She felt the burning sense of frustration surging through her once again. Her hand reached out for her bag to find a pill, but she stopped herself; she’d have to make sure none of her work colleagues spotted her taking medication. It had been some time since she’d felt that combination of loss for Liam and a raging fury that he’d been over the drink-drive limit. How could he have been so damn stupid?
‘Whatever,’ Mackenzie answered, like it was water off a duck’s back. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. Shit happens sometimes. No point wetting your panties over it.’
She continued with her filing in silence. Rosie was anxious that their first interaction didn’t end like that. She had to rekindle old friendships and nurture new ones if this was going to work out for her. It had to go well, or she was in financial trouble.
‘So, have you finished school, Mackenzie, or is this some sort of placement?’
‘I’m finished with school,’ she replied, as if the previous conversation had never taken place. ‘I wasn’t doing anything for a little while. In fact I never really finished school, it just kind of ended. Anyhow, my mam told me I had to do something, or I was out on my arse. So I went for some shitty jobs, and I couldn’t get any. Then David took me on. Told me he couldn’t give me work, but he’d make me an apprentice while I got some skills. And here I am.’
Mackenzie took the gum out of her mouth and just for a moment, Rosie saw that she was actually considering sticking it under her newly delivered desk, like an involuntary action that hadn’t yet been unlearned from school. Instead, she hesitated, then flicked it directly and with startling accuracy into Rosie’s bin.
‘Good shot!’ Rosie replied. She couldn’t come up with any better response than that.
‘That’s what I said to James Bygraves when we got it on in this room. It used to be a great place to sneak off to when that window was covered, and before they took it over for your office. What do you think of James? I think he’s the hottest guy in this office, don’t you?’
Chapter Seven
‘You’ve been a right prick, David, you really have!’
It was five o’clock and Rosie was delighted to have made it through the first day. But the sound of Neil and David having some fallout about the accounts handover was making her stomach churn. She had to pass David’s office to get to reception, but she wanted to give this verbal brawl a wide berth.
‘They had their chance to do due diligence, and it’s not as if you didn’t spend enough time with their accounts team.’
David’s voice was patient and measured. But Neil sounded like he was on the verge of tearing out his superior’s throat and feeding it to his demon children. Rosie knew him of old; the Glaswegian accent made his bark sound far worse than his bite.
She needed to make a dash for the tube, knowing it would rise to a crescendo of rushing workers by half-five. The last thing she needed was to be crammed into the carriages, trapped in a prison of bad breath, body odour and uncomfortable proximity.
Rosie decided to make a run for it. The two men sounded so embroiled by their conversation; they were unlikely to notice her sneaking past David’s door. But that wasn’t her only problem as it turned out.
‘Going home already?’
It was Edward. His office door was wide open, and he was on the prowl.
Rosie stopped and considered her response. It had been difficult enough finding a constructive way into conversation with Mackenzie. She was an odd girl, obsessed with unusual topics, but maybe Rosie was just getting old. She had a kind heart though, and she’d offered to babysit Sam if Rosie ever wanted to go out on a Tinder date or something like that. The thought was there, at least. Rosie thought she’d pass on that for the time being. She really didn’t know what to make of the office apprentice just yet.
‘Well, it is five o’clock, and the staff manual does have that noted as the end of the working day. See, I’ve been reading the information you gave me!’
She said it in as cheery and non-confrontational a way as she could manage.
‘Hmm,’ Edward replied. ‘That’s there as a guide rather than a rule.’
It looked pretty much like a rule to Rosie, but she wasn’t going to quibble; she had a tube train to catch.
‘I’ll be here until at least seven o’clock doing the company’s work.’
More fool you, she thought.
‘Well, as you’ll know from David, I have to get back home to relieve my dad from child-minding duties. He’s been looking after Sam all day and he’s supposed to be retired. I don’t want to take advantage of his good nature.’
‘Maybe you need to reconsider your childcare options?’ Edward suggested.
‘The staff book says that Silverline Supply Chains is a family-friendly work environment,’ Rosie ventured. ‘I do hope that’s not just paying lip-service to the idea?’
Edward didn’t miss a beat.
‘As I said, these are just guidelines. Don’t think of the staff handbook as a legal document. It’s more of a wish list, an aspiration. I like to think that if people are happy enough to draw a salary from the company, they’ll be just as content to put in a full day’s work.’
Rosie took some long breaths to calm herself down. It wouldn’t be the smartest idea to get into a fight with the HR guy on her first day in the office.
‘I’ve taken my lead from how David used to run the office. I’m sure it won’t take me long to get a feel for how things work around here now,’ she said, in a neutral tone.
‘David isn’t in charge any more. It’s no longer his company. He’s serving out his agreed handover period; then he’s out of here. You might say I make the rules now,’ Edward continued, sharp and without emotion.
His words hung there for a moment, while Rosie considered what response she might give. Instead of coming up with something smart or witty, she just bungled her way out of it.
‘Well, I’d best be going. I’ve noted what you said about working hours – thanks for the heads-up. Cheerio!’
She gave a wave and shot along the corridor. Neil and David were still shouting at each other. She wondered if she’d entered some parallel universe, the easy-going tone in the building having vanished in the two years since she’d been away. She couldn’t put her finger on it; everybody seemed on edge, as if expecting a big fight to kick off at any moment. It sounded like Neil and David were having theirs already.
‘As the top guy in the organisation, you’re supposed to have a grasp of all this, David.’
‘You’ve been here long enough to know that I rely on people like you for things like that.’
Rosie paused at the side of the door, waiting for one of them to speak, then darted across the opening as fast as she could manage. She made a mess of it, dropping her phone onto the floor. Both men stopped and looked at her. Rosie glanced at them, embarrassed at having been caught.
‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, forcing a smile.
David and Neil cooled for a moment, aware for the first time that their disagreement was being heard throughout the building.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t caught up with you properly today, Rosie,’ David began, with a look of embarrassment. ‘I promise I’ll make time tomorrow. Just call in to my office whenever you want.’
‘Will do,’ she replied, desperate to be on her way.
‘See you later, Rosie.’ Neil said, more gently. ‘Sorry you had to hear that on your first day back in the office. Things have changed around here since you were away. And not for the best.’
‘No problem, Neil. Bye!’
She gave a wave and darted towards reception. Haylee had gone already, like a whippet out of a trap, leaving the phones on night service. She was the lucky one – she could make her escape straight out of the front door, so nobody ever saw her go. So unlike before, when she called by the other offices and have a chat before leaving, Rosie recalled.
James Bygraves was sitting on one of the comfortable chairs in the reception area. He
was reading a brochure, but didn’t look engaged, as if simply passing the time.
‘Hi, James,’ Rosie began, ‘Have you got a long journey home?’
Rosie had done the maths in her head. She’d missed that crucial time to beat the rush hour crush. She figured she may as well get to know another one of her work colleagues, now she was committed to cattle-truck travel.
‘Hi Rosie,’ he replied, seemingly pleased to be able to place the bland brochure back onto the coffee table and do something more interesting. ‘How was your first day?’
‘Unusual,’ Rosie replied. It was the only way she could describe it.
‘Hah – you can say that again. I see all sorts of workplace cultures in my temp work. This one is pretty unique.’
‘It never used to be that way,’ Rosie said. ‘Once upon a time, you’d have heard howls of laughter coming from these offices at this time of day. It used to oil the wheels well – most of us rubbed along nicely.’
‘Well, you’ll be treated to a day of full-on Edward soon,’ James smiled.
‘Oh yes, what’s happening?’
‘You know about the away day?’ he asked.
‘No, when’s that?’
Nobody had mentioned an away day.
‘Next Saturday, on Valentine’s Day of all days.’
‘You’re kidding?’ she asked. ‘Is it compulsory? Where is it?’
‘Yes, it’s compulsory. And it’s somewhere in Kent. Edward didn’t even see fit to leave us in London.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Rosie cussed, ‘I’ve only just got here, and they’re messing around with my childcare days. You’re certain it’s not this Saturday? I have something on this weekend.’
‘No, next Saturday and Sunday, and you can have one day off in lieu. Still, it’s of no concern to me this year. It’ll take my mind off things on Valentine’s Day. This time last year, I was in a relationship. This year, I’m all on my own. I’ll be grateful for the distraction, I reckon.’
He made a good point. He wasn’t the only one going home to a house with no adult company. Rosie recalled what Mackenzie had told her about James earlier on that day. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to behave like that. She wondered if their apprentice was making things up. And if so, what would make her do such a thing?
Chapter Eight
Rosie had decided to get some shopping in at the Express store on the way over to the tube, and James had come with her. Her father had texted that he and Sam weren’t back from their adventures yet, so she didn’t feel guilty about getting home a little later. She was more tired than she’d expected too, and the thought of throwing a ready-made meal into the microwave was tempting.
James had taken it in his stride when she’d told him she had a baby. That was a good start, at least. He was her kind of age too, thirty to thirty-five she reckoned. Too old for a youngster like Mackenzie, surely?
She’d gently probed a bit, trying to see if he would spill the beans about the claims that Mackenzie had made. It just didn’t sit right. Besides, James was a temp. He’d be sacked if he got caught having inappropriate relations with the apprentice in the filing room. She didn’t need to read Edward’s boring handbook to know that much. Mackenzie would be fired too.
As she sat on the sofa, the lights dimmed, Sam asleep upstairs in his bedroom and her father now fed, watered and on his way home, Rosie thought about what James had told her. Thank God her dad was clear to provide child cover the following weekend. It was Sam’s birthday on Sunday, the most difficult day of the year for Rosie. She’d be celebrating one birth while mourning one stillborn child and a dead, over the drink-drive limit husband.
It would be the first year she’d tackled it free of tranquilisers. The year before, she’d been lying in a psychiatric hospital in a drug-induced stupor. The year before that, surgeons had been fighting to save her life and the life of her unborn babies. Two years after, almost to the day, she was expected to smile sweetly – alongside Sam’s young friend and his mother – and help to blow out the candles on a sickly birthday cake with a picture of Peppa Pig iced on it.
At least Sam had done the decent thing and managed to hang on until after midnight. The one saving grace about the entire sorry episode was that Liam and Phoebe had died before the stroke of midnight, meaning that Sam’s birthday was on a different day.
Vera had coached her through that.
‘Separate the days,’ she’d advised. ‘Make the first day a day of mourning. Howl at the moon, stomp, scream, shout – do whatever you have to in order to grieve over Phoebe and Liam. But when that clock strikes midnight, remember it’s a brand new day. The next day brought a new life into the world. Celebrate that, rejoice that Sam is alive, and embrace the life that you have before you. Your life didn’t end in that crash either, Rosie. In many ways, it was only just getting started.’
Vera was right. She usually was. She must have seen so many depressed and desperate people in her line of work that she probably had an answer for everything. But it worked for Rosie. It helped her to navigate a way through it. On Saturday, she would tend the graves with Sam in his pushchair, leave flowers, buy Phoebe a new soft toy and do a lot of crying. On Sunday, Leonie would come round with Owen, and they’d stuff themselves with crisps and cake, watch two toddlers snatching toys from each other and no doubt sneak in a glass of wine. It was worth the risk of mixing the alcohol with her drugs – if she couldn’t celebrate one day of the year, what else was there left for her?
At the Express store, James had told her that Edward called at his house sometimes. He would arrive during an evening or weekend and ask him something trivial about work. James warned her to watch out for it.
‘One Saturday morning, it was just past nine o’clock, and Edward turned up. I didn’t know what to say. He wanted to ask me about something I’d been working on that week.’
‘Couldn’t it have waited until Monday?’ Rosie asked.
‘That’s what I said,’ James replied. ‘I was really cross with him, but I didn’t have anything else lined up work-wise, so I couldn’t tell him to piss off. I wanted to, that’s for sure.’
It had unsettled Rosie once again. What was Edward doing calling on staff outside of work hours? David Willis had never needed to do that in all the time she’d worked there previously. It was just one more thing that seemed to be messed up at the firm. Most of it tracked back to Edward. He was a strange man.
Rosie picked up her phone. It was her lifeline, with her father looking after Sam so much. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t even be bothered to turn on the TV. Instead, she idly scrolled through her Facebook posts, barely absorbing the content and looking at the pictures and videos to pass the time before heading for bed.
A message request appeared on her screen from James Bygraves. She had to accept the request to see the message. James hadn’t completed his profile. There was no photograph and nothing to identify him other than the name. It made sense that he might want to connect after their genial chat that evening. She hadn’t made many Facebook friends in the psychiatric unit. In fact, she hadn’t received a new friend request for some time.
Rosie accepted the message request and looked to see what James was sending. She recoiled instantly when she opened up the image. She’d expected some silly meme poking fun at Edward Logan after their earlier conversation in the Express store. Instead, he’d sent her a dickpic. She couldn’t believe it. Her face burned with anger, embarrassment and shame. A heady cocktail of wild emotions coursed through her body and she began to panic, reaching out instinctively for her pills.
Why the hell was James Bygraves sending her obscene images? They’d only just met, as work colleagues. What was he thinking of? He was her age, not a kid. Maybe that’s how Mackenzie’s generation behaved, but there was nothing about James Bygraves that suggested he would do something as crass as that.
Rosie threw the phone onto the sofa cushion, jumped up, took a pill out of its foil and ran herself a glass of wate
r at the kitchen sink. She gulped down the tablet like it was the cure to the plague, then marched into the hallway to make sure that the front door was locked, hooking the safety chain on and checking twice that it was fastened.
After pacing the hallway for a few minutes, Rosie returned to her phone. Had she imagined it? Sometimes, when she was on the stronger drugs, she struggled to tell reality from fantasy, like that voice in her room that time. There was never any proof that anybody had been in there with her, touching her leg. She assumed she’d imagined it. Was she making this up as well?
She picked up her phone with the nervous reluctance of a woman who might have been receiving some much-feared test results. The image was still there, a single picture. It was his name too; there was no doubt that it been sent via that account. Rosie deleted the image and checked out the profile. There was nothing; no friends, no likes, no other pictures. It was completely blank. Was this Phil and Terry messing around? Surely not. They were politically incorrect, but both were married men with many years of family life racked up between them. Whatever they lacked in good taste, they were not predatory; they would never do something like that.
Rosie wanted to scream, feeling as if she was beginning to spiral again. She’d been settled for several weeks now and had even begun to think there might be a time when she didn’t need any medication.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, just as Vera had told her to do. Then she closed down Facebook and gave her friend a call. She needed help, and she needed it straight away.
Chapter Nine
After only one day back at work, Rosie was on Skype with Vera. She’d hoped to last out longer than that, but the disturbing image on her phone had badly shaken her. She doubted herself so much that she wanted her friend to see the profile via the laptop’s webcam and confirm she wasn’t seeing things.
‘Do you think it is this James fellow?’ Vera asked. ‘He doesn’t sound like the type who sends nude images over the internet.’
Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets Page 5
