by Anna Jacobs
‘So have I. Friends now, eh?’ Once again he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.
Once again she wanted more.
She heard him power up his computer and started falling asleep to the faint rattle of his fingers on the keyboard.
She’d never expected to feel sorry for him, but she did.
The next day, while Jivan was out, she sat at the computer for the first time since her illness and spent an hour reading through and revising the last chapter she had written. She felt alive and happy for the first time in weeks, though still rather shaky physically.
She couldn’t even think about going back to work yet, and she was sure the doctor would agree.
When the doorbell rang, she exclaimed in annoyance, then automatically saved the file she was working on before going to look out of the peephole. Oh, no! Mike Larreter.
For a moment she thought of not answering, but she knew he would have seen her outline through the frosted glass panels. She opened the door but made no attempt to open the steel mesh security door. ‘What do you want, Mike?’
‘To see you.’
‘Why?’
‘To see if you’re all right.’
‘I’m OK. Getting better slowly. You know what ’flu’s like.’
‘Open the door and let me in, Jessica. We can’t talk like this.’
‘We have nothing to talk about that can’t be said when I get back to the office.’
He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. ‘I’m not going away till I’ve talked to you properly.’
‘Then you’ll have to stay there. This is the only way you’re going to see me.’ She could hear how sharp her voice was and felt the tension rising inside her. The fear, too. She wasn’t inviting him into her home, didn’t feel safe with him since his attempt to force her into love-making.
Then Jivan appeared, striding along the path towards her unit. Jessica closed her eyes in gratitude to whatever fate had sent him back at that precise moment.
He stopped and stared at Mike, then at her. ‘Is everything all right, Jessica?’
‘It is now you’re back.’ With him there, she was no longer afraid to open the door. ‘This is Mike Larreter. From work. Mike, this is Jivan Childering.’
The two men nodded, making no attempt to shake hands.
‘You’re supposed to be ill, not entertaining guests!’ Mike’s expression was tight and suspicious. ‘I really do need to talk to you.’
Reluctantly she let him inside.
Mike scowled at Jivan. ‘I need to see Jessica alone. About work.’
Jivan’s face was expressionless as he looked at her. She nodded reluctantly, in response to his unspoken question.
‘I’ll be in my room. You’ve only to call out if you need help.’
When he’d gone, Mike turned to her, his expression furious. ‘What the hell have you been saying to him about me?’
‘I haven’t told him anything but the truth.’
‘Is that writer fellow staying with you?’ His eyes narrowed and he studied her blushing face. ‘He is.’
‘None of your business.’
‘I think it is. You can’t be all that ill if you’re entertaining a lover.’
‘For heaven’s sake! Jivan’s a friend and fellow writer, not a lover.’
‘What’s he doing here, then? He doesn’t live in Perth. I’ve seen articles on him. He’s stinking rich and never settles anywhere for long. And he treated his wife really badly.’
He gestured around him. ‘You must be really good in bed if he’s putting up with a hovel like this!’
She would not be goaded. ‘Jivan’s in Perth for publicity sessions. Where he stays has nothing to do with you!’
‘No, but what you are doing has. I need you back at work ASAP, Jessica. The whole project’s stalled without you running it. No one else has your skills. You look well enough to come in, so I’ll expect you back tomorrow.’
She let go of her anger and shouted, ‘Well, you won’t get me back tomorrow! The doctor’s signed me off for the whole week and I have to see him again before I can return to work.’
‘That’s just crap and you know it!’
‘I know nothing of the sort!’ She fought against an urge to weep, but tears welled in her eyes involuntarily.
He took a deep breath and said through gritted teeth, as if he was having trouble controlling his temper, ‘Look, you’re putting the whole schedule out. Where’s your professional pride?’
‘I’ve been ill, Mike, really ill. Not just ’flu, but stress, if you must know – stress caused by work pressures. Senior management shouldn’t be so mean with staffing if they want this project finished quickly. I told you when we started that we’d be lucky to finish by the target date. I even put it in writing! And you agreed with me then, promised you’d try to get someone else to work with me. But you didn’t.’
Jivan appeared in the doorway. ‘Look, darling, I know you don’t like me to interfere, but I promised the doctor I’d see you took it easy.’ He came across and put his arm around her possessively.
Surprise kept her silent. Luckily, Mike was staring at Jivan, not at her, with a vicious look on his face. She decided to play along with Jivan, so leaned against him. ‘There’s no need for you to stay any longer, Mike. I shan’t change my mind. I doubt I’ll be back at work until the week after next.’
‘At the soonest,’ Jivan said.
‘I’ll bring disciplinary charges against you for this, you lazy bitch!’
Jivan let go of her and stepped forward. ‘I don’t like your language, Mr Larreter. Nor do I understand how someone can be disciplined for being ill.’
‘They can be disciplined for feigning illness and then using their sick leave for other things, like entertaining their latest lover!’
Jivan’s expression was a masterpiece of scorn. ‘I don’t exactly call it “entertaining” when someone lives here.’
Mike’s face turned an unpleasant purple-red. ‘You didn’t wait long to change lovers, did you?’ he threw at Jessica.
‘You and I were never lovers and you know it, Mike. I don’t think you know what l-love is.’ Her voice was shaking and she felt as if her legs wouldn’t hold her up for much longer.
Jivan muttered something under his breath, drew her over to the couch and sat her down gently. ‘Just when we were beginning to make some progress. Stay there.’ He stood up. ‘I think your unwelcome visitor is having trouble finding the door. Shall I help you out, Mr Larreter, or can you remember the way?’
The two men were roughly the same height, but suddenly the gentle friend who had looked after her for the past few days had turned into a menacing stranger. It was a side of him Jessica had only seen once before, on the Sally Mennon Show.
‘Don’t you threaten me!’ Mike blustered, but he started edging towards the door.
‘Why should I need to threaten you, Mr Larreter? I’m merely suggesting that you leave. Jessica’s ill. She can’t even cope with one visit from you, let alone come back to work.’
Mike glared at him for a moment longer, then turned abruptly and left. But the look he threw over his shoulder did not bode well for Jessica when she returned to her job.
Jivan was still frowning as he shut the door. ‘You can’t go back to work with that fellow, Jessica, but I don’t see why he should get away with his blackmail. Are you a member of a trade union?’
‘Well, yes. Barbara suggested I join. Why?’
‘I’ll call them for you. He’s harassing you. They’ll probably have an officer out here within the hour to check things out.’
‘Is that really necessary, Jivan? Look, I’ll just resign and – and then …’ Her voice wobbled and she couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘No, you won’t resign! Not yet, anyway. That way Larreter wins. And afterwards he’ll treat other people in the same way. Bullies need pulling up short. I learned that when I was very young.’
With bewildering speed, a union official,
Linda, turned up to see her. Jessica tried to explain what had happened, dissolved into tears and Linda made an emergency appointment with her doctor.
‘I’ll leave you in Linda’s care,’ Jivan said. ‘I have another appointment. You have my contact number if you need me. Don’t hesitate to use it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘Giving you all this trouble.’
‘You didn’t make the trouble, Mike did, and it’s my own choice to help a friend.’ He kissed her cheek, an impersonal brush of the lips, then left.
‘Is that the Jivan Childering?’ Linda asked in awed tones.
‘Yes.’
‘The writer?’ Still there was an echo of disbelief in her voice.
‘Yes.’
‘And he’s a friend of yours?’
‘Mmm.’ Jessica realised suddenly that Jivan really did feel like a friend now – a good friend. ‘I’m a writer, too, in my spare time.’
‘Wow!’
Later that day, after the doctor had confirmed that she was still unfit for work, the union contacted her department, and Bob Courcey, the Director responsible for their area, turned up to see her. He questioned her closely but gently about what had happened.
Linda stayed with them, interjecting quietly, but not displaying any aggression. Well, it would be hard to be aggressive with Bob. He was a large, gentle rock of a man, famous for never raising his voice, whatever the provocation.
Later, he phoned Jivan on his mobile to ask for details of Larreter’s threatening behaviour today. ‘It’s not that I disbelieve you, but it’s better to obtain all the facts first hand.’
Bob left shortly afterwards, assuring them both that the harassment would stop immediately. At the door, he clasped Jessica’s hand for a moment. ‘Why didn’t you come to me for help before? This overworking you has obviously been going on for some time.’
‘I … don’t like making a fuss.’
He pressed her hand then let it go. ‘You won’t be bothered by that man again, I promise you. In fact, you won’t have to work with him at all after you come back. I’ll make sure of that.’
He saw how troubled she was looking and added, ‘This isn’t a complete surprise to me, you know. Larreter’s always been rather cavalier in the way he uses staff. That’s why he didn’t get the promotion when he was on secondment. And why he will be sidelined with us from now on.’
When Bob had gone, Linda coaxed Jessica to lie down then left her to rest. The sickness certificate from the doctor now read two more weeks and Jessica supposed Mike would be reprimanded for being over-officious.
She lay, feeling exhausted, and began mentally drafting her resignation. If she had to wash dishes or work as a waitress to support herself, she would, but she wasn’t willing even to work in the same department as Mike Larreter.
She had never been this ill before in her whole life and it terrified her how long it was taking to recover.
What would she have done without Jivan?
She had a much better understanding now of her mother’s desperation to return to England. It was terrifying to be completely on your own, with no one to turn to, and because of her writing she hadn’t made strong networks of friends.
Should she go back to live in England?
No, she couldn’t bear that either. Her family wouldn’t say ‘told you so’ but they’d think it.
But what was she going to do?
She was still trying to work it out as she drifted off into a troubled doze.
Eleven
The next morning, Jessica woke up early. She felt a little lethargic, but her head was clear and she was ravenous. Jivan’s bedroom door was closed, so she tiptoed into the kitchen, quietly put on the kettle and some bread in the toaster. He must have got back late last night. She hadn’t heard him come in, though she’d tried to stay awake.
When the toast was ready, she turned round to get the butter and found him leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a strange expression on his face. ‘Oh, Jivan! You made me jump! Did I wake you?’
‘No. How are you feeling today?’
She smiled. ‘Hungry, as you can see.’
‘Not dizzy?’
‘A bit weak still, but my head’s clear.’
‘Good. Your eyes look brighter, too.’
‘Jivan, I—’
‘Jessica, I—’
They both broke off and then smiled at each other. The kettle came to the boil and bubbled on until it switched itself off.
When Jessica still didn’t move, Jivan reached across her towards the jar of tea bags. ‘Why don’t you go and sit down? I’ll make the tea. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you after breakfast.’
‘All right.’ They were both in their night clothes, and she felt suddenly shy. She concentrated on spreading jam carefully into every corner of the golden toast, then was suddenly unable to resist taking a huge bite, and another.
‘You seem hungry. That’s a good sign.’
She paused with the toast halfway to her mouth. ‘Aren’t you going to eat anything, Jivan?’
‘Later.’ He stared into his cup, frowning as if something was worrying him.
She wondered if he had to leave and was trying to tell her so gently. He did, after all, have his own life to think about, and another book to write. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not wrong, exactly, but I do have one or two concerns I’d like to share with you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘My mother is one of my concerns. She’s pressing hard for me to visit her in America.’
‘Oh?’ Jessica tried to keep her tone non-committal.
He swirled the tea round in his mug. ‘I can’t do that just now. Anyway, I’m not close to her, though I get on all right with my half-brothers. Well, who wouldn’t? They’re pleasant guys who’ve had everything easy. They found nice women to marry and have charming children. Thomas, the older one, will inherit the family estate and currently manages it for his father, who’s had a minor stroke. Lucas, the younger one, is a lawyer, a partner in a nearby practice. They’re inseparable, as you’d expect from twins.’
‘Why is your mother so eager for you to visit her?’
‘She’s what you’d call a socialite and desperately wants to be seen with her famous son – even though that son doesn’t enjoy her sort of social life. If she knew where I was living, she’d have descended on me here, I’m sure.’
‘Your family don’t know where you live?’
‘No one does, except my agent and editor. Emil manages my interface with the world and has kept it hidden, and Anna … Well, you’ve met her. She’s been more like an aunt than an editor to me.’
‘It sounds like the material for a novel to me, a story at the glitz end of the spectrum.’
‘You could write a very long novel about my life, but I doubt people would enjoy it.’ His voice was so low she had to strain to hear it as he added, ‘I don’t enjoy the recent complications, that’s for sure.’
‘Your wife?’
He nodded.
She couldn’t resist laying her hand on his. ‘I’m sorry.’
He took her hand, holding it in both of his, and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘I’m not asking for pity, Jessica. I know I’ve got problems now, but there were benefits to my upbringing as well, and in many ways, it’s made me what I am, a successful author.’
‘What about your biological father? Is he still alive?’
‘Oh, yes. He lives in India, where I’m sure he’s surrounded by luxury and servants. After he went back, he made a good marriage and had three children. It’s ironic, really. In England I was considered by some members of the family as too Indian to fit in, yet my Indian father hasn’t once tried to get in touch with me since he left England when I was nine. Perhaps I’m too English for him and his new family. My mother made sure I had a thoroughly English upbringing, but even she can’t change the colour of my skin and how I look.’
Clearly he found
this painful. ‘Perhaps you should try to find out how he really feels? If you haven’t been in touch, you’re only guessing. Why don’t you go and see him?’
‘No way. I don’t even know his address.’ He tried to laugh, but it was a failure, a sad little sound.
Jessica still had no idea of what Jivan wanted, but if he was going to ask a favour of her, any favour, she’d be more than happy to oblige. She owed him so much, didn’t know how she’d have managed without him this past week.
The doorbell went. ‘Damn!’ He stood up. ‘I’ll go.’
It was a courier with a letter, for which Jessica had to sign. When he’d gone, she came back to the table and sat looking at the departmental logo on the envelope. ‘I don’t want to open it, Jivan.’
‘Shall I open it for you?’
‘Would you? I know I’m being a coward, but I can’t help thinking that it might be from Mike and …’ Her voice trailed away.
He scanned the single page and then passed it to her. ‘Nothing to worry you. It’s not from him, but the CEO of your department, and a copy has gone to your union.’
She took the letter from him. It expressed regret that she had been upset in any way, due to an unfortunate misunderstanding (unspecified). The Director urged her to take as long as she needed to recover fully from her illness.
She looked up and smiled. ‘It’s from the Big Panjandrum – that’s what us lesser mortals call him, anyway. It’s an apology. He won’t be happy with Mike about this – and that’ll make Mike even angrier with me. Anyway, that won’t matter because I came to a decision last night. I’m going to resign and concentrate on my writing, for a few months at least. I’ll make do with the computer I’ve got, live very frugally and—’
He touched her lips very gently with the tip of one forefinger. ‘Let me say my piece first, then. I have a better suggestion – well, I think it’s better – and it may help you decide what to do.’
‘You won’t persuade me to stay on at work, whatever my rights are,’ she warned. Although his hands were now lying on the table again, she could still feel the soft, warm touch of his finger on her lips.
