‘And Mum’s not too well, but…’ she broke off. ‘Why are you asking me this?’
‘Just curious. If you need some time off to be with your mum, let me know.
‘Time off?’ The older woman looked shocked and horrified. No wonder the two of them rubbed along together despite their differences. Nicola was grateful to have Chrissie, even if the woman sometimes annoyed her no end.
‘If you do, just ask, OK?’ Nicola said. ‘I know that Christmas is important to you. And… that I’m not the easiest person to work with.’ There, she’d said it. Probably should have been said years ago, but there you go. Nicola wasn’t quite sure about this new version of herself. Chrissie looked shaken too.
‘No, you’re not,’ Chrissie said hesitantly. ‘But we do OK, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ Nicola said. ‘We do.’
Her PA turned and left the office, leaving the door wide open. Nicola sighed, got up and closed it. As she sat back down, an alarm beeped on her phone for a conference call. She silenced it. The junior associate could handle the call. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes and curled her legs underneath her.
Popping in her earbuds, she turned her chair back around towards the window. She lay her head against the soft leather of the headrest and closed her eyes. Only moments later, she was lost. In the one gift he’d given her – freely and unknowingly. The gift of music.
22
8th December
King of Kings and Lord of Lords,
King of Kings and Lord of Lords,
And he shall reign forever and ever.
Hallelujah!
As the last ‘Hallelujah!’ faded away, the crowd in the gallery above began to whistle and cheer. Dmitri turned and bowed and acknowledged the small orchestra that had accompanied them on the Messiah choruses and the other carols. It had been a good performance. The choir was energised, the acoustics of the Apple Market were good, and the trumpet player had, for once, hit all the notes in the ‘King of Kings’ section. Dmitri ought to be feeling on top of the world right now. Covent Garden was a worthy stage, and they had taken in quite a lot of money for charity from just this one concert.
As the crowd dispersed, the choir members began to step down from the risers. Phil had joined them tonight, and Dmitri saw him walk over to Tanya and Mark who had also been singing. Despite the triumphant performance, he wished he could just slip away into the crowd, avoid the chit-chat, the invite to the pub, the worried looks from Tanya and Carole-Ann. But after this event, he’d be expected to join in the festivities.
A few people came up, and they exchanged ‘well done’s and ‘that was brilliant’s. Dmitri felt like a ventriloquist’s dummy, with a painted-on smile and words that were not his. Jenny, the soprano soloist, was chatting with a few of the other sopranos and looking in his direction. She gave him an inviting smile, her eyes bold and blue. Sighing inwardly, he gathered up the music and score and put it in his bag. As soon as they all got to the pub – there was already a place booked with an area reserved – he’d have to walk the familiar line of flirtation and detachment. Right now, he just felt so tired.
He’d barely slept over the last few days – just a few hours snatched in the early hours of the morning. Living on tea, water, the sweets brought by Tanya for the choir, and not much else. It was stupid. He needed to pull himself together—
‘…Saw her again. You’ll never believe it.’
He looked over to where Charles, one of the young tenors, was standing talking to Mark and Tanya. Charles worked in Richmond. It was he who had spotted Nicola on the train. Perhaps they were talking about someone else. He didn’t want to join in the conversation or overhear it. He didn’t want to think about Nicola. She’d unwittingly done enough damage – made him want things he could never have. Still, he couldn’t help but tune in to what was being said.
‘I’m not sure I should say it in front of a lady.’ Charles grinned at Tanya. He leaned in and lowered his voice. Dmitri couldn’t hear what was said, but all of a sudden, Tanya snorted with laughter.
‘No!’ she gasped.
‘Yes! I’m serious.’
Dmitri was annoyed with himself for it, but he went up to them. Waves of anger were rising in his chest. They might be talking about someone else entirely. But if they weren’t…
‘You have to hear this, Dima,’ Tanya said. ‘Charles saw her again. The Heckler. And you’ll never guess what she did.’
He took a breath, forcing himself to remain calm and detached. ‘What did she do, Charles?’ he asked.
Charles’ face turned pink. ‘She brought in a bag of fancy knickers to donate to the shop. She said she wanted to get rid of them. Clear them all out. Then she got mad when I said we couldn’t take them. Seriously, she started giving us the history of every pair of —’
‘Charles…’ Dmitri’s voice came out low and menacing. ‘Do not say any more.’
Charles closed his mouth immediately, but Tanya took over.
‘She was saying things like: “this one was from my married lover and this one was from a man from—”
‘Tatiana,’ he said, ‘zatknis.’ Shut up.
Tanya glared. ‘It’s funny. What’s up with you?’
He should walk away. Leave them to it. What did it matter if they wanted to laugh and joke? But he couldn’t leave it. He pulled her a little way to the side, away from Charles, at least.
‘It is not right to joke about this. Do you understand?’
Tanya cocked her head. ‘You’ve seen her.’
‘Just leave it, Tan’ka,’ he said through his teeth.
‘No – you have. When?’
He glared down at her like a dark thundercloud.
‘She came to the church to apologise. To me – and to you – for what she did.’
‘She came looking for you?’ Tanya laughed heartily. ‘When was this?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You slept with her, didn’t you? Oh God.’ Half laughing, she smacked herself lightly on the forehead. ‘Yes, I can see that she would be just your type. Beautiful, cold. Unconnected. Sleeping around with whoever.’
‘Do not speak to me like this,’ he seethed. ‘I am your brother.’
‘Did you sleep with her?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ She gave him a sly look, and seriously, he almost lost it.
‘I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.’ He turned away from her, only to see that quite a few people were watching them argue. Fuck, what language had they been speaking? This was just the last goddamn straw.
Charles took a hesitant step towards him. ‘Sorry, Dmitri, I didn’t mean to cause a problem.’
‘No worries, Charles,’ he made a monumental effort to smile. ‘There is no harm done. It’s just, I did not find that it was something very nice to laugh at. I’m sure she…’ he took a breath, ‘– The Heckler – has very good reasons for doing what she did. It is Christmastime. Are we not supposed to look upon people with kindness and charity?’
‘Well, actually, that’s what she did.’ Charles gave a sheepish laugh. ‘She kind of took charge. Got us to decorate the shop, clean it up. And the dresses and shoes she brought in made a lot of money for the charity. So I’m not complaining.’
‘She did those things? Helped with the shop?’
‘Yeah. I think we needed a kick up the backside.’
Dmitri couldn’t help himself – he had to laugh. ‘I’m sure she delivered that quite well.’
Charles laughed too and the others continued dispersing in groups to go to the pub.
Dmitri finished putting his music away. From across the room, he was aware of Tanya glaring at him, and he was sorry he’d argued with her. He hoped he’d got through to Charles, and there wouldn’t be any more talk of Nicola, her ability to transform a shop, or her underwear. He wanted her firmly locked away in his mind, which was the only place she could ever have in his life. And he wante
d her there, all to himself.
23
10th December
Her vanity really was unforgivable. He didn’t want anything to do with her – it was blindingly obvious. He hadn’t taken her number, hadn’t given her his. That ‘goodbye’ was as final as any she’d ever heard – or delivered herself. And yet, over the last few days, Nicola had been expecting to hear something. Been unable to believe that when he’d given her the brush-off and walked away, that it was final, irrevocable. She’d been wrong. Almost a whole week had gone by—
‘…Thought we had already agreed two years?’
‘What?’ Nicola snapped back to her senses. She was aware of all the people in the room looking at her. The ‘Timeless’ deal was supposed to have closed today, but at the last minute, management at the target company had come up with a few final demands that were holding everything up. She looked down at her notebook, flipped through the thick binder with the accounts, the due diligence summary and the term sheet. Her mind had been elsewhere; she’d lost track of the discussion, couldn’t find what had already been agreed. Worse, Ollie was there. He knew someone at the target and had ‘popped in to say hello’.
‘Yes,’ she snapped, conceding (she assumed) the point as if she were talking to a particularly irritating bug. ‘Fine. Now, can we just move on?’
Ollie raised an eyebrow. Nicola looked away. She was totally off her game – had been for most of the week. And the fact that Ollie was here to see it made her want to scream. As did the fact that he kept sending her texts, and she kept deleting them. He’d been in Frankfurt for most of the week, which had been a relief. But now, she was going to have to confront him in person.
‘I think that’s the last point for now,’ the investment banker was saying to her. ‘Thank you for that. Shall we have a break now and reconvene in, say, forty-five minutes.’
‘Yes, fine,’ she said. Thank God the meeting was ending and she could get her head together.
‘Perfect.’ The man she’d been negotiating with stood up and poured himself another glass of sparkling water. Nicola stood up too. The man’s eyes roamed over her. The skirt on her beige suit fell several inches above her knee, the jacket was tightly fitted at the waist. She gave him a practised smile, more for Ollie’s benefit, than his.
Nicola walked the length of the room carrying her notebook. Her high heels made no sound on the plush carpet. She went out the glass door of the conference room and down the hall to the executive washroom. Inside, the countertop was splattered with water, but she threw her notebook on to it anyway and locked herself in one of the black marble cubicles. She sat down on the lid of the toilet, her head in her hands.
It was gone – that ‘fresh from the fight’ rush of adrenalin that she used to have after a negotiation. She no longer had that feeling deep in her core that she was on top, in control and that nothing else mattered other than getting a result. In this game, desire was all-important. Desire to win, to achieve results, make money. Somewhere along the way she’d lost it and had barely even noticed.
Not until last Saturday, that is. For a brief moment, her life had been shaken up like a snow globe and filled with magic. Now, the flakes had settled, and inside, she saw something dead and plastic. Something worthless. The place where the desire had once been was hollow and cold, like a burnt-out star.
The door to the washrooms opened. Nicola waited until the door to the next cubicle banged shut, then went to leave. The good thing about men outnumbering women by four to one was that she normally had this loo to herself. She unlocked the door, flung it open. Only then did she realise that the bang of the door was a ruse.
Ollie was standing in front of her, his tie loosened around his neck.
‘You’re a hard woman to pin down, Nic.’ He raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it up, and gave her that grin that once used to excite her. Part of her had wondered whether when she saw him again, she’d fall back into the old pattern. Take the path of least resistance. Now, though, as he licked his lips and his hands circled her waist, she felt a desperate, clawing sensation in her chest.
‘Leave me alone, Ollie,’ she said. ‘It’s over.’
Laughing, he lifted her up like she weighed nothing. He swung her around, on to the wet countertop. ‘Is this a new game, Nic?’ he said. ‘Because I think I’m going to like it.’
Ice-cold panic flooded her as he pushed her skirt up, parted her knees and stood between them. She tried to push him away but he was much bigger and stronger. He started to undo his trousers.
‘No, Ollie,’ she gasped, barely able to breathe. It had come to this – again. She was powerless. Everything she had tried to build up in her life was nothing in the face of this one, inescapable truth. ‘I don’t want to.’
To her surprise, he stood back a fraction. She could tell that he was angry, trying not to show it.
‘Come on, babe,’ he said. ‘Stop acting this way. I’m sorry I cancelled on us. I didn’t want to, believe me.’
‘I know, Ollie. But I can’t do this any more.’ She managed to wriggle off the counter on to her feet. Her knees were quivering so hard that she could barely stand.
‘What’s up with you?’ He stood all the way back now, his face clouded with anger. But there was confusion there too. She felt weak with relief as she pulled her skirt back into place.
‘Nothing,’ she said. She grabbed her notebook and held it tightly to her chest. She tried to go past him, but he blocked her path again.
‘Hey come on, Nicola.’ The hard lines on his face softened. He looked genuinely surprised at the state she was in. ‘It’s me. I’ve missed you, that’s all. Christ, I think about you all the time. I know I’ve been a bastard – I’m sorry.’
She nodded, unable to speak.
‘Can’t I at least have a hug?’ He gave her his trademark lopsided smile that he’d used so many times to convince her of their glorious ‘future’ together – one she hadn’t really wanted anyway. Being with Ollie had once been exciting, but now it was simply habit. Those promises he had made had kept her on the back foot, made her hurt. She felt like a caged animal that had only just become aware of its own captivity.
She allowed him to put his arms around her, pull her head to his chest. She had wanted this once, this tenderness from him. But now, as she felt his erection stir against her, she just wanted to escape.
‘Let me go, Ollie.’ She pulled away from him and made a lunge past him to the door. Fumbling to open it, she went out into the hall, gasping for breath.
‘What the fuck?’ she heard him say as the door closed.
Holding on to the wall to steady herself, she walked as fast as she could to her office. She grabbed her handbag, shoved some papers and her laptop into her satchel and made her way over to the PA desks.
Chrissie looked up from her conversation with one of the other PAs with concern. ‘Nicola? What’s happened?’
‘I’m… not feeling well,’ she said. ‘Can you reschedule my meeting? I’m sorry…’ Her mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva. She turned and ran off towards the lifts.
24
She was fine. There was nothing wrong. Nothing could be wrong; there was too much to do. Yes, she’d been stressed lately, working very hard. And the ‘incident’ with Ollie earlier had been difficult. He’d expected everything to be as normal between them, and the fact that she had changed… Well, he’d backed off. Sort of.
And seeing him had been a good thing. Her physical aversion had proved that she was over him. Yes, this new reality would take some getting used to. But most of the people she worked with were men. An ex-lover, more or less – she could handle that.
After running out of the office, Nicola had gone home. She was tired, her immune system was run-down from stress, it was all perfectly understandable. The journey had taken twice as long as usual. An ‘incident involving a passenger at Surbiton’ had delayed things at Waterloo. But it was fine. There was no choir to annoy her, no plans to disrupt or
be spoiled, nothing at all waiting for her when she got home. Perfect.
As she poured herself a glass of wine, deleted the Rachmaninov and other piano music from her phone and ran a bath, she focused on how clear things had become. She needed some time off, and she’d take it, just as soon as the ‘Timeless’ deal closed. A month off, go somewhere warm. It didn’t matter where, as long as it was far away from here. Clear her head, put some distance between her and Ollie, forget about Dmitri… she was well on her way to doing that already. Maybe she’d meet someone while on holiday and have a nice, uncomplicated love affair, the way other people did. And maybe, when she came back, she’d sell her house. Start over in a different part of London. Greenwich, maybe? That was nice, and close to work. Close to other firms too if she went through with her plans for a new start and quit Privé.
She needed a plan; she had a plan. Everything was more than fine – it was good. This evening she’d go through the detailed accounts of Care that Chrissie had printed out for her, along with the price list of items she’d noted down. There was plenty to do other than working and dwelling on the men who were not in her life—
Nicola’s phone rang and she jumped. God, she was skittish today. The name that came up was her sister Jules’. Great – she’d been meaning to call her anyway.
‘Hello?’
‘Nicola.’ In that single word, Nicola could hear the strain in her sister’s voice. ‘You said you would call me last Friday, but anyway I—’
‘Sorry Jules,’ Nicola said. ‘I am coming – on Christmas Day. But it will just be me.’ She gave a long exhale. Finally, she was on the way to telling the truth.
‘No,’ Jules said. ‘Don’t bother. I’m not doing Christmas this year. That’s why I’m calling.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Oh Nicola!’
Nicola heard a loud, desperate sob. Hearing her little sister break down in tears made her feel like a hole had ripped open inside of her.
‘Jules! What’s the matter? You have to tell me.’
Moonlight on the Thames Page 16
