The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching

by M J Hardy

  His eyes flash and his lip curls as he hisses, “You’re a devious woman which means you are the best person for the job. I want you to do what you do best and give me something I can use against her. That woman is breaking me and I am not prepared to let that happen. Now, you will quickly learn that I hired you for the qualities I saw in you that didn’t include your administrative skills and my wife has just given us the perfect opportunity.”

  He breaks off as the waiter arrives with the main course and my appetite deserts me and it’s not because of the quite frankly mouth-watering plate of boeuf bourguignon that has been set before me. No, it’s the knowledge I have to see this through to pay him back for the opportunity.

  He starts to eat and as I stare at my plate, he says tersely, “Eat up, we don’t have long.”

  As I chew the delicious mouthful of food, it turns to dust in my mouth. I feel cornered and slightly used and now know why I was invited here. To meet the woman he wants me to destroy – for him.

  19

  Somehow, I make it through lunch. Somehow, I manage to look normal when inside my world has been turned upside down again. And somehow, I follow my new boss on legs that haven’t stopped shaking since I sat down.

  Can I do this, I’m not so sure anymore? Do I have to do this, of course I do, if I stand any hope of keeping my job?

  We travel back to the office in the same silence that accompanied us here.

  Just before we stop outside Crossline, Julian turns to me and says in a low voice. “I want you to get inside that woman’s head. Discover what she does with her day. What she likes, dislikes, who her friends are, everything. I want to know her dirtiest little secret and I expect you to repay me for my generosity in giving you this chance.”

  He leans even closer and his breath whips around my face, as he says darkly, “I reward my employees well if they please me, Emma. It will be worth your while, I can promise you that.”

  As the door flies open, I look in surprise at the driver standing there, holding it open courteously. Julian barks, “Go and make a start. I have another appointment to keep and will be gone for the rest of the day.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, Emma, never question me. Now go.”

  As I exit the car, I watch it take off with a mixture of surprise and anger. Where is he going? I know his schedule and it didn’t mention another meeting. In fact, he has three scheduled for this afternoon alone. What’s he playing at?

  The first person I see when I reach the executive floor is Harriet, and the sight of her lovely smile almost brings me to my knees. “Hey, Emma, how’s it going?”

  I’m not sure what to say and she must see I’m conflicted because she takes hold of my arm and steers me into her office, saying kindly, “Please, take a seat.”

  I do as she says and watch as she pours me a glass of water and says firmly, “It’s ok, you can tell me.”

  Can I? Can I tell this woman what just happened? I doubt it, in fact, I know I can’t, so I just say sadly, “He is very demanding.”

  She nods. “And rude. Don’t forget that particular characteristic trait.”

  A half smile makes its way out and she nods with approval. “At least you can smile, it took Claire three months not to burst into tears at the very mention of his name, you’re doing well.”

  My hand shakes as I raise the glass to my lips and I say sadly, “Why is he so… difficult?”

  “He always has been. Maybe it comes with being super-hot and successful. Nobody tells you ‘no’ because when it comes to men like that, the answer is always yes.”

  She turns away and I detect a slight flush to her cheeks and it strikes me that Harriet has obviously fallen victim to him herself and for some reason, a frisson of jealously passes through me.

  She turns to face me and sighs. “Its early days. Mr Landon is difficult; we both know that but he’s a fair boss. If he likes you, you’ll do well. In order to get him to like you, you must play his game by his rules.”

  “Even if they go against the ones in our contract?”

  “I’m afraid so. Listen, what’s on paper is nothing compared to what he’ll expect from you. I’ve seen strong men break down after a sharp word from him. They fear him because he is so sharp, he destroys any notion they have at getting one over him and loves nothing more than destroying a man before he’s even hung his coat on the hook ready for the day ahead. In fact, the only person I know who truly gets to him is the one woman he can’t appear to shake like an unwanted virus that’s taken hold of his body.”

  I nod. “His wife.”

  She laughs softly, “Yes, Cressida Landon, super-bitch and his match in every way.”

  I feel curious and say with a hint of unease, “What do you know about her?”

  Harriet scoffs, “That she deserves that title. That she plays him and has no interest whatsoever in their marriage. That she can’t stand him and would like nothing more than to be rid of him forever.”

  “Why don’t they separate if they hate each other that much?”

  “Because of money.” Harriet laughs bitterly, and I wonder how she appears to know so much. Sitting on the edge of her desk, she sighs.

  “They both value money higher than happiness. Cressida relies on Julian to fund her lavish lifestyle and give her status amongst her peers. Julian will never leave her because he’s afraid she’ll take most of his fortune. They hate each other, yet need each other to survive. Don’t get me wrong, they make all the right noises in public and you won’t find a bad press report or magazine article on the apparently happy couple but it’s all show. They are systematically destroying each other and one day that dynamite will explode. I just hope we’re not in the district when it does because it’s likely to take with it everything around it.

  She breaks off and appears a little flustered. “I’m sorry, I’m speaking out of turn and forget I said anything. Do you feel a little better now?”

  Placing the glass of water on the desk, I smile with a bravery I certainly don’t feel.

  “Yes, thank you. It was good to talk.”

  She nods and then groans. “Sorry, Emma, I have an interview to conduct in five minutes. I really should be going.”

  “Of course, and… thank you.”

  She smiles softly. “Anytime. You know my door is always open and my ear friendly and willing to hear you out. Don’t be a stranger and don’t face this on your own. We’re here to help you through what could become a very challenging job.”

  I laugh softly, “You’re right there.”

  As I walk away, I feel even more confused than I did before. How on earth am I going to find something that will make Julian happy? This job is certainly not shaping up how I thought it would.

  20

  I throw myself into my work. Not the work I thought I’d be doing, the one given to me by my demanding new boss.

  I must spend hours looking on the internet for any little snippet of information about Cressida Landon. I make notes in a notebook and try to build up a picture of the woman Julian married twelve years ago.

  Her picture stares out at me from every photograph ever taken and published on social media. I see her attending glittering events with her hand placed possessively on her husband’s arm. Earlier ones show the infatuation they shared in the earlier days of their relationship. They look at each other as if they can’t quite believe their luck, and that’s just the sort of look the rest of us now give them. I see their house, their children and their lives, all laid out before me in glorious technicolour. When you move with the rich and powerful, the rest of us lap it up like thirsty dogs. Exotic holidays, fabulous lunches and glittering galas, showcase the couple at their finest.

  If I’m jealous, it’s an emotion nothing like the one of fascination because this couple mesmerise me. They are like movie stars and I wonder when it all started to go so badly wrong for them. Surely, they had it all, then why waste it?

  By the time the light dims outside and
the cleaners move in for the night, I have built up quite the picture of the Landon’s. They seep into every crack in my brain and leave a bad taste in my mouth. I’m better than this. I shouldn’t be doing this – stalking a woman on the instructions of her husband.

  Once again, I think of my boss all the way home and wonder how he spent his day. He never called and any messages I called him with went straight through to voicemail.

  His appointments left angry when I told them he had been called away on urgent business and could they reschedule?

  Is this normal practice for a man at the top of his game? I’m not so sure, given the looks on the faces of the people who left with disappointment written all over their faces.

  I don’t even consider my safety as I walk from the station to my home, deep in concentration and obsessing over the lives of the people I have stalked all day.

  An owl hoots nearby, making me jump out of my skin, and a car sounds its horn as it waits patiently outside a brightly lit house on the street.

  The wind blows and chills my tired body and then I feel it. The fear. Without turning around, I know I am being followed. The sound of footsteps behind me matching my own but slightly offbeat, warn me of approaching danger. I can feel another person behind me and up my pace. They do too, and soon I am almost power walking to create some distance between us.

  A man walks out from his gate a few yards ahead and his dog barks as he sees me approaching. He looks with disinterest as I stop sharply and say in a quivering voice, “Excuse me but do you know the way to Wimborne street?”

  It’s a distraction I need to allow the person following me to pass, but nobody does. I listen to the man with avid concentration, but not for what he’s saying.

  Nobody has passed me.

  Maybe they’ve gone.

  I brave a furtive look behind me and see a man crossing the street further down the road. Was that him? Do I know him?

  The man finishes telling me something I already know and I thank him politely and carry on walking, grateful the coast is clear behind me.

  Was that just a coincidence, or was the man scared off.

  It must be a further five minutes before I almost fall through my front door and quickly lock it behind me. I’m safe. I’m home and nobody can touch me here.

  Ripping my coat from my body with more haste than speed, I race into the kitchen and reach for the phone. This is something to do with Ronnie, I just know it and I need some answers and fast because where I have tried to forget that my life is unravelling around me as I concentrate on my new job, I need to deal with the issue of my missing husband once and for all.

  The phone rings for a while before he says, “Carl Carter.”

  “Carl, it’s Emma.”

  “Oh, hi.” His voice sounds weary and a little detached and I say quickly, “Have you heard from Ronnie?”

  There’s a brief silence and then he sighs heavily. “Nothing I’m afraid, I’m sorry, have you?”

  My heart sinks. “No, not a word. Do you think…?”

  I almost can’t get the words out but say in a frightened whisper, “Do you think we should call the police and report him missing?”

  “No!” His response is quick and definite and takes me back a little. “Why not?”

  “Because he wouldn’t want that.”

  “Screw what he wants, he needs to explain himself. This is an impossible situation, Carl. I’m in limbo here and don’t know if he’s coming back, fled the country, or lying in a ditch somewhere. I need to know; why can’t you see that?”

  There’s a brief silence and then he says with a sigh. “Listen, I’m not telling the whole truth, I did hear from Ronnie by text a couple of days ago.”

  I sit down. “And?”

  “And he wants to be left alone. He told me he was ok and had to get away for a while to sort his head out. He told me you were both going through a tough time and he needed his space. I wasn’t to tell you because it was best that way and he would be in touch when he could but not to worry.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me any of this?”

  I’m angry and it shows in my voice. He sighs and says almost apologetically, “I’m sorry, Emma. I know it’s bad, but he is my brother and I have to respect his wishes.”

  “He’s my husband, doesn’t that count for something amongst all this brotherly love?”

  “Of course, but he told me not to say anything. What happened, Emma, what really went down between you?”

  I slam the phone down, seething with anger. How could he contact Carl and not me? Why would he tell him to say nothing unless…?

  A cold feeling grips me once again as the reality bites. He’s guilty of something and whatever it is concerns me. He is trying to keep me out of it for a reason. Is it to protect me?

  Shivering, I sit at the kitchen table and run through every conversation, every look and every possible scenario in my mind. What has Ronnie done and why is he so secretive about it?

  21

  The days turn into weeks and there’s still no word from Ronnie. I have the feeling I’m being watched but am guessing it’s in my head because I never see anyone. Julian is proving to be a mountain to conquer and many times I sob in the toilet cubicle as I deal with the cutting remarks and derogatory words, he fires like bullets at me every hour of the day. He belittles me and questions my decisions and makes me feel as worthless as a person can ever feel and he does it well. I am a quivering wreck for most of the day and yet in there are those moments that act as antiseptic and take the bitter sting away. The moments where he graces me with a smile and compliments me on a job well done. The moments where his voice softens as he speaks to me and allows me an extra hour for lunch to go shopping and pick up something nice – his treat. He showers me with money after a particularly brutal verbal assault, almost as if the thin worn paper of value will take the sting away.

  Julian Landon is the most complicated man I have ever met, and I have fallen head over heels in love with him.

  They say treat them mean to keen them keen and I can vouch for that. The harder he is on me, the harder I try, just desperate for a kind word or a soft look. When I mess up, his tone is cutting and leaves me in a heap on the toilet floor as I struggle to cope with his disappointment in me.

  I know this isn’t healthy but I come back for more like a drug addict after a high. The lows are soul wrenching and the highs pure ecstasy. Julian Landon is ruining my life and I’m helping him do it.

  Today I return to Barrington’s. Julian is away on business and I have decided to take an early lunch. I need to surround myself in normality to remind me of when life was simpler. When I walk through the familiar doors, the first person I see is the owner, Calvin Hunter, who looks at me in surprise. “Emma, you look…”

  He breaks off because even I know I look amazing. The money I’m now earning has enabled me to have my hair styled professionally. I have spent painstaking hours recreating my make-up from You Tube videos, and the clothes I now wear are purchased from the costlier shops in town that used to be far above my budget. My shoes are Italian leather and my handbag matches them. I am no longer the grey woman with her eyes lowered who still sees everything. I no longer listen out for any snippet of information about the privileged around me because I am now one of them. I still have no friends because people are wary of me. They think I will tell Julian everything they say, and they are right to be cautious. After all, look what happened to Miles Sinclair.

  Almost as soon as I told Julian about his designs on Alice and the executive floor, Julian made it his mission to discredit him in every way possible. The poor guy never caught a break and subsequently was driven mad with anger. He was bypassed for promotion and demoted to a junior with no reason given. Julian made sure he was watched like a hawk and it got so bad he left one day and never returned. It still unnerves me to think how many lives have been ruined through just one slip of my tongue. Then again, it sickens me that the power I feel excites me an
d makes me hungry for more. I am becoming Julian Landon’s bitch in every way but the one I crave, and yet he doesn’t look at me in that way. If he did, I would be the happiest woman alive, but even I know I’m way below his standards.

  “What brings you here, darlin’?”

  Calvin looks at me with interest and I shrug. “I couldn’t keep away from the coffee, after all, it is the best in London.”

  As intended my comment pleases him and he reaches for a mug and says warmly, “Then allow me; on the house, of course.”

  “Is Leah around?” I feel a little disappointed that she’s not working and he shakes his head. “Off with flu. I’m run off my feet because Hailey’s not due in for half an hour.” He looks at me hopefully and I shake my head. “Not happening, Calvin. I’m a customer now and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

  Nodding, he sets about making my drink and says with interest, “So, what are you doing now?”

  “Admin mainly, at Crossline.”

  “Man, that’s impressive. Well, good for you, it’s not often I lose a valued staff member to that organisation.”

  I smile and take my drink and head towards the window. As Julian’s away, I intend on taking a little time out and have a relaxing lunch for once. I don’t normally even take one and just grab a sandwich at my desk most days.

  I settle down to watch the passing crowds and think about how my life has changed in just a few months. I never imagined I would be living alone and working for a man as powerful as Julian Landon. As I contemplate the well-heeled people passing the window, I see many familiar faces. Employees of Crossline, all desperate to succeed and clawing their way to the top with ruthless tenacity, until somebody pulls them out of the way and watches them fall as they take their place.

  Now I am one of them and need to step up my game because Julian’s patience is wearing thin regarding his wife, but there’s nothing more I can do.