by Sandie Jones
‘Jeez,’ she says, puffing out her cheeks. ‘You’re a more forgiving woman than I’d ever be.’
‘Do you want a drink?’ I ask.
‘I’ll have a coffee if you’re making one.’
‘I was thinking of something stronger.’
‘It’s only three thirty,’ she says, looking at her watch. ‘What time is Nathan likely to be back?’
‘Probably any time now.’
‘I’d better get going then,’ she says. ‘It’s not going to take a rocket scientist to work out what’s going on if he walks into this.’
‘Thanks for coming over,’ I say, hugging her at the door.
‘I’m here if you need me,’ she says, before dragging a reluctant Millie down the path.
They bump into Sophia on the pavement and say a cheery hello and goodbye. ‘You look like crap,’ she says when she reaches me. ‘What’s up?’
If that’s her way of showing she cares, I’ll take it right now.
‘I just haven’t got any make-up on,’ I say, as she alternates between looking at me and the phone in her hand. ‘And I’d really prefer it if you didn’t use that kind of language. You’re at home now – you’re not with your mates.’
‘Soz,’ she says, and I roll my eyes in exasperation at her inability to use complete words.
Her phone rings and she looks at me half apologetically as she answers it.
‘Hiya,’ she says with a smile. ‘It’s Nathan,’ she mouths.
I can’t stop my features from hardening.
‘He’s asking if we want to meet him at the Cuckoo Club, near the office, for something to eat.’
I know exactly where it is. Does he think I’m stupid? Does he think that him asking us to meet him there verifies his whereabouts for the previous three hours? Is he using Sophia to test what mood I’m in?
I look at my watch. ‘It’s getting late,’ I say. ‘I’d rather do dinner here.’ The thought of forced joviality, pretending to anyone looking on that all is well, is just not in my remit right now.
‘Okay,’ she nods. ‘Yep, I’ll tell her.’ She turns to me. ‘He’s on his way home, says we can have a barbecue if you fancy.’
No, is what I think. ‘Okay then,’ is what I say.
Just a few days ago, I’d have proudly told anyone who asked that my stomach still did butterflies every time I heard Nathan’s key in the front door. Now, I wait here, dreading it. How the hell did this happen?
I can’t carry this burden with me into another day. It’s eating away at my insides.
10
I wait until Nathan’s put Olivia to bed before pouring us both a large glass of red wine and settling down on one of the oversized cream sofas, making sure I sit perfectly in the middle, so that he’ll feel more inclined to sit in the identical one opposite me. I want to be able to watch every twitch on his face, every spasm of expression.
There’s a churning in the pit of my stomach as I wait for him to join me, an unmistakable swirl of nervousness that will only dissipate when I have the answers that I need. I pull my legs up underneath me as he walks in, conscious of relaying a more relaxed mood. As expected, he sits down heavily on the sofa opposite and takes a slug of wine.
‘How did it go in the office today?’ I ask. ‘Get much done?’
I tilt my head to the side, in another subconscious effort to put him at ease. Though why, I don’t know. I guess it just feels that I’m more likely to catch him out if he’s off guard.
‘Yes, it’s much easier when the phone isn’t constantly ringing.’ He clears his throat. ‘So, are you going to tell me what was going on with you this morning, and last night . . .?’
I wonder if he knows he’s walking into a minefield, the severity of the explosion entirely dependent on the words he chooses to utter in the next few minutes. I take as large a mouthful of my wine as I can, in the hope that it might numb the pain. I’m almost a bottle in and still waiting.
‘Steady on,’ he says, and I defiantly knock back another gulp, my eyes never leaving his. ‘What the hell is going on with you?’
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. ‘Nothing.’
‘You’ve not been yourself since I got back from Japan,’ he says, trying a different tack. ‘Are you worried about the work involved if we get the job? Because you know I only want to do this if you’re entirely happy. I don’t want to put you under any unnecessary stress.’
‘I’m not a five-year-old,’ I say petulantly.
He sighs. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘No, actually, I don’t think I do. What are you trying to say?’
I drain my wine and put the stained glass on the coffee table, both of us momentarily watching it wobble.
‘I just don’t want to risk you having a setback, that’s all,’ he says. ‘You’ve come such a long way and I’m so proud of how well you’ve done.’
Tears jump to my eyes. I don’t know if it’s because I want to make him proud, or that I know he’d be devastated if he knew I was back on medication. I guess they’re one and the same thing.
‘I’m still doing fine,’ I say, hoping he can’t sense my guilt.
He sits forward and looks at me earnestly. ‘You can do this, Alice.’
‘Which bit?’
‘All of it,’ he says, smiling. ‘Japan is a big ask, I know that. But I wouldn’t have pitched for it if I didn’t think you were capable of doing it.’
I nod. I am capable, but that’s not what the problem is here.
‘You only have to say the word if it’s not what you want, but it would be such a huge waste of your hard work. You’ve put your heart and soul into this . . . I thought it was what you wanted.’
It was, until I discovered that my husband is having an affair. Now, everything feels uncertain, as if I’m suspended in some weird, parallel universe. Hanging there in limbo, waiting for my strings to be cut.
‘I’ve got a confession to make,’ I start, half smiling. I can’t go in too accusatory. ‘I’m afraid I washed your white shorts.’
His eyebrows knit together as he watches me walk through to the kitchen and reach behind the last cookbook on the shelf. I pull out the hotel bill.
‘Sorry, I didn’t see it until it was too late, but this was in the pocket. I hope it isn’t anything important.’ I hand him the bombshell, which I’ve wet along the creases, just enough to give it the appearance of having seen better days, but without any of the incriminating evidence being destroyed.
I watch as he opens it carefully with his forefinger and thumb, a slight irritation to him now. He peels one side painstakingly slowly away from the other, so as not to damage the damp paper. How ironic that in just a few seconds he’s going to wish he’d done the exact opposite.
He stares at the Conrad logo blankly before looking at me. I’m careful to keep my expression neutral, to make him think there’s still a chance I haven’t yet looked at it.
‘What’s this?’ he asks.
I stay silent, waiting for the penny to drop.
‘Oh, it’s just my hotel bill,’ he says dismissively, before folding it carefully again. ‘No doubt I’ll need that for accounts.’
‘Are all entertaining expenses tax deductible then?’ I ask casually, picking at imaginary fluff from a cushion.
A funny noise emits from his throat. I’m not sure if it’s because he realizes I’ve seen it or if it’s a derisory snort at my comment. If I look at him I’ll be able to tell which it is from the expression on his face, but I don’t want to know.
‘It’s not entertaining, Al,’ he says. ‘I was there on business.’
‘Well, that all depends on how the taxman views it,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure he’d see a couple’s massage as business, do you?’
He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘A couple’s massage? Where on earth did you get that idea from? I was there on business. For AT Designs. For you.’
‘Don’t you dare make out that you’re doing me a favour.’
&nbs
p; ‘Jesus,’ he says, standing up. ‘First it’s an earring, now it’s a hotel bill.’
‘Don’t forget the bouquet to Rachel,’ I sneer. ‘What were you apologizing to her for? Have you had a lovers’ tiff? I bet you tore a strip off the florist for delivering it to the card holder’s address instead of your darling Rachel’s. Is that where you’ve been this afternoon? Buying another bouquet and delivering it personally?’
He comes towards me. ‘Listen to yourself,’ he snaps. ‘What the hell is going on with you?’
It takes all my willpower not to swing at him. How dare he insinuate it’s all in my head? ‘Do you honestly think I’m stupid?’
His jawline clenches involuntarily. ‘I haven’t got a clue what—’
‘Look!’ I shout, snatching the bill out of his hands. I’m not nearly as careful as he was opening it. ‘There.’
His brow creases as he leans in to look at it more closely.
‘I honestly have no idea what that even is.’
I roll my eyes, exasperated.
‘Honestly, I don’t know where that’s come from. That’s not my bill.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ I snap. ‘Are you really expecting me to believe that?’
He takes it from me and stares at it, shaking his head. ‘This isn’t my bill.’
I fold my arms. ‘So, you didn’t pay $792.60?’
‘Nowhere near. I only had a few extras, because the room was paid for in advance. They must have given me this printout by mistake afterwards.’
‘You must think I was born yesterday.’
‘Alice, I promise,’ he says gently.
I want to believe him, and as I allow the possibility that it could all, somehow, be a comedy of errors, I suddenly feel spent. I fall back onto the sofa as all the nervous energy of the past couple of days consumes me.
‘So, you’re telling me I don’t need to worry?’
He looks me squarely in the eyes. ‘About Japan? Yes, we do need to worry because there’s no guarantee we’re going to get it and if we do, you need to be ready. But I swear on the girls’ lives that I’m not having an affair.’
I flinch as he uses Sophia and Olivia to bet on.
11
Lottie sees me struggling with my mood boards from the window of the office and runs out to help.
‘Is this all for Japan?’ she says, tilting them this way and that to get a look at them. ‘Wow, they’re amazing.’ Her enthusiasm is infectious.
‘I changed some things up over the weekend. I just wanted to see how they sat against the walnut floors.’ I don’t tell her that I’d done it through the fog of a hangover after drinking myself into a stupor after Nathan had gone to bed on Saturday night. I’m still not feeling quite myself a day later – it seems to take me so much longer to recover than it used to. Though I can’t imagine it helps when I’m mixing gin and wine with antidepressants.
‘I think Nathan’s on the phone now,’ she says through a wide grin, as I hold the door open for her. ‘Might it be the decision?’
My stomach does a somersault as I look at my watch. ‘Oh God, it wasn’t supposed to be happening until 11.30.’ I let out an involuntary squeak, though I don’t know whether it’s from nerves or excitement.
I try to gauge Nathan’s expression as I peer through the striped glass panels of his office wall, but although he must see me, he shows no flicker of recognition.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ asks Lottie.
‘Yes please,’ I say. ‘A strong one.’
The atmosphere is charged as Nathan moves, seemingly in slow motion, through the open-plan area and into my office. Six heads turn and watch his back as if it’s going to give them the answer we all so desperately want to hear.
I feel a rush of heat to my ears as he closes the door behind him and stands in front of me. I can see his lips moving but the first few words he utters sound as if he’s talking underwater.
‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing I hear clearly.
My head falls into my hands, my elbows firmly on my desk.
‘The developers aren’t buying the land after all. They’re not going ahead with the deal.’
It’s in that moment that I realize just how much I’d wanted it. ‘But why?’ I ask, my voice high-pitched and sounding like a spoilt child.
‘I don’t know,’ says Nathan. ‘But what we need to take away from this is that if the deal had gone ahead, we would have definitely won the business. They said as much.’
I can’t think straight. I just feel deflated.
‘Did they even hint at what’s happened to change their mind?’ I say, finding my voice.
Nathan scratches at his head, his bemusement obviously as great as my own.
‘I mean why would they just suddenly pull out at this late stage? AT Designs aside, I thought this was a massive deal for them as well.’
‘It is. It was,’ he says, rubbing at the five o’clock shadow that peppers his chin. ‘It just doesn’t make sense. I thought they were a hundred per cent committed.’
‘All that work,’ I say, ‘a wasted trip to Japan.’
‘It’s the nature of the beast,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He walks to me and pulls me up out of the chair. ‘I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities,’ he says, hugging me and kissing the top of my head. I’m vaguely aware that the team are eyeing us through the glass – it doesn’t take much to guess which way it’s gone.
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m just so disappointed. I really thought this was the big one.’
‘We’re already doing really well,’ he says, holding me away from him, his eyes boring into mine. ‘This year’s figures are amazing. Don’t beat yourself up about it.’
‘It’s not about the money,’ I say. ‘It’s about putting ourselves on the map, building a reputation. This would have done that.’
He looks away for a moment, and I watch as he goes into thinking mode. ‘Give me a sec,’ he says, before turning and going out the door. Lottie’s eyes follow him forlornly as he crosses the space between my office and his. She looks how I feel.
I’m surrounded by wood samples, fabric swatches and paint colours, all destined for twenty-eight apartments in Tokyo that no longer exist. I want to throw the whole lot out of the window in frustration.
Lottie pokes her head around the door. ‘You okay?’ she asks quietly.
I daren’t look at her, as I’m sure I’ll cry, and thankfully she takes the hint and backs out. For God’s sake Alice, pull yourself together, I say to myself. It’s not as if somebody’s died.
But they have, and I suddenly picture Tom’s face, his mouth breaking into a wide grin at being told we’d won the contract. I can feel his immense pride as he lifts me up in his arms and twirls me around, before we collapse into a giggling heap, unable to believe what we’d achieved.
This one’s for you, is what I was planning on saying to him. But now I can’t, and I don’t know if I’m more disappointed that I’ve let him down, or overcome with guilt that it’s his face I imagined sharing that moment with and not Nathan’s.
‘Can I just run something by you?’ says Nathan, coming back in and interrupting my thoughts. He’s almost bobbing from one foot to other, agitated.
‘Go on,’ I say, sitting back down on my chair.
He comes around to my side of the desk and sits on its leather top beside me.
‘What if I told you that the land and the project is still up for sale?’ he says, staring straight ahead, out of the window behind me.
‘What do you mean?’ I turn and look up at him, confused.
‘The sellers still want to sell – it’s just the buyers that have pulled out.’
‘O-kay,’ I say hesitantly. ‘How does any of that help us?’
‘What if we buy it?’ he says, his jawline tensing with every word he utters.
‘What?’ I almost screech. ‘Don’t be insane!’
‘Listen to me,’ he says, looking at me for the fi
rst time and taking hold of my hands. ‘We could do this project ourselves. We could buy the land, build the apartments, design the interiors and sell them on ourselves.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ I ask, laughing.
‘We could do this, Al,’ he says, his voice getting louder. ‘Me and you. AT Designs. We could do this whole damn thing ourselves.’
I’m looking at him, shaking my head. ‘This is far too big for us to take on. We don’t have the experience, we don’t have the money . . .’
‘A million buys it,’ he says. ‘We could get a loan, keep the repayments super-low.’
‘Okay, you’re scaring me now,’ I say, but the adrenaline is coursing its way around my body. Is this even a remote possibility?
‘I’ve just spoken with the vendors,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘They’re desperate. They were selling for £1.5 million, but they’ll drop if they can get a buyer now.’ He falls to his knees in front of me. ‘We can do this Alice. I know we can.’
‘We . . . we can’t, I mean we can’t just . . .’
‘You wanted to hit the big time,’ he says earnestly. ‘Well, now’s your chance.’
‘We need to talk about it . . .’
‘We can’t wait around, Al – this offer’s not going to be there for long. They’ll have other developers biting their hand off – it’s right on the 2020 Olympics site. It’s a no-brainer.’
‘I need to think,’ I say. ‘I can’t think straight.’
‘We can do this,’ repeats Nathan excitedly. ‘It’s all there for the taking.’
‘I need some time to get my head around it,’ I say. ‘Give me twenty-four hours to think.’
‘This opportunity might not be there in twenty-four hours,’ he pleads. ‘We need to strike whilst the iron’s hot.’
‘I’m not going to make a rash decision now, Nathan.’ My voice surprises me – its tone tinged with calmness, belying the chaos that is raging through my head. ‘AT Designs was set up using Tom’s money. Almost every penny of his inheritance went into founding this company and I’m not about to blow all our hard work on a whimsical fancy thousands of miles away.’
