Let Me In

by Alison Keane

  “What’s wrong?” Steph asks.

  “Nothing. Just antsy.”

  “That’ll be the hangover,” she says, sipping on her coffee.

  I smile wistfully. If only the nervous feeling in my bones was purely hangover-related, but it’s not: I’ve felt it on and off for the past year and I haven’t even been drinking for most of that time.

  “What about you?” I ask to change the subject. “Have you met anyone since you moved here?” I feel a bit more comfortable asking about her love life now that I’ve been out with Nathan. In a way it feels like I’m a step removed from Mikey.

  Steph makes a face. “This is a small town. It seems like everybody our age is coupled up.”

  I roll my eyes, well aware of that. “What made you move here?” I ask before I can stop myself. It’s something I’ve often wondered. It’s silly really: anytime I’ve thought that when I’ve been with her I’ve stopped myself saying it, just in case she realises what a shit town this place is. I don’t want her to see that and move away.

  Her expression darkens. “Come on,” she says, reaching for her coat. “I’d best get to work.”

  All the way to her office, I try to think of a subtle way to ask her about her odd reaction to my question. I can’t think of one. Maybe that’s down to the fuzzy feeling in my head.

  I can’t wait for this day to be over: it hasn’t even started and I’m completely exhausted.

  When we reach Steph’s office, I turn to say goodbye to her and I’m almost bowled off the footpath. I jerk away in a panic from the unexpected physical contact and see it was a girl our age who shoved past me. She’s now stopped to talk to Steph.

  My cheeks burn. I recognise her from somewhere but I can’t think where. “You might want to watch where you’re going,” I snap. “I could have sprained my ankle if I’d fallen off the kerb just now.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Steph holds her hands up. “Trish this is my friend Ellie.” She turns to me. “Trish is our receptionist.”

  I glare at the girl. Her sharp features are set in a way that doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she doesn’t like me. Her lips twitch as though she’s dying to say something. “I’d best get into work,” she snaps.

  “Wow,” I say to Steph when the girl has gone inside. “She’s pretty rude. She almost knocked me over just now.”

  Steph smiles. “She’s a bit intense. I’d better get inside: busy day. I’ll call you later.”

  I watch her walk through the automatic door and turn in the same direction as that girl Trish. I clench my fists and force myself to walk away. How long until Trish tells Steph what she’s heard? I thought I was prepared for the day that Steph heard the rumours. Am I, though?

  I turn towards my office and almost collide with a woman in a gorgeous red coat.

  “Sorry,” I mutter automatically as I step out of the way.

  It’s only when the words are out of my mouth that my brain makes the connection. I know that coat. I helped her pick it. Katie. My former best friend.

  I stare at her as she breezes past me, not stopping or even acknowledging my existence. I want to shout after her, to take back my apology because she of all people certainly doesn’t deserve it.

  I say nothing—what good would it do?

  12

  Mikey

  Mikey’s phone buzzed in his locker. He dropped the towel he’d been using to dry himself and reached for it. He frowned when he saw it was a private number. Probably a journalist or PR. His finger hovered over the reject button for a few seconds, before he remembered the talk he’d had with management earlier in the week.

  Things were different now; his career was different. He’d been shooting for the top before—and it looked like he was going to make it. Then there’d been that big fuck-up and he’d had to go away for a while and keep a low profile until it all blew over.

  The message from the higher-ups had been very clear: suck up to the journalists and PRs. Build his profile by going out of his way to give soundbites or whatever they wanted. The unspoken implication was that the big clubs would be wary of him now. Word travelled fast and the last thing he wanted was to to be labelled as trouble.

  He sighed. He resented that. What happened wasn’t even his fault. But he wasn’t going to disobey a direct order. He was even more determined now to get where he wanted to be—and nobody was going to stop him from achieving that.

  Besides, who knew—maybe someone would offer him a sponsored holiday flying first class to the Maldives. It might be worth it in the long run.

  He grabbed a towel and hurried out of the changing room into the corridor. He didn’t want the other lads to hear this conversation.

  He cleared his throat and hit the answer button, remembering what Graham had said. Squeaky clean, alright? That’s the image I want you to put across. Help old ladies cross the road. I don’t care, Mikey. I won’t cover for you again.

  He hit the answer button. “Mikey speaking.”

  “Mikey.” The voice was female and she sounded rushed.

  He frowned. “Yes. Who’s this?”

  He became aware of the cold for the first time. He’d rushed out wearing nothing at all. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear as he wrapped his towel around his waist.

  “Look, you don’t know me.”

  His frown deepened. “Should I know you? Where are you calling from?”

  “Um…” she cleared her throat and paused, like she was unsure whether to answer. “My office.”

  Mikey rolled his eyes. Was this a prank? Had Graham put one of the girls from the office up to this, knowing that Mikey would feel obliged to stick it out in order to get back his good name at the club after so long away?

  But no. He didn’t think so. Not after the way Graham had looked at him in that strategy meeting.

  He shivered. It was freezing out there with the draughts blowing through—somebody always forgot to close the doors after them. “Is this some sort of prank? Because I’m busy.”

  She sighed. “No. No, it’s not. I know this seems weird—and I’ve spent the whole day going back and forth about whether to tell you this—but I think you should know.” She paused. “It’s about Ellie.”

  He didn’t have to ask what Ellie. He knew. There was only one Ellie as far as he was concerned. His pulse quickened. Hearing her name always had that effect on him. Her face flashed into his mind, a vision of laughter and loveliness before it morphed into something far darker. Ellie. He’d loved her so much, but she’d caused him so much trouble and almost cost him his career. He’d had a lot of time to think about her over the past few months and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about her now. Some days he cursed her name and everything she’d cost him. Other times he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Part of him thought he still loved her, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

  “What about her?” he snapped.

  What had she done now? He’d been away for months waiting for this thing to blow over. That should have been the end of it. He’d been back less than a week.

  “I saw her today. She was really aggressive.”

  Mikey massaged his forehead with his free hand. “Aggressive? What do you mean by that?” He sighed. “Who is this?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “I don’t want to make a big thing of this but I thought she was going to hit me. I was actually—”

  “What the hell do you want me to do about it?” he snapped. This wasn’t a journalist—it was a local crackpot. The only reason he hadn’t hung up yet was that something was niggling at him: what did she want? “And how did you even get this number?”

  “We have friends in common,” she said carefully. “And I’m just trying to help.”

  “Help? Ellie and I aren’t together anymore.”

  “Oh, I know that.” She said it with such certainty that it shocked him.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Like
I said, we have friends in common and I know you’re a good guy. I just—”

  He ended the call. What was her game? There was no point in asking because she’d never have admitted it. Was she just one of those rugby groupies who hung around the lads on nights out? Or was there more to it?

  He gritted his teeth. He’d been away for months and people were still associating them? What did he need to do to get a clean slate?

  Ellie was going to ruin everything for him.

  Someone cleared their throat nearby. Mikey spun around. Graham, his coach, was standing a few feet away.

  “You shouldn’t creep up on people like that,” he snapped, wondering how someone of Graham’s size could move around so quietly. He was shorter than Mikey, but only by a few inches. He was built like a tank, though the muscle had long ago turned to fat. He was glaring at Mikey with those sharp blue eyes that never missed a trick.

  “She still giving you bother?” Graham never danced around a subject—no matter how difficult. It was one of the things Mikey liked about him.

  Usually.

  Now it was a pain. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now, not ever. They’d done enough talking.

  “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  “Jesus Christ, why are people so bloody obsessed?”

  “So it was her?”

  “No,” Mikey grunted. “It was about something else.”

  “Yeah?” Graham’s tone made it clear he wasn’t convinced.

  “Yeah. Something about an interview with one of the local papers.”

  “Bullshit,” Graham snapped. “Do you think I’m a complete fool? As good as it is to have you back, this is worrying. You’re straight back into old habits.”

  “I’m not! I haven’t—”

  “You don’t need to waste your time on that little bitch. Do I have to remind you that she nearly destroyed you? Do you have any idea of the trouble I had trying to fix that mess?”

  Mikey gritted his teeth. He had to be careful here. There was a lot Graham didn’t know about what had happened and he needed to keep it that way. Graham was on his side—he couldn’t afford to lose the support of a man with a lot of influence both in the town and in rugby.

  “I know, Graham, but you’ve got it wrong. That call just now wasn’t anything to do with her.”

  “Wasn’t it? You’re forgetting how well I know you, lad.”

  “And you’re assuming I can’t take care of myself,” Mikey spat. “I don’t need looking after.”

  “Don’t you? From where I’m standing you have a blind spot when it comes to that girl. It’ll cost you.”

  Mikey shook his head. That wasn’t true. Graham had no idea. “Just leave it. It wasn’t her.” He cursed that girl for calling him. The bloody busybody.

  “Who was it then?”

  “I didn’t catch her name. From the local paper.”

  Graham shook his head slowly. “It’s not like you to miss a name when it might benefit your career.” He pursed his lips. “Look, I’m not blaming you. That’s not what this is about. But something needs to be done all the same. This isn’t just your career anymore. Think about all the hard work I’ve put in; that the other lads have put in.”

  Mikey shook his head. “You’re worrying about nothing, Graham. If she causes trouble again I’ll handle it, alright?”

  Graham rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving Mikey staring after him, confused.

  13

  Ellie

  “Ellie!”

  I almost jump out of my skin when a hand appears in front of my face and the fingers click inches from my nose. I tear my headset from my head as I spin around on my chair. “What the hell? You scared the life out of me.” I falter. Jason is standing over me with a thunderous expression on his face. “What is it?”

  “Come with me.”

  I follow him to his office, keeping my head down the whole way. I don’t want to see my colleagues poking their heads out of their cubicles like meerkats.

  “I said I’d make up time and I meant it,” I say as soon as I’ve closed the door behind me. “I’ll stay until eight tonight and eight tomorrow and make up the time before the week is—”

  “That’s not the point. You’ve just been sitting there staring into space. You weren’t on a call.” His eyes narrow. “Are you drunk?”

  I recoil. “What? No.”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe you shouldn’t go out drinking on Monday nights if it affects your performance at work.”

  “But it’s not affecting—”

  “Trust me,” he snaps, gesturing to his screen. ‘It’s affecting your performance.”

  A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. I open my mouth to apologise but something snaps inside me. “So it’s alright for you to go out on a Monday, but not anyone else? Is that it?”

  His face turns red. “Excuse me?”

  All I want to do is back down and go back to my desk, but I can’t—not with the way he’s looking at me. Besides, it’s not fair, is it? It’s alright for him sitting in his office where he can do what he wants. The open packet of crisps lying on his desk beside his mouse only highlights that. “I saw you out. I’m just saying: It’s hardly fair if there’s one rule for you and one for the rest of us.”

  He leans closer, scrutinising my face. “Where did you meet me, Ellie? Fifty pounds says you don’t even remember.”

  I shrink back, feeling more ashamed of myself than I’ve felt in a long time. It wasn’t in the first pub we went to—I know that for sure—but I can’t really remember where we went to after that.

  He shakes his head. “You see? That’s the difference. I never said there was anything wrong with going out on a weeknight and having a couple of pints. But going out and getting bladdered? That’s another thing.”

  I close my eyes and recall the look on his face. My memory is faint, but I realise now that he might not have been laughing at all, but angry.

  Oh shit. Why did I throw it in his face like that? I should have kept my head down and taken the bollocking.

  “Go on,” he says. His voice is full of disgust. “Get back to work.”

  I hurry out of his office as fast as I can. It feels like everyone is looking at me as I make my way back to my desk. I’ve got to get my head down and get my call stats back to where they were.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I make myself ignore it. When it goes off again ten minutes later, I’m suddenly on edge. I risk a glance in the direction of Jason’s office. There are a few people in there with him so he’s distracted for the moment. There’s no rule to say we can’t look at our phones in work, but I don’t want to give him any excuse to think badly of me.

  I pull my phone out.

  Do you want to meet tonight?

  The second message makes my stomach plummet.

  It’s okay if you don’t. You can just say.

  I quickly tap out a reply.

  Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m at work. Tonight sounds good.

  I could have used a night in to do laundry and stuff but I didn’t want to risk postponing.

  Great, meet you outside your office at 5?

  I shake my head. I should have mentioned what time I get off work. I click my tongue. As much as I want to see him, I can’t leave early after the conversation I just had with Jason.

  I’ve got to work until at least 8. Can we meet around 8.15?

  Two blue ticks appear beside my message almost immediately, but Nathan doesn’t respond. After a couple of minutes, jittery with nerves, I put my phone away and tell myself to focus on work.

  My phone vibrates at a few minutes past five when I’m on a call. At first I think it’s a text and it takes all my self-control not to check it. The vibrating continues and I realise it’s an incoming call, not a text.

  I fish my phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. It’s Nathan.

  My pulse skyrockets. I have no choice but to cancel his call because I’m in the m
iddle of a customer call.

  “Hello, are you still there?” says the voice in my headset.

  “Yes, I’m here,” I say with forced cheeriness. I try to refocus on the conversation I’ve just been having with this customer. “I’ve just been double-checking your file. I can’t see any record in the system of you requesting a service call-out.”

  “But there must be,” she says sternly.

  I need to get my head in this call, but I can’t. Something is niggling at the back of my mind. I realise I’m waiting for my phone to buzz with a text message or to start vibrating again, but it doesn’t.

  “There isn’t, I’m afraid.” I have to form the words deliberately because I’m afraid if I don’t I’ll blurt out something about Nathan.

  Why did he call? Was it to cancel? Or was he calling because he was outside? Didn’t he get my message? But I know he’s seen it.

  “What do you mean, there isn’t? There must be.”

  I sigh as quietly as I can. How many different ways can I tell her the same thing? “There’s no note on your file to say you requested a call-out from a technician. I can’t say why that is. Perhaps it was never added or maybe there was a note and somebody deleted it.”

  “Well, can’t you see which it is? Isn’t there a log of changes made to my account and a record of the member of your staff who was responsible for those changes?”

  “I’m afraid not, madam,” I say as sympathetically as I can. “What I can do is put in a request for you now. I’ll just need to take a few details.”

  “What’s the point? Who’s to say that request won’t disappear too?”