Last Child

by Terry Tyler

  She flounced out, leaving the door to my office wide open. Shit. What to do next? I’d had all these plans, but I couldn’t put any of them into action.

  I went in to see Jim, and told him what had happened.

  “Hmm.” He smiled his gorgeous sexy smile; I felt too battered and insecure to feel awash with love, like I usually did. “Don’t worry, pet. Just teething trouble. I’ve called a directors’ meeting for Wednesday, so that I can put her in the picture about new projects already in motion,” he said. “I wanted to have it today, but she’s too busy flying around making a nuisance of herself.”

  “Great,” I said, sitting back in my chair and folding my arms. “So what do I do with myself until then? I don’t even know if I’ve got anything to do.”

  Jim got up, walked around his desk and sat on the edge of it, so close to me that I could smell his aftershave and, despite myself, the usual waves of lust overcame me.

  “Listen, darling,” he said. “Even if I have to tie her to her chair and gag her so she’ll hear me out, by the end of Wednesday she’ll have okayed all my plans, and we can move forward. She’ll be crazy not to, everything I want to do makes good financial sense, and if there’s any voting to be done, I’ve got far more people in my corner than she has. So stop worrying. And get on with what you would have been doing if Isabella hadn’t seeped into your room like a bad smell and put the mockers on it, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, managing a weak smile.

  “I’m sorry this hasn’t turned out the way we hoped. But it will, eventually.”

  Isabella’s angry, snooty face popped into my head, and a thought occurred to me. Her brother died only a few weeks ago. I wondered how I’d behave if I’d lost Storm.

  “She’s got to come in and run this huge, sprawling company, when she’s just lost her little brother,” I said.

  “I know. I’m aware of what she’s going through. So—all the more reason to let me continue to do what I do best. I’m not totally without heart; he was a canny lad, Jasper. It’s a terrible thing, what happened to him.” He looked up to make sure the door was shut, leant down and kissed me. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. Straight from work. Leave the cars here and get a cab. I’ll ring Jean and tell her we’re having meetings ’til late; she’ll expect that, as it’s Madam’s first day back.” He stroked my hair. “I’ll say I’m going for drinks with Tim and Nick afterwards, to let off steam. Good excuse to get a cab home, late.”

  The thought of a whole six or seven hours together put me in a calmer frame of mind. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s not go out; let’s pick up some deli stuff, go back to mine and slide into the bath. Tons of bubbles. And wine.” I took his hand from my head and kissed it. “I might even light the odd candle.”

  “Fuck it, let’s go now! Right, we’ll knock off no later than five, okay? I’ll be jumping out of windows to get out of this place by then.”

  As we lay in bed that evening he said to me, “you know, now that we’re together all day, I forget that Jean’s even my wife. It feels as though you are, already, because I hope you will be, one day. I walk in the house and I think, what am I doing here? It seems ludicrous that I have to go back there at all,” which made me feel very, very happy indeed.

  The next day I met Erin. Jim was right; she was dazzling. Dazzling and every bit the posh little rich girl like Isabella, but so different. Open, natural. I warmed to her immediately. She came in just to say hello; Robert had told her about me after I’d been to Calais, she said. I offered my condolences about her brother, and it didn’t feel at all false or awkward, probably because my sentiments were genuine. I wanted to talk to her for longer; I hoped we might be friends.

  “Good luck with my sister,” she said, before she left.

  Looking back, I can hear the words ‘you’re going to need it’ tagged on to the end of that sentence.

  I spent the day doing nothing in particular as I didn’t know where the hell any of our plans were going. Jim spent the evening with me again; we drove straight back to my flat after work as if we lived together, phoned for a takeaway and snuggled up on the sofa, drinking wine and talking about our day, which made it seem even more ridiculous that he had to get up, get dressed and drive home at half past eleven.

  Wednesday afternoon was the time designated for the big meeting with Isabella—directors only: Jim, Isabella, Erin, Will, Tony and several others. I hung on and hung on; at six o’clock I bumped into Will’s secretary in the loo, who told me that she’d just rung for pizza for them all, so I knew there was no point in my waiting around. I pushed off home, thinking Jim would be bound to phone me when the meeting was over, but he didn’t. I texted him, at nine o’clock. He texted me back fifteen minutes later.

  Not long got in, stopped off for drink. Not good, but don’t worry. Can’t talk, I’ll tell you all 2moro. Goodnite and I love you xxx

  He’d been to the pub, but he hadn’t rung me. How could I not worry?

  I woke up early, my stomach turning over with nerves. I couldn’t bear being at home, pacing about and wondering if I ought to start smoking, so I set off to work at seven-thirty. I’d thought getting there before eight meant that I’d be able to talk to Jim, but he had yet to arrive. I sat in my quiet office, drinking coffee and flicking between screens; I’d been given that super-smart office, but I had nothing to do in it. Jim had told me to get on with what we’d planned, but what was the point? I couldn’t start a publicity campaign for a hotel I’d been instructed was on the market.

  At nine-thirty he came into my office. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone.

  “Emma, can you give us a minute, please?” he said, waiting until she’d left before giving me a quick kiss.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Jim, my head’s all over the place—I need to know what happened at the meeting; and I have still got a job, haven’t I? I’ve got a contract, right?”

  “Of course you have,” he said, in a hushed voice as if someone might hear. “Look—it didn’t go well yesterday, and despite Erin, Tony and most of the others being behind me she’s adamant that we suck up any losses incurred, get rid of Calais, sell on the land I’ve bought, scrap the plans that have already been drawn up, the lot. But I think a lot of that was just her showing everyone who’s boss—I’m going in to see her at eleven. I was awake all night working out how best to approach it.” He bit his lip. “Actually, I think the best way might be to flirt with her a bit, lay on the charm. Be nice; I’ve done the ‘sound business proposition’ stuff and it didn’t work; I think it’s time to try a different tack.”

  “Whatever you think will work.”

  “Don’t worry. Listen, darling, I’m good at this stuff. I’ll be her friend. Might not be such a bad idea in the long run, either; she hasn’t got many.”

  He dragged me into the little cloakroom alcove where we couldn’t be seen by anyone through the window, and held me close. It felt so good to be in his arms.

  “I missed you so much last night,” he said. “I hated not being with you.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I didn’t care about any of it, right then; I just wanted to be with him somewhere, anywhere, where we could be together without all this crap. Then I blinked back the tears, and looked up at him. “I love you,” I said. “Make it all right.”

  “Of course I will,” he said. “I’m going to talk her round, whatever it takes. We’re going to be together and have our great life, remember?”

  Then his phone rang and he had to go; I spent the rest of the morning trying to look busy, and re-reading the document about the company in an effort to impress Queen Isabella.

  At five to eleven I texted Jim to wish him good luck; he answered with ‘xxx’.

  At twelve-thirty I went down the corridor to his office; his secretary told me he was still in with Ms Lanchester.

  At one-fifteen I tried again, and was told that his meeting was over, but he’d gone out for lunch.

  Without me.

>   Perhaps he just needed a bit of time alone. Perhaps he had a lunch meeting, elsewhere. Either way, I felt sick. I went back to my own office and looked out of the window. I saw Isabella stalk out to her car and drive away.

  I couldn’t settle on anything. I told Emma I was going out, went to Hampton’s wine bar in the town, and had a large vodka and tonic.

  I was back by two-fifteen. Jim was still not back at two-thirty.

  At two forty-five I had a phone call from Isabella’s secretary to say that my presence was required in her office.

  If I’d felt sick before, it was nothing compared with how I felt now.

  As I stood up from my desk I looked out of the window again, to see Jim walking across the car park towards the office. He walked slowly, one hand in his pocket, a cigarette in the other, his head down.

  Isabella looked up as I walked in, and gestured to the seat opposite her. I sat down and waited while she flicked through a document. My contract of employment.

  She looked up, still not smiling. “I’m sorry, Miss Grey, I’m afraid Lanchester Estates won’t be needing your services after all,” she said. “I’d like you to clear your desk as soon as this meeting is over.”

  I felt as though all the blood in my body had rushed to my head. “What? But—with all due respect, Miss Lanchester, you’ve got my contract in front of you. I’m guaranteed a trial period of at least three months in which I know I can prove what I can do—I haven’t had a chance to show you, yet—”

  I was sweating. I could feel it, all over me.

  Her expression didn’t change. “Yes, well, unfortunately you were employed to do a job that doesn’t exist. I apologise, and I do understand the terms of the contract; you’ll be paid two months’ salary to compensate for the inconvenience, and you’re perfectly welcome to sue us for the third, if you wish.”

  “But—”

  She leant her elbows on the table, fingers intertwined. She had short, unpainted nails. “You’re a bright girl, I’m sure you can find another position without much difficulty.” I didn’t answer; I was scared I was going to cry. “That’s all,” she said. “I wish you well in your future career, of course.”

  I stood up. My legs were shaking. I heard myself giving it one last shot, even though I suspected I was making a fool of myself. “But—but even if you’re not going ahead with the plan for the hotels, I can still do so much for the company—”

  Her eyes looked dead; icy. One corner of her mouth tilted upwards, though it was hardly a smile. “I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, dear,” she said, “I know Jim’s secretary gave you a document all about the company so that you could mug up and impress me, and the fact that you did so is commendable in itself. Unfortunately, the document was lacking in the details that matter; if you knew about the real history of Lanchester Estates, you’d know why I’d never, ever employ a PR girl who got the job by opening her legs for the right person. I don’t want a PR department at all but even if I did, the last person I’d want to run it would be Jim Dudley’s floozy.” She turned away, and started scrolling through her phone. “Close the door on your way out.”

  I don’t even remember leaving her room and walking back to my own. She knew. How? No one knew! Only three people did. Dana? But she was nothing to do with Lanchester Estates; she’d never managed to pull Nick Throckmorton, and I knew Jim would never have told anyone.

  Rob? Had Rob guessed? No, surely not; we’d have known before now if he had.

  In my office, I sat down, in a daze. Emma’s desk was already packed up and empty, the computer switched off. I opened my drawers and started taking out my few possessions. I left the office looking clean, tidy and unused, turned off the light and closed the door on my career at Lanchester Estates.

  I found Jim clearing his desk, too. He was busy packing stuff into boxes. Personal items; photographs, his books, that sort of thing. He looked up as I walked in, and stopped what he was doing. He just looked; he didn’t come towards me.

  “I know she knows, but she can’t get rid of you, too,” I said, my voice coming out weak, croaky. “She can’t just sack someone at your level; you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Sit down,” he said. I sat.

  He could hardly look at me. He didn’t perch on his desk, near me, as he usually did when I came in to see him, but sat behind it in his big leather chair, the barrier of the desk between us.

  “The game’s up, it’s all over,” he said. “She asked me to resign.”

  “But she can’t! Even though she knows about us, it’s hardly a sackable offence, is it? And the hotel project—you started it when you were acting managing director—"

  “Without putting it to the board,” he said. “Without running it past her.” He put his head in his hands, then looked back up at me. “It was never voted on, which is against company policy for an acting MD. She’s using what she knows about us as a weapon to get rid of me, which is what she’s always wanted to do. Blackmail, in other words, and I can’t do a thing about it. She gave me two options. If I resign without fuss and sell my shares in the company back to her, our relationship remains our secret. If I don’t, she goes to Jean and tells her about her husband’s affair which, she has been reliably informed, has been going on since at least last December.”

  “Last December we were in Calais,” I whispered. “Rob.”

  “No, not Rob, at least not directly, and not at first,” he said. “It was a friend of the family, an ex-nanny of Erin and Jasper’s, who saw us together last week. Outside Sainsbury’s, of all places. I believe you and she exchanged a few words, before you got into the car with me. She told Isabella last night—Erin was there, too, and she confirmed it. Erin’s known for ages, apparently. Don’t blame her; she’s already phoned me to apologise and I got the impression she didn’t consider the implications of what she was saying. Blurted it out after about five too many glasses of wine, as if it was just idle gossip. But the damage had already been done by then, anyway.”

  “I remember the nanny.” I thought back to the woman outside Sainsbury’s. I couldn’t even recall her face.

  “Erin told me that young Jasper saw us together once, too. Not that it matters, now.”

  “The nanny saw us kissing. In the car.”

  “Correct. Wrong place, wrong time,” Jim said. He pulled at his tie, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “Yeah, Rob sussed it in Calais. He went to my room to tell me something, early one morning before breakfast, and of course I wasn’t there and my phone was off. So he went along to your room to ask you to tell me whatever it was, and there he heard, shall we say, certain sounds that led him to believe I was in there with you.” He looked embarrassed, and averted his eyes. Jim, embarrassed about us? “Not the nicest thing to hear, but Rob’s not a kid, I don’t imagine for one moment that he’s completely faithful to Amy all those weeks they’re apart—and he’s always been much closer to me than to his mam.” He looked at his hands. “He discussed it with Erin and they both decided it was not his place to tell Jean.”

  That was when it began to sink in. “And you’re resigning, so she won’t find out,” I said, slowly.

  So he was just like any other married man with a bit on the side, after all. Jean not finding out about us was so important that he was willing to lose his job over it. I was shaking all over. I couldn’t stop it.

  “But you were planning to leave her at some point in the not too distant future. You were, weren’t you? One year, you said.”

  He spun his chair round to his left, away from me, and looked up at the ceiling. “Yes, when I’d put all my plans into action. You know I was. But I’ve had to rethink the timeframe.”

  I willed him to look at me, but he didn’t. He spun his chair round again and flopped over the desk, head in hands.

  “Raine, I’ve got two options.” He sounded completely defeated. “Staying here means I lose everything. Isabella tells Jean, Jean will divorce me, and I’ll lose my home—well, all three of t
hem—and everything I’ve got. Her da’ will make damn sure I get nowt, and that my name will be mud everywhere. All the contacts I’ve got within the industry, they’ll close their doors to me. So, I’ll still have a job here, but what sort of job? I’ll have no standing in the company, no power to make decisions, with just my measly five percent. No authority over anything at all. She’s dismissed everything I’ve worked for, and I can’t talk her round, I’ve tried and tried, but she doesn’t want to know. If I stay I’ll just be Isabella’s puppet, doing her bidding. She hates me; she’d make my life hell, and enjoy doing it.”

  “But you’d be living with me,” I said.

  At last, he looked at me. “Yes, but with nothing. All I’d have is the dividend from the shares, which I might as well sell back to her anyway now, because she’s going to fuck the company up good and proper, she hasn’t got a clue. Yes, we could buy a house somewhere but I’ll go from being kingpin to just some schmuck with a salaried management job, answering to that bitch. Not ‘the man’ anymore, but a daft loser who had to accept being demoted. I’d lose everyone’s respect, and be undermined by her every step of the way—she’ll make me wish I had resigned. I’ll be on a treadmill, coming home every night after yet another fucking awful day, and trying not to take it out on you. Resenting her every minute. I can’t do it, Raine.”

  He kept calling me Raine; not darling, or pet, or any of the endearments he usually used.

  “So what now?” Reality was dawning on me. “You’ve resigned, so Jean won’t find out. So what now?”

  “Well, she’ll want to know why I’ve resigned, won’t she? So I’ll make up some shit about not being able to work with Isabella—which isn’t entirely untrue, of course—and her father will think I’m a useless weak idiot, but he’ll find me a job somewhere in his empire, and I’ll be at his beck and call, no doubt, but at least I’ll manage to keep everything I’ve got, even if it remains in Jean’s name.” He lit a cigarette, obviously beyond caring that he was not allowed to do so. “I’ve got to think of another way out; I’m starting again from scratch.”