She's Mine

by A A Chaudhuri

  There’s this mature trainee at work called Julia. She used to teach maths, but after fifteen years in the classroom, decided to retrain as a lawyer. She’s single as far as I know, a bit weird, a bit nerdy, but a diligent worker and not afraid to speak her mind, both of which count for a lot in the City.

  At my firm, trainees sit in four different departments (or ‘seats’) over their two-year training period, and those who are adventurous and lucky enough to be selected have the chance to spend six months abroad in their second year. Julia’s nearly at the end of her second seat – my department, litigation; one of the compulsory seats. She did a lot of work for me in the first three months, on one case in particular, a case which regularly kept us late at the office.

  Before our falling out, Julia never complained. In fact, she was eager to the point of being nauseating. Poking her head through my office door every twenty minutes, asking if she could do this or that. Offering to carry my case, my files, even when she was loaded down with her own. Fetching me coffee, biscuits, et cetera. I think she would have wiped my bottom had I asked her to. But before long, things started to get uncomfortable. It started to feel like she was stalking me. I would notice her staring at me. Not just a fleeting glance, but proper staring. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. Even my colleagues noticed. They’d joke about my trainee having a lesbian crush on me. I’d laugh, tell them to shut up, stop being so stupid, but in my mind, I wondered if they were right.

  One night, around a month before Greg and I were married, Julia and I were working late, and by the time it got to eleven, it was just the two of us left on the floor. I remember she was sitting across from me at my desk as I scanned a bundle of documents she’d put together for a hearing the following day. But then, out of nowhere, she started asking intimate questions, mainly about Greg and me. How long had we been dating? Did we live together? Was he really the one? Greg’s a very lucky man, she hoped he knew that. Caught by surprise, I tried to keep my answers short, not wanting to give the impression that I was enjoying our conversation, which, of course, I wasn’t. I was feeling bloody uncomfortable. I think she realized this, because she then made a point of apologizing, said I was one of the nicest associates she’d worked for, and she had simply thought we’d struck up a bond, having worked together so closely for the past few months. Again, this made me feel uneasy because I certainly hadn’t seen things that way. She may have been older than me, but she was still my trainee and we weren’t bosom buddies. But then, before I had time to blink, she reached across my desk and placed her hand on mine. It was so unexpected, and I automatically snatched my hand away in disgust.

  ‘What are you doing?!’ I said. I’ve never been interested in women, and the thought that I’d given her reason to think I might be interested in her appalled me. I realized I needed to nip things in the bud before the situation really got out of hand.

  ‘I just thought we’d made a connection,’ she stammered, going red in the face.

  ‘Well, you’re wrong,’ I snapped. ‘We’re not friends, you’re my trainee, and if you want to stay at this firm, you need to act professionally. I don’t care what you like doing in your own time, but please don’t try and include me in it.’

  I remember her face, brimming with hurt and humiliation. I realized then that she probably didn’t have many friends, or much of a life outside work, and regretted my tone. I was going to apologize, but she didn’t give me time. Just said, all flustered, ‘Yes, of course. Sorry, forget it. Look, if you think the file’s OK, I’ll head off home.’

  Awkward to say the least. Even if I had wanted her help with something else, I wouldn’t have asked her to stay. I would have done anything to extricate myself from the unpleasant situation I’d found myself in. And so I didn’t hesitate to respond, ‘Yes, of course, it’s very late,’ upon which she was off like a shot.

  After that, she did her best to avoid me – in the corridors, in the cafe, at client events – and generally did as little work as possible for me. Although I initially felt bad for snapping at her, I was glad to have made my position clear before things got out of control. She needed to know her place.

  But something bad happened last night – nearly three months on from our awkward exchange – and now it feels like I’m the one who’s been put in her place.

  There was this big client do at the firm. Held in the top-floor client function room. We had a massive turnout, with no expense spared. As usual, the booze flowed freely, and I was pretty pissed after a couple of hours. As were you. Greg was in Paris at the time, pitching to potential new clients. He got back this morning, but after I’d left for work, and so I haven’t seen him yet.

  I always find these events rather tedious, and with Miranda off sick there was no one about to tag-team with and it felt more tiresome than ever. All night we tried our best to ignore each other, just a few brief glances across the room, but the point arrived when neither of us could stand it any longer. Not long after, I casually walked past you while you were speaking to a couple of associates, and held your gaze, a signal that only you understood. A signal to wait a few minutes before following me out of the room in the direction of the ladies’.

  I sauntered down the corridor and then, just before reaching the ladies’, turned right and waited in a tiny alcove where I believed we could shelter from prying eyes. A few minutes later, you appeared and, checking that no one was around, you pushed me up against the wall and kissed me hungrily. I could feel the lust dripping off you as it did off me. Although we knew we were taking a big risk, we couldn’t help ourselves, our inhibitions loosened by too much wine. We carried on kissing as your hand wandered up my skirt and around to my thigh, and we were so lost in ourselves and each other we didn’t hear footsteps approach. But just as we broke apart for air, Julia appeared in my eyeline, and I nearly screamed in shock.

  You immediately spun round to see what was wrong, and when you saw her staring at us, your face turned ashen. The guilt was written on both our faces as we stared back at her, unable to speak, but suddenly a lot more sober.

  No one said a word. And then, after a few seconds – although it felt like hours – she turned around and walked off out of sight, leaving you and me alone, still standing there, thunderstruck. It certainly killed the mood. It was so reckless, so stupid of us, and I chastised myself for being so weak, imagining all the terrible things that might happen if she talked. The end of my career at the firm, the end of Greg and me, my reputation blown to pieces. Even though that’s probably what I deserve.

  I flew into a panic and vented my fears out loud to you. You already knew about my falling out with Julia, how I’d upset her, and now she had the ammunition to make my life and yours a living hell. You told me to calm down, think straight. That I should speak to her first thing in the morning, but for now just pray she kept her mouth shut.

  * * *

  Last night I couldn’t sleep, and when I left home at seven this morning, I did so with a raging hangover and a sense of foreboding as to what awaited me at the office.

  I’m now at my desk, summoning up the courage to dial Julia’s extension. She’s usually in by 8.15, so I’m hoping to catch her for a quiet word before the floor gets busy. I look at my watch. It’s just on 8.20. I dread picking up the phone, but I do. I reluctantly punch in her number, then wait for her to pick up, which she does after three rings. I keep my voice steady and politely ask her if she wouldn’t mind popping into my office. She says no problem, and within thirty seconds she appears at my door. I make a feeble attempt at a smile and ask her to shut the door and take a seat. She does as instructed, and my insides are turning over because I’m not sure how to start.

  But I don’t need to; she pipes up first, her eyes sly. ‘I know why you called me in here.’

  I swallow hard. ‘Look, about last night—’

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘You mean the moment I caught you red-handed with a man who isn’t your husband? Your face stuck to his, his hands all over yo
ur crotch? I assume that’s what you’re referring to?’

  Her tone is steely, while her eyes shimmer with delight, as if she’s enjoying every moment of my discomfort. I want to scream at her for her disgusting behaviour, but all the balls are in her court and it’s imperative that I keep her onside.

  ‘It was nothing, a big mistake,’ I say. ‘I had too much to drink, that’s all. A one-time thing only. Please can you just forget about it, forget you ever saw us? Innocent people will get hurt.’

  ‘People like your husband and his wife, you mean? Why didn’t you think of that before you decided to ram your tongue down his throat? No wonder you don’t like being asked personal questions. You have a lot to hide.’

  She’s really enjoying this. Bitch.

  ‘It was a one-off, please believe me.’

  ‘Really? Other people at this firm might be stupid, but I’m not. I’ve been watching you closely; I’ve seen the looks that pass between the two of you.’

  I’m suddenly hot and angry. And a bit scared. ‘Why have you been watching me closely? You shouldn’t be – that’s borderline stalking.’

  ‘Don’t get angry, Christine,’ she snarls. ‘You’re in no position to.’ She grins smugly.

  I always thought she was a bit odd, but now I realize she’s more than that. She’s fucking bonkers, and I need to tread very carefully. I need to bargain for her silence.

  ‘What is it you want?’ I ask.

  She sighs, sinking back into her chair. ‘I want guaranteed qualification and six months in the New York office.’

  My heart drops.

  ‘I don’t have the power to make those decisions,’ I say. ‘I’m not a partner, there’s no way I can guarantee either of your requests.’

  ‘I know that. But he can. His voice matters. He helps keep the coffers full. And that’s what counts.’

  She’s halfway through her training contract, and applications for internships abroad have already been submitted. ‘Have you applied for New York?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, but we all know it’s the most popular seat. And despite it being a clear case of age discrimination, it’s no secret the partners would prefer to send a twentysomething trainee to the Big Apple than an oldie like me.’ She pauses, then, ‘That’s why I could do with some help.’

  Another smirk. I want to strangle her.

  I take a deep breath, then say, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she says with a wide grin. ‘Give me what I want, and your secret is safe with me.’

  Then she gets up and leaves without either of us saying another word.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Christine

  Now

  Greg looks at me, astounded. Despite promising myself there’d be no more lies, I still couldn’t pluck up the courage to tell him the whole truth and name names, principally because I’m not sure he could handle that right now. In fact, I think it would break him. Plus, there are other people’s feelings at stake, not just his. All I told him was that Julia had some kind of fixation with me and turned nasty when I didn’t reciprocate her advances, and that later, when she saw me with my lover, she threatened to talk if I didn’t agree to her demands.

  ‘So you spoke to the partners about her?’

  ‘Just Graham Small.’ Another lie. Small was the senior partner at the time, but I never talked to him.

  ‘And he agreed to Julia’s terms?’ Greg is right to sound amazed.

  ‘Yes,’ I nod, swallowing hard. Swallowing away my lies, my seemingly endless deceit.

  Of course, it was you who spoke in confidence with Small because your voice mattered. He wouldn’t have listened to me, a lowly associate. You told him Julia had some serious scandal on you and had threatened to go public with it if she didn’t get a job at the end of her training contract. You never told him what she had on you – didn’t mention my name, thank God – but you did say if word got out it could seriously hurt the firm’s reputation.

  ‘And you kept this from the police?’ Greg asks.

  He looks at me like he doesn’t know me, and he has every right. I’m not even sure I know myself any more. The fact is, I didn’t tell the police because I didn’t want our affair to get out.

  I explain this to Greg, who’s appalled. As am I, looking back. I know I should have told them everything, but in my defence, I genuinely didn’t think Julia had anything to do with Heidi’s disappearance, on the basis that she got what she wanted, and seemed content with that. What’s more, I didn’t want to chance pissing her off again.

  ‘You should have told me and the police about her,’ Greg says. ‘It could have been relevant. That counts as perverting the course of justice, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I know, but I honestly didn’t think it could have been her. I mean, she stayed on at the firm after she qualified. Surely she wouldn’t have done that if she’d kidnapped Heidi?’

  ‘Who knows? She might have done, especially if she killed her.’

  I shudder at this suggestion.

  ‘That’s what psychopaths do. They kill, yet happily maintain normal lives. How do we know she didn’t murder Heidi and get rid of her body? You’re less likely to suspect someone who’s right under your nose, aren’t you?’

  He’s right, of course, but his brutal frankness is hard to take. I look at his face, distorted with hurt and anger, and I realize all he must see in me is a liar and a cheat. I wouldn’t blame him for never forgiving me, for hating me with every fibre of his being. Truth is, with every passing minute, I hate myself more and more.

  ‘I don’t recall the woman,’ he continues. ‘If she was a mature trainee, then she must be retired by now.’

  ‘There’s no reason why you should remember her. And yes, she must be in her mid-sixties now.’

  ‘So why have you bothered to tell me about her now if you don’t think she had anything to do with Heidi’s kidnapping?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, pacing the room. ‘I guess because of the email. And because I’m desperate for any clue as to who’s trying to mess with us. Even if it wasn’t her who took Heidi, maybe she told someone else about my affair.’

  ‘Which explains why the email referred to you as a whore?’

  Greg’s tone shocks me. It feels like an unnecessary comment, but I don’t react, because he’s obviously hurting. I just say calmly, ‘Yes. I can’t think of anyone else who saw me with him, so she’s the only one who could have gossiped.’

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ he asks.

  ‘I need to find her and question her.’

  ‘You? Don’t you mean the police?’

  ‘No. It needs to be me. I need to look her in the eye, hear it from her own lips.’

  I expect Greg to protest, but he doesn’t, perhaps because he’s given up on us being able to make decisions together.

  ‘Greg, I never wanted to hurt you,’ I say, edging towards him. I try to place my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs me off and looks at me with cold, mistrustful eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure we can ever come back from this, Chrissy. All I know is that I can’t be around you right now. I’m going to see if Dan can put me up for a few days.’

  I open my mouth to speak, but he leaves the room without giving me a chance to say anything. Half an hour later, he’s gone, and I have never felt so unloved and so alone.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Greg

  Now

  In the end, I didn’t ask Daniel if I could stay at his. I figured he needs to be on his own right now, not have his old man encroaching on his space. I went to see him, though, just to make sure he hadn’t slit his wrists. Thankfully, he seems to be holding it together. I didn’t tell him about your affair, Chrissy. I couldn’t bring myself to, not yet. I will, of course. I just need a few days to come to terms with it myself before breaking the news to our son.

  I found a hotel near work – costs a small fortune, but it’s only until I find a place to rent. I just can’t be
around you. You’ve told so many lies over the years, I’m finding it hard to believe anything you say, and now there’s this anger inside me that scares me. I’m not a violent man, but I felt like hitting you when you owned up to your affair. The meaning of the note suddenly ringing loud and clear. You’ve ruined my life, and I’m not even sure if I want to find Heidi any more. If she’s alive, she’s probably much happier without us than she’d ever have been with us. Why spoil that? Why inflict her real, screwed-up parents and their screwed-up lives on her? Lives tainted by lies, pain and misery.

  More depressing is that I haven’t been able to get hold of Amber since we had coffee. I’ve sent her texts, left voicemails, but got no response. I’m worried our being spotted by Janine has scared her off, and I just pray Janine doesn’t track her down and give her an earful. She’s always the first to defend you so I wouldn’t put it past her. I remember, not long after Heidi was taken, I had a go at you for losing her, and Janine slapped me across the face. She made me feel so ashamed of my behaviour at the time. But I don’t feel ashamed any more, because now it’s clear that both Janine and I have been fooled by you all these years. I’m certain you’ve never told her about your affair because she idolizes you, and you wouldn’t be able to stand losing her respect. The same is true of Miranda, only in her case because she idolizes me and would have told me straight away. You don’t have any other friends you could have confessed to as far as I know.

  Despite fearing her reaction towards Amber, I’m still tempted to call Miranda to tell her about your affair. Just for the sympathy vote, I guess. But in the end I don’t. Because that would be childish. Plus, I’m afraid she might play the I-told-you-so-all-those-years-ago card. She warned me you might be trouble, break my heart. But I didn’t listen. I was blinded by love. Blind to your faults. And now I, and our children, are paying the price.

  I’m having dinner with Ella tonight. Daniel told her about his break-up with Freya, and the fact that he blames you for it. And now I expect Ella is acting as his go-between, wanting to know if I can shed any light on Freya’s decision. Depending on how the conversation goes, I might tell her about your affair because she’s even more reproachful of you than Daniel, and therefore won’t be as shocked by your behaviour. Whether I do or not, I am going to tell her about Amber. I’m sick of all the lying and sneaking around, and now that you know about Amber, our children should know. And if Amber will have me, I’m going to ask her if she wants to get serious.