? Take a unilateral decision not to disturb the little lady’s dusty brain cells? Expect her to be able to think for herself…’

  ‘No. You don’t—’

  ‘What? Understand?’

  This time he didn’t even bother to try to explain.

  ‘What, Guy? Are you telling me it’s worse than that? How could it be any worse?’ On second thoughts, that wasn’t such a stretch either. ‘Don’t tell me Steven didn’t own this place, either?’ And, when he didn’t answer, ‘Oh, great. Were you underwriting his business too?’

  ‘No. I helped him with the lease when he needed somewhere. Just to get him started.’

  ‘So it was all talk? Not just the house, but the business too? Steven was a man of straw and you were his prop and mainstay. Why did you walk away from him?’

  ‘He didn’t need me any more, Francesca. Married or not, he had you and he didn’t need me around. I told you.’

  ‘Yes, you told me. But what about him? How did he feel about that?’

  ‘Oh, rest assured, he was completely happy about it.’

  That stopped her. She didn’t ask why. Didn’t want to believe that Steven had seen that split second reaction, that moment when she’d first set eyes on Guy Dymoke and seen a different future. An impossible future…

  A bit wobbly around the knees, she sank on to the secretary’s chair placed at an angle to the desk and for a moment or two all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears. The silence gathering.

  After what seemed like for ever, Guy finally said, ‘Is that it? Have you finished?’

  ‘What?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I interrupted you. You were telling me about the keys.’

  ‘Brian Hicks called me yesterday, asked me to come down and see him at the office.’

  Steven’s office manager? ‘How did he know your number? Why didn’t he phone me?’ Then, ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘It was late.’

  ‘I’m allowed out after dark, Guy. I mean, it’s not as if I’m a proper widow or anything—’

  ‘I thought you’d want to be with Toby,’ he said, cutting off her sarcasm. ‘I was going to talk to you this morning.’

  ‘It’s morning. I’m here. Talk to me.’

  ‘I met him at the reception. After the funeral. He seemed anxious about something so I gave him my card and told him to ring me if he needed any urgent decisions made.’

  ‘How cosy. Clearly it didn’t occur to either of you that I might actually want to be bothered. To know what was going on.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. He didn’t know what to do. He assumed you’d need some time to—’

  ‘To what? Grieve? I mourned Steven as I watched him die. All I can feel now is relief that he isn’t suffering any more. Now I have to think of Toby and Matty and Connie and the people who work here. All the people who are relying on me.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to worry about Mr Hicks. He gave me his keys and this.’ He pushed an envelope towards her. ‘It’s his resignation. He asked me to tell you that he’s sorry, but he’s found another job.’

  Shocked, she said, ‘So soon?’

  ‘He’d apparently been looking for some time.’

  It was just as well she was sitting down. ‘Would it be paranoid of me to suggest that the words “sinking ship” seem appropriate at this point? Not that I’m suggesting Brian is a rat.’ She realised that he was looking at her with concern and she straightened her back, forced herself to meet his gaze head on. ‘He has a family to consider. Did he say anything else?’

  ‘Apparently a couple of the staff were temps. He let them go last month. You appear to be left with Steven’s secretary—that would be the young woman in tears at the reception—?’

  ‘Claire. Yes, she was very upset. The poor girl had a terrible crush on Steven. She wasn’t his type and I told him off once for flirting with her. That it wasn’t kind…’ Then, realising that she’d implied a lot more than she’d said, she quickly went on, ‘He said it saved him paying her what she was actually worth.’

  Which, if possible, sounded even worse, and she bit her lip. Concentrated all her attention on the keys that were cutting into her palm she was holding on to them so tightly.

  ‘Brian Hicks,’ she said, coming back to the point. ‘He must be owed money. Salary, holiday entitlement. Until I’ve been to the bank…’

  ‘I paid him.’

  ‘Oh. Well, thank you. I’ll reimburse you, of course,’ she said, mentally crossing her fingers. She had no idea what the company finances were like.

  ‘It’s not necessary. We’re going to be partners, remember.’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t want Guy’s disturbing presence invading her life. Him being there every time she turned around. She’d had three years of feeling guilty because every time she closed her eyes…

  ‘It’s what Steve wanted. The dying wish of a man who loved you,’ he said. ‘It will make everything simpler, although I do intend to be a silent partner. In all aspects of the arrangement,’ he added.

  ‘You mean you don’t anticipate leaping into my bed with the same speed with which you’ve taken over my office?’

  ‘I somehow doubt that’s what Steve had in mind. I don’t suppose he imagined that you’d feel like leaping into anyone’s bed for some time.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. You’re the one who’s been lumbered with all of us. You should be getting angry, not me.’

  ‘I think you’ve got reason enough to be more than a touch irritated. I, at least, have gained a family.’ She looked up, surprised by something unexpected in his voice. A warmth… He was looking down at the notepad in front of him. ‘It would seem your staff now consists of Claire and a young lad who appears to be on some kind of work scheme.’

  ‘Jason,’ she said and, since he was keeping it businesslike, she did the same. ‘That will certainly cut the overheads.’ Then, ‘Tell me, in your search through Steven’s office, did you come across any good news?’

  ‘Not much. I went through everything with Brian b
efore he left. The company is still just about ticking over on repeat orders. You need new stock, though. And to take less money out the business for it to prosper and grow. I’ve laid it all out for you,’ he said, indicating the notepad, then sitting back in the big chair, seeming to fill it in a way that Steven never had. ‘One of the problems is that the company seems to have had no real focus. Steve imported anything that caught his eye and, to be honest, he didn’t always get it right. Too many times he’s had to sell on at a loss just to shift the goods. I suspect the bank will be disinclined to continue extending the overdraft in the present circumstances.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to convince them otherwise. Quickly.’

  ‘The sooner we tie up the loose ends, the better.’

  She didn’t ask what ‘loose ends’ he was referring to. Just said, ‘Is there any more bad news?’

  ‘Well, there’s the lease on this place.’

  Fran belatedly wished she hadn’t been quite so sarcastic about the lease. One look at his face made her wish that Guy did own it.

  ‘What about the lease?’

  ‘It expires in two months’ time. The rent increase being asked is going to be a problem unless business picks up quickly.’

  She couldn’t think of any response that would adequately convey the way she felt, so she said, ‘Not much good news, you said. That implies there is some.’

  ‘That depends on your point of view. You’ve got a store room filled with stock. Most of it has been there for years, by the look of it. It’ll give you something to practice your marketing skills on.’

  ‘You’re not going to stay around and help with that, too?’

  ‘That’s your line of expertise, Francesca. I have to get back to my own business. In fact, I’m grateful you tore up the tickets to St Lucia. A trip to the local register office will be far more convenient.’

  ‘Well, thanks. I needed that bit of good news. No house. No company premises. Just a load of old stock that Steven couldn’t sell and a cheap ten-minute wedding to keep the bank happy.’

  ‘Low-key was what I had in mind. I don’t imagine it will prove to be cheap,’ he replied. ‘Of course, if you’d like to throw a party to celebrate the occasion I’m sure Connie can manage a few of her more exciting sandwiches.’

  She flushed. ‘There isn’t going to be a wedding. Low-key or otherwise. I will not marry you just to keep a roof over my head!’

  ‘No, you’ll marry me to provide Toby with a roof over his head in accordance with his father’s dying wishes. Not forgetting your cousin and Mrs Constantinopoulos.’

  ‘You took the trouble to find out her name?’

  ‘I needed it for my company payroll. In the meantime you might get Jason to start on an inventory of stock so that you can sell it before it gets seized by creditors.’

  You?

  Her.

  He really was going to leave her to run it?

  ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘Yes. Those characters who were hassling you at the funeral. They weren’t after money. Apparently, Steve managed to persuade some Chinese cooperative into giving him sole rights to import all their goods for a year. Something to do with silk, I think. They’ve been buying it from him, but now that…’ He checked himself. ‘They represent another importing company who are prepared to pay you a substantial sum of money to take over the remainder of the option. I’ve been looking for it.’

  ‘Oh. Well, there was something in his briefcase that might have been it. It was written in Chinese characters. With a little chop mark. I thought I should get it translated.’

  ‘The sooner the better. Find out exactly what it’s worth before you part with it.’

  Silk. She liked the sound of that…

  Then, realising that she was still clutching the spare set of office keys, she dropped them into her bag. ‘You look exhausted, Guy. How long have you been here?’

  ‘Too long, but my body clock is shot to hell.’

  ‘You’re fortunate that it’s just your body clock that’s gone wrong,’ she said sharply, her apparent lack of sympathy a desperate bid to ignore something in his voice that tugged at the very core of her being. Being angry was the only way to keep her feelings at bay.

  His expression didn’t change but she could feel his reaction: it was almost physical, as if he’d been slapped.

  ‘In comparison with what happened to Steve, your own problems, it was tactless to even mention it.’

  ‘No!’ Immediately full of remorse she said, ‘I’m sorry, Guy. I’m not the only one who’s lost someone. I’m just…’ She didn’t know what she was feeling. A bit lost. Very confused. But mostly just empty, when everyone expected her to be racked with grief. It was as if her emotional core had been injected with Novocain and was completely numb. And, since the funeral, there had been so much else to worry about. ‘You should get some sleep,’ she said.

  ‘What about you? How are you managing?’

  ‘Keeping busy helps.’

  ‘Sufficiently to counteract the threat of bankruptcy, the risk of losing your home?’

  She reached out, put her hand over his. ‘Go home, Guy.’

  ‘Home?’ He withdrew his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if to stave off the tiredness. ‘I don’t have a home. I just have a barn of an apartment that I bought as an investment. Every luxury. No…warmth.’ Then, ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider having breakfast with me?’

  ‘At your luxurious but cold apartment?’ She forced a smile. ‘Are you sure you don’t mean will I cook it for you?’

  ‘I mean, will you come and have breakfast with me? As in, can I buy you breakfast? There must be somewhere nearby that can rustle up half a pint of espresso and a bacon sandwich two inches thick. For once in my life I can’t face the thought of eating alone.’

  She put the temptation to take him up on the invitation firmly behind her. ‘The last thing you need is espresso—’ the last thing he needed was to go home to an empty apartment ‘—and I really need to stay here and go through a few things before everyone arrives. But there’s no reason for you to be alone. Go to Elton Street. If Connie’s on your payroll I don’t see why she shouldn’t make you a bacon sandwich. As thick as you like. She can speak English, more or less, but she can’t read it very well. Did Matty tell you about her?’

  ‘She just suggested that the sandwiches might be a risk, although it’s hard to imagine how she could mess up on something that simple.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, it was just once. Anyone can make a mistake—’ She stopped. He didn’t want to hear about her domestic arrangements.

  ‘Where did you find her?’

  Apparently he did.

  ‘In the park, if you must know. I’d seen her feeding the ducks there. Talked to her. She’s Greek. Came here years ago to marry some café owner who used her as free labour until he left her with a mountain of bills she couldn’t pay and, terrified by debt collectors, she just packed what she could carry and ran away. She just spiralled downwards until she ended up in a hostel for the homeless. I knew I ought to do something about her but I didn’t know what. Then one day she just keeled over in front of me and I realised that I had known what to do all along. I’d just been putting it off.’

  ‘You took her home?’

  She could understand his astonishment. ‘Once bitten?’ she replied. ‘This was different, Guy.’

  ‘Yes. Of course it was. How did Steve take it?’

  ‘He understood that I couldn’t send her back to that horrible place,’ she said crisply, not wanting to remember how hard he’d tried to talk her into doing just that. How angry he’d been that she’d even been talking to some bag lady. Even angrier at her letting Toby talk to her. How irritated he’d been to discover that his ‘princess’ had a stubborn streak. They’d almost had a row. She’d almost felt alive. But then Matty had rather slyly pointed out that it was the kind of thing ‘princesses’ did… ‘All she needed was a home. To feel u
seful.’

  ‘That’s all?’ he said wryly.

  ‘Actually, she was—is—a huge help to Matty, and she’s wonderful with Toby. Look, I really think you should go home before your body decides it’s had enough and you bang your head on the desk as it shuts down.’

  ‘I’m touched by your concern.’

  ‘Bag ladies, stray dogs, jet-lagged males, they’re all the same to me. I’m a walking care centre.’

  ‘You have a rescue dog too? I seem to have missed that one.’

  ‘No. At least not for long. Steven came out in a rash. He said he was allergic. It was a spaniel.’ Damn! The bloody tears would catch her out… She might not have been in love with him, but she had loved him. She couldn’t have lived with him otherwise. And he was Toby’s father. ‘Anyway, that’s not my concern,’ she said briskly, refusing to give in to them. ‘What’s worrying me is that if you fall asleep in that chair I won’t be able to get into the desk. Did you come in your car?’

  ‘No, I left it at my office yesterday.’

  ‘Good. You’re in no fit state to be behind the wheel.’ She dug around in her bag for her front door key—which she laid on the desk in front of him—and a tissue, which she used to blow her nose. And wondered how much of his car Steven had owned. Whether she’d be able to use the money to ease finances a little. It was a company car so it would be hers. The papers must be here…

  ‘Should you be here at all?’ he asked, distracting her as he got up, came around the desk. ‘This would be tough for anyone.’

  His eyes were full of compassion, concern, and something else that she thought might be despair but was more likely exhaustion. She wanted to lay her hand against his cheek. To kiss his brow. To wrap her arms around him and hold him for a moment.

  Instead she said, ‘Of course I’ll cope.’ Then she looked at the tissue as if she’d just realised he thought she was crying. ‘Oh, this! This is just hay fever.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

  ‘Really. It’s the autumn kind. Brought on by chrysanthemums. It’s quite common, apparently.’ But she couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she said it. Instead she picked up the key and, taking his hand, she placed it in his palm. ‘Take a taxi, let yourself in. Connie will show you where you can crash out, and she’ll make you your bacon sandwich while you take a shower. Help yourself to Steven’s stuff if you want to shave,’ she said, then added, ‘Actually, you might be wiser to leave that until after you’ve slept. We can talk about the business later.’