by Susan Lewis
Bob buried his head in his hands. Her heart ached and she wanted to go to him. Instead she asked, “Would you like a drink? Some coffee? Something stronger?”
He shook his head, “No, nothing.”
She walked into the room, and sat down on the sofa. As the silence lengthened the feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach grew. Finally, he lifted his head from his hands and looked at her, but when he didn’t speak she said: “I was worried. I thought you might have called. It doesn’t matter,” she added, hurriedly, “you’re here now, and I can see that you’re all right.”
He got up from his chair. “Look, Ellamarie, we both know why I’m here, so let’s not pretend any more.”
Ellamarie didn’t answer. The cold hand that had been hovering around her heart for days was now beginning to close.
“The truth is, I can’t go on like this. I’ve got to get away. I need some time to think. Some time on my own.”
“I see.”
“For God’s sake, don’t sound like that. Don’t you know how difficult this is already?”
“What am I supposed to say?” she said, knowing that she was speaking to a stranger.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “And that’s the trouble. I don’t know anything any more.”
She had to ask him. “Does that mean that you don’t love me any more?”
“Look, I’ve just said I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t make a decision right now.”
“Have you told your wife?”
“Yes.”
“How did she take it?”
“How do you think she took it?”
Ellamarie turned away. So now she knew what it was like at the end. So often she had wondered, thought about the things he might say, but she had never dreamt that he would hurt her like this. She looked at him, barely hearing his words as they came across the room at her like knives achieving an easy target. His face was anguished as he told her that probably he did still love her, but he loved his wife too. OK, he knew he had lied, but he hadn’t meant to. He didn’t know how any of this had happened, but it had, and now he was sorry he was hurting her. He’d do anything he could to make it up to her. She could still play the pan of the Queen in the Famous Tragedy, they’d shoot round her pregnancy if it showed. And then she’d have the baby, and he’d give her money to help her look after it. But the way things were right now, he just had to get away.
Ellamarie stood up, swallowing hard against the pain that was threatening to engulf her. She moved around the room, not knowing where she was going or why, she just knew she had to move. Her fingers were trembling, clutching her throat.
“Your things,” she said finally. “Shall I help you to pack? I’ve got most of it ready.” She smiled at him, and the barrier he’d carefully tried to hold in place fell completely.
“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop behaving like this. Why don’t you cry? Stamp, shout, say something, but stop being so bloody noble.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she answered, her voice barely audible. “You see, I love you, Bob.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’m only going to spend some time on my own. The way you’re behaving anyone would think I was running out and deserting you.”
“Aren’t you?”
The blow to her cheek stunned them both. After a long moment she looked up into his eyes and saw that he was crying. She reached out for him, trying to take him in her arms, but he turned away. “Please, I don’t want you to touch me.” He walked away from her and stood in front of the fireplace, his hands pressed against the shelf, looking down into the ashes.
“You don’t have to hurt me like this,” she said, her voice shaking.
His face was stricken as he turned to her, but the phone rang at that moment preventing him from speaking. Ellamarie went to answer it. It was Kate.
As she listened while Kate told her that it was all over between her and Nick, Ellamarie watched Bob pace the room. It didn’t occur to her to end the telephone call, she had been too long a source of support and strength to her friends when they needed it. Once or twice Bob glanced up, as if he were waiting for her to finish. She looked back at him, barely listening to what Kate was saying. Her cheek still stung from the blow and unconsciously she was stroking it with her fingers. Suddenly he stopped pacing and turned to look at her. His face was a mask, and the eyes that had always looked at her with laughter and love were steely. He bent to pick up his coat. He didn’t look at her again, but walked past her and out through the door.
By the time Kate rang off the pain had become so intense it was threatening to choke her. She didn’t know what she had said to Kate. She looked across the room to the door. In the end, he had walked away. Quietly, with no backward glance, he had detached himself from her life. He hadn’t even said goodbye.
Normally Ashley walked to work, the brief half-hour alone in the mornings gave her time to think without interruption. But this morning, overwhelmed by lack of sleep, she flagged a passing taxi and collapsed into the back seat.
Her eyes were sore, and she rubbed her fingers against them. Her mind started to spin again. She had returned home in the early hours of the morning, after sitting up half the night with Nick in his room at the Waldorf. She couldn’t think about that now, she didn’t want to think about it ever. A bitter clench of nausea gripped at her stomach. She tried to shake it off, but it persisted.
She knew it wasn’t just the conversation that she had had with Nick, though God, that was bad enough.
Alex had been irritable when she’d left that morning, and Keith’s mood had only got worse since the scene they had had on Monday evening. She was tempted to go back home again, but looking at her watch she knew that she didn’t have time. They would be leaving for Boston about now, where they were spending the night with some distant relatives of Keith. Besides, Conrad had asked to see her at eleven thirty; he would know the results of yesterday’s meeting with David Burgess.
It was eleven o’clock when she walked into the IBM building. She knew she must try to reach Kate. She closed her eyes as she thought of her friend, and wondered what the hell she was going to do. But it couldn’t be true, no matter what Nick thought he had seen, it just simply couldn’t be true. She had to speak to Kate. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she had to find out the truth for herself.
As she walked into her office she told Jan that she was not to be disturbed and, closing the door behind her, she went straight to the telephone.
There was no reply from Kate’s flat. She let it ring and ring, willing Kate to answer, but it was no use. She didn’t want to ring her at her parents’ home, but there seemed no other way.
Kate’s mother answered the phone and Ashley apologised for ringing so early in the morning, but Kate wasn’t there either.
Replacing the receiver, Ashley buried her face in her hands. She must think. There must be something she could do. Did she dare tell Jenneen or Ellamarie? Nick had told her in confidence. But, Jesus Christ, they had to trust one another; if they didn’t, then it would be the end.
She picked up the phone again. She was aware that her voice was shaking as she told Jenneen all she knew. Jenneen was every bit as horrified as Ashley had been. “But it’s not true, Ash,” she said, when Ashley had finished, “you know it’s not true.”
“I hope you’re right, Jenn.”
“Jesus Christ, it can’t be. I must see her.”
“She’s not at home. I’ve tried.”
“Leave it with me,” Jenneen said. “I’ll find her.”
Ashley heaved a sigh of relief as she hung up. There was nothing more she could do, except pray that Jenneen was right, and that it wasn’t true.
She buzzed through to Jan to bring her some coffee, wishing that the feeling of impending disaster would go away. She rang her apartment. There was no reply; she hadn’t really expected one.
Jan came in with her coffee. “You’ve
been summoned.”
“Already?” said Ashley, looking at her watch. “Christ, it’s twenty to twelve. Why didn’t you remind me?”
“You asked not to be disturbed.” And then, looking a little sheepish, Jan said, “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Don’t worry,” Ashley smiled. She took several mouthfuls of coffee. “Oh well, here goes,” she said, “Mohammed to the Mountain again. Wish me luck, otherwise you might have a new boss before the week’s out.”
“Good luck,” said Jan. “And I don’t think so somehow.”
“He’s waiting for you,” said Candice, as Ashley walked into the outer office of the Chairman’s suite.
“What kind of mood is he in?”
Candice pulled a face.
“Oh God,” Ashley groaned. She knocked on Conrad’s door and let herself in, closing the door behind her.
Conrad looked up from his desk. “Come and sit down,” he said, waving her to the chair at the other side of his desk, and then turned his attention back to what he had been doing before she’d come in.
She sat down in the chair, and gazed out of the window. It was several minutes before she realised that he was watching her. “You’re looking a bit pale.” he said.
“I had a bad night, I’m afraid.”
“Worrying over the account?”
“Partly.”
Conrad smiled, and looking into his face Ashley felt her heart turn over. He was so strong, always in control, and she wondered what it would be like if she could turn to him at times like this, when she was feeling so bloody vulnerable and confused. His hands were resting on the desk in front of him, strong, capable hands, that had held her only once. If only she could reach out and touch them now, and draw some of their strength into her bones. She pushed the thought away quickly. It was because she was tired, she told herself. Conrad was watching her, and for one uneasy moment she thought he might have read her mind.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him, “to Mercer Burgess.”
Ashley felt her stomach begin to chum. She smiled. “To Mercer Burgess,” she repeated, in a quiet but steady voice.
“I spoke with David Burgess early this morning, and he’s given me his decision.”
Ashley looked into his face, but as ever, it was inscrutable.
“I’m afraid,” said Conrad, “that your pitch was not successful. They have turned it down.”
“What!” Ashley gasped.
“The decision was made late last night, as far as I’m aware.”
Ashley couldn’t speak. Her eyes began to dart about the room. This was impossible, she had been so sure they were going to accept. David Burgess had more or less told her so when they’d shown him the video at their meeting yesterday morning. They couldn’t have turned it down. But Conrad wouldn’t lie about something like that. Jesus Christ, it was as important to him as it was to her.
She looked back at him. “I see,” she said.
“I’m sorry.”
Her jaw was tight as she said: “Yes, I’m sure you are.”
He got up and started to walk round the desk.
She leapt to her feet. “Well, let’s make this quick, shall we? I’ll go and collect my things together now. I can be out of my office by the end of the day, although I can’t promise to be out of New York quite so quickly. Would the end of the week be acceptable to you?” She was already walking towards the door.
“Ashley, come and sit down.”
She turned back to face him, her eyes blazing. “Conrad, really, I’d rather not go over this. You made it perfectly clear when all this started, that if the presentation did not win through then you wanted me on the next plane back to London. Well, you’ve got your wish. I’m sorry that Mercer Burgess did not take us on, but I rather think that in the end that had nothing to do with whether or not I stayed. Now, if you will excuse me . . .”
“Sit down!” He barked rather than spoke the words.
She stopped with her hand resting on the door handle.
“Please,” he said. He leaned across the desk and buzzed through to Candice. “We’ll have coffee now, Candice.”
Ashley took a few steps away from the door. For the moment she was too angry to realise how hurt and disappointed she was. Or to admit how it was going to wrench at her heart to leave him, knowing that that was all he had wanted, almost from the very start. That she should go.
“I think I owe you an explanation,” he said, turning away from the desk. “I’d like you to stay and listen. Better still, it might help me a little if you were sitting down and not standing there looking like a bull getting ready to charge.”
Candice came in with the coffee and put the tray on Conrad’s desk. Ashley waited, tapping her foot, as Candice poured the coffee. She didn’t even manage to muster a smile when Candice handed her a cup as she left the office.
“Well,” said Ashley, “Let’s get it over with.”
“Ah, where to begin?” Conrad perched himself on the edge of his desk and sipped his coffee. Ashley watched him, but made no attempt to drink hers.
“I suppose,” he began, “that it all starts with Candida really.” He noticed how Ashley’s face darkened at the mention of Candida’s name and he couldn’t resist allowing himself a quick smile. “Unfortunately, when Candy discovered that you were coming to New York, she flew into what you English might call a fit of the pique.”
“Why on earth should she do that?”
Conrad shrugged. “What Candy does, Candy does for reasons best known to herself. But take it from me, she was not at all impressed by the idea of your coming here. In fact, I think I can go as far as to say, she was furious. And when Candida Rayne is furious, the whole of New York has to know about it. In this case, the victim of her fury was you. But not only you. She was furious with me too. And there is something you should know about Candy. There are very few people in this town who can afford to get on the wrong side of her, me included. So, I had to think of something, that, shall we say, would get us, and by us I mean Frazier, Nelmes, out of a situation where she might want to exercise her power over us.” And watching him sitting there, that arrogant smile on his face that she had hated and then loved, and now hated again, she felt the beginnings of a volcanic rage. She hated him for telling her about Candida. She hated him for wanting her to return to London. She hated him for smiling at her that way. And she hated him most of all for not knowing how much she loved him.
She took a deep breath, and with her head on one side, and her teeth clenched against her rising anger, she said: “So she is the reason, I suppose, that come what may, win or lose with Mercer Burgess, I had to be sent back to London. Candida, Candy,” she almost spat the name, “did not want me here.”
Conrad lifted an eyebrow, and began to smile. Ashley wanted either to cry, or to throw her coffee at him.
“You don’t see at all,” he said. “Did you know that Candy is the granddaughter of David Burgess?”
“Yes,” said Ashley, wishing that he would stop referring to Candida as Candy.
“There are three main accounts that keep this agency afloat,” Conrad continued. “David Burgess happens to be on the board of all three of those companies. Does that help to explain the situation?”
“I don’t think that explains anything,” said Ashley, deliberately being obtuse.
“All right, I’ll spell it out. David Burgess is extremely fond of his granddaughter. If Candy wants, then Candy gets, and David is almost always the one to deliver. If Candy had been so minded, she could have put this entire company in jeopardy. And with you around, she was very nearly so minded.”
Ashley shrugged. “So you’re sending me back to London to save the agency. Thanks for telling me, it helps,” and she turned towards the door.
“I’m not sending you anywhere,” said Conrad. “If you want to go back to London, then I’ll do everything I can to stop you, but in the end it’s your decision.”
Ashley’s hand froze on the door handle. “I beg your pardon?”
“David Burgess has offered you a job with any one of his companies you might choose. I turned the offer down on your behalf, I might add.”
“You did what?” she gasped.
“I said I thought you might wish to stay with Frazier, Nelmes. I hope I was right.”
Ashley was completely at a loss for words.
“You see,” Conrad went on, “the whole thing paid off in the end, as I hoped it would. After you had got such an impressive package together, which I was counting on your doing, I knew that David Burgess would want to meet you. It was the only way of keeping his business, and keeping you in New York too.”
“I’m still not with you,” Ashley said.
“The bottom line is, you impressed the hell out of the old man, and now even though he can’t give us the account this quarter, they are seriously considering it for next quarter, and he wants you to run it. Better still, he wants you to go and work for him, but as I told him, that was out of the question. So now, no matter what Candy has to say about it, you and Frazier, Nelmes are safe. The old man loves you, you’ve got him practically eating out of your hand.”
Ashley’s frown was puzzled. “So, who did get the account?”
“J.S. & A.”
“J.S. & A? But you saw what they were offering.”
“Yes,” said Conrad. “And by the way, it was you who took their file, I’ve since discovered. No, no,” he said, raising his hand as she made to interrupt him, “you didn’t know it. You picked it up with your own things the day you went to see Arthur Fellowman. He wasn’t in the least put out by it, in fact I think he looked on it more as a favour to me that I should see it. Probably trying to stop me from spending any more money than you already had.”
“So are you telling me that I don’t have to go back to London?”
“Not unless you want to.”
She shook her head.
“Good,” he said, sliding a hand into his pocket. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
