A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger (25 page)

She stopped talking as John arrived. ‘Right, ladies, time to go.' He strode off ahead with the researchers, throwing me a fleeting smile.

Margot snorted derisively. ‘That's the second thing for which I have proof,' she said lightly.

‘What?' I asked.

‘Your affair with John,' she explained, as if talking a child through an arithmetic problem. I stopped walking.

‘You slept with him finally on Wednesday night after your “business meeting” in town. Now, Charley, I'm not sure that's a sackable offence but we both know Bradley Chambers in Washington has a soft spot for you. And we both know he'd be none too pleased if he found out that John was fucking you.'

My phone started to ring. ‘Sorry, Charley, but there's problems with Sky News,' Cassie said. ‘Can you call them?'

‘OK,' I said dully. ‘I'll see what I can do.'

‘Thanks. And I'm afraid that animal-rights group launched a huge viral campaign against us this morning. I need you to get online ASAP.'

‘Right,' I said. ‘Will do.' I ended the call and felt my precious world crumbling around me once again.

I had not made it. Nothing was perfect. Last night's euphoria felt suddenly absurd and embarrassing, a pathetic little self-indulgent celebration. Margot despised me and now had me in her power and, depending on how evil she was feeling, I could lose Salutech, John and even First Date Aid by the end of today. There would be no mercy.

‘OK, take the press conference,' I said desperately. We were nearing the entrance to Television Centre, a place that normally filled me with excitement but now filled me with despair. Would this placate her for now?

She smiled politely. ‘I also want to do all major interviews. And the round-up video conference with Washington at the end of the day.' I stared at her. ‘I want your job,' she explained kindly. ‘And I'll get your job. But I won't get it by behaving like a whore around John MacAllister. I'll get it because now you're going to get the fuck out of my way and let me demonstrate how well I can do it.'

‘OK?' she added, when I failed to respond.

I looked ahead at John and the researchers, marching into Reception full of excitement and bravado. Our best patient advocate, who'd been waiting on a sofa, jumped up and shook their hands warmly. Everyone was laughing and smiling.

This was their day, not mine. ‘John,' I called. He turned round.

‘Be very fucking careful,' Margot whispered, her plastic smile unmoving. We walked into Reception together.

‘John, I, er, feel very faint. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm going to have to hand over to Margot for the next hour or so,' I said. I sat down sharply on a coloured bench, realizing that, as far as the nearly fainting bit went, I was actually telling the truth. ‘I'll come and find you when I feel better,' I added weakly.

‘Lambert?' John said, crouching in front of me. ‘What's wrong? Shall I get a doctor?'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Margot scowling. ‘No, no,' I said. ‘I'll be fine. Probably just all that caffeine on an empty stomach. Margot'll look after it.'

John looked over his shoulder at Margot, who flashed him her most capable, businesslike smile. He looked back at me. ‘OK,' he said eventually. As he strode off into the bowels of Television Centre with Margot, he glanced back, confused and concerned.

I slumped on my bench and despaired.

An hour later, having responded to all the messages on my BlackBerry, I signed in to go and find something to eat in the canteen. ‘She can't do this,' I muttered to myself, as I gnawed listlessly at a starchy bagel.
Oh, but she can
, my head replied quickly.
She's got enough on you to have your desk cleared in twenty minutes.

Hailey
, I thought. Hailey was my first port of call during a crisis. But as soon as she picked up the phone I knew it was a mistake: for whatever reason she'd gone back to
being weird and slightly distant. ‘Just tell Margot to shove her BlackBerry up her arse,' she said distractedly.

I was on my own.

I sat down again on the bench just as Margot swept into Reception, chatting and laughing with John and the others. She swung a BBC pass between her fingers and I was rigid with fear once more. I stood up and straightened my suit jacket nervously as John led me away from the group.

‘Are you better, Lambert?' he asked, genuinely concerned. But as I tried to formulate the response, Margot arrived at his side.

‘The press interviews start at Claridges in twenty-five minutes,' she said. ‘Our car's waiting. We have to go.'

‘I'll come when I'm ready,' John said, not breaking eye contact with me. Then the chief researcher plucked at his sleeve and John had to turn away, leaving me with Margot.

‘One email to Bradley Chambers telling him where your attention's been recently,' Margot whispered brightly to me. ‘Just one, that's all I need. I think it'd be best if you throw the towel in for today, Charley.'

John turned back to us. ‘Well, Charley? Are you OK?'

I hung my head. ‘No,' I said. ‘I … need to go back to the hotel, I think. I'm so sorry.'

There was a stunned silence. ‘But,' John began, ‘we have the
press conference
in two hours. I – Charley, we need you!' His eyes searched mine for the usual spark, for the die-hard director of comms who was always ready for battle, but he found nothing.

He walked me over to the bench and made me sit down. His thumb moved over my forearm gently. ‘Lambert?'

I had no more fight in me. Tears were sliding out of my eyes; the sight clearly stunned him.

‘Oh, my God,' he said. ‘You really are sick.'

I nodded, not even trusting myself to speak. ‘Go on,' I whispered. ‘Go get 'em. Margot's got it covered. She'll do a grand job.'

I woke up the next morning with no idea what day of the week it was and, for a few blissful seconds, I existed in a pleasant no man's land: no blackmail, no fear, no shame.

But it didn't take long for it all to come flooding back. I felt my whole body tense as I relived yesterday. Every awful moment, from that phone call to Margot through to my early flight back to Edinburgh.
What would Margot do next?
However I tried to talk it up in my head, the fact of the matter was that I had plummeted from senior director to sitting duck in a mere twenty-four hours. I was entirely at her mercy.

John had emailed late last night to say that everyone at the press conference was disappointed that I was ill. Margot had done ‘a reasonable job' but he had rejected her plans to do the round-up chat with Bradley Chambers in Washington, opting instead to do it himself. I wasn't surprised: John let very few people near the super-holy Chambers.
PS
, he wrote.
I struggled to think about anything today beyond the sight of you wrapped around me like a smooth peachy monkey. I am enthralled by you, Lambert. Enslaved. Enchanted. X

I managed a grim smile. At least I had the boss onside.

But the smile faded as soon as I remembered that that was part of the problem. And if John found out I'd been
running a business he'd probably despatch me quicker than you could say ‘smooth peachy monkey'.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bass-baritone voice starting up in the shower with a rousing chorus of (rather surprisingly) ‘Onward Christian Soldiers'. I couldn't help but grin. Apart from that girl last weekend – who appeared to have been a one-off – Sam had changed beyond all recognition. Gone was the slob I'd lived with for so many years and in his place was a hard-working, confident and inspiring chap, who was shaving regularly, remembering to put the bins out and making some quite outstanding middle-class salads.

The shower stopped and with it Sam's singing, much to my disappointment. ‘CHAS?' he yelled, exiting the bathroom and marching into the kitchen. ‘You awake yet? I'm making breakfast!'

‘Hello, weird-healthy-morning Bowes,' I said, shuffling into the kitchen a few minutes later.

Sam was getting fresh berries and some very posh yoghurt out of the fridge. ‘Organic,' he announced casually.

I signalled my approval and sat down at the breakfast bar. He served me fruit and yoghurt and then got some amazing granola out of a glass jar. ‘Coffee? I've got some lovely Colombian.'

I put my spoon down. I couldn't take any more of this. ‘Sam, what has
happened
to you?'

He laughed. ‘I feel great, that's what's happened!'

I watched him as he bustled round the kitchen with bowls of healthy fayre. ‘I've
loved
the last week, getting stuck in to our company. It's going so well, Chas, and I think we could make it really big …' He trailed off, sticking
some yoghurt into his mouth. ‘Isn't life
great
?' he asked happily.

And without further ado I burst into tears.

‘Urgh,' was Sam's response to my tales of woe. ‘Messy.'

I nodded miserably and Sam covered my hand for a moment. ‘Don't beat yourself up,' he said. ‘I know what you're like. There
will
be a solution.'

‘What, though? Even if I'd managed to remove my name from the First Date Aid website after handing it over to you – which I didn't – she knows that I've been sleeping with John.'

Sam winced. ‘Well, it's not great. But you're not actually breaking your contract doing either of those things, are you?'

‘Oh, come on, Bowes! You know what Salutech's like!'

There was an uncomfortable silence.

‘Maybe just try to forget about it for today, brother,' he said uncertainly. ‘See how it all pans out on Monday.'

I stared morosely into my granola. Sam was useless in difficult situations. Why couldn't he
talk
to me? Like, really talk, the way he did as William?

‘How's about we cheer you up by calling William or Shelley to find out how the big date went?' he said. ‘It was last night!'

After a pause I shrugged. I'd give anything a try. I got out my phone so that we could call Shelley first.

‘CHARLOTTE!' Shelley hissed. ‘I'M IN HIS BEDROOM! HE'S MAKING KIPPERS!'

I smiled, in spite of myself. ‘It went well, then?'

‘YESSSSS. THE OPERA WAS BEAUTIFUL. THEN HE GOT ME DRUNK AND I … OOPS!'

Sam started laughing and had to put his hand over his mouth. I was grateful to Shelley for bringing comedy into my doom-filled morning.

‘I'm so pleased,' I told her. ‘I'll leave you to your breakfast. Enjoy!'

‘WOULD YOU LIKE A TESTIMONIAL FOR YOUR WEBSITE? I OWE YOU SO MUCH, CHARLOTTE.'

Sam nodded voraciously.

‘Actually, yes. That would be great.'

‘I'LL EMAIL IT TODAY. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT, CHARLOTTE, I WAS WEARING A DRESS THAT MADE ME LOOK REALLY FLAT-CHESTED BUT HE STILL SEEMED TO BE ATTRACTED TO ME!' she hissed.

‘Went amazingly,' William whispered, a few minutes later. We heard him pull the grill out to inspect the kippers. ‘She was wearing a stunning dress, Sam – made her cleave look bloody enormous!'

I shook my head despairingly.

‘Bonza.' Sam chuckled. ‘So, what next?'

‘Well, mate, I was hoping you'd have some ideas. Is it OK to ask her round here for dinner?'

Sam looked surprised. ‘Of course! Nothing'd feel quite so special as having dinner cooked for me by someone I cared about.'

I, too, was surprised. I hadn't expected to hear Sam say something like that. I'd thought his ideal date would be a naked sumo wrestle for two on his bed.

‘OK …' William mused.

‘So, William, happy with services rendered?' Sam had switched back to the new work voice I'd been hearing recently.

‘Couldn't be happier, mate,' William said. ‘Thank you.'

‘Well, feel free to email me a testimonial for the website. Just first name, obviously.'

‘You know what? I'll do that,' William whispered. He started rattling cutlery around.

‘I'll let you get back to your kippers,' Sam said. ‘Enjoy your morning. Cheers!' He hung up and gave me a victory salute.

I didn't return it. ‘Bowes, not again!'

Sam looked blankly at me. ‘What?'

‘Kippers! He didn't tell you he was doing kippers, you twat!'

Sam was crestfallen. ‘I'm not very good at this, am I?' he muttered.

Why, on top of all of my many other faults, was I horrible too? WHY?

‘Don't be silly,' I said, chastened. ‘You're amazing at it. Better than me, even,' I added. I meant it as well.

‘Nonsense.' Sam suddenly put his coffee down and, without warning, marched over and pulled me into a hug. I sat like a lump of wood, a bit stunned. Sam and I didn't hug much. ‘Thank you,' he said.

I was confused. ‘For what?'

He pulled away. ‘For getting my arse into gear. I know you were pretending to be Shelley at the time but whatever. Thanks to your emails I've … um, come out of a coma.' He moved back to his seat, looking embarrassed.

I blushed. I loved the idea of having had this effect on someone's life. Particularly Sam's, which had always seemed so full of potential and yet so wasted.

The ensuing silence was broken by the doorbell. Sam jumped up. ‘Aha! I invited Ness and Hailey round for brunch,' he explained, buzzing them in. ‘You've been so damned busy since you went back to Salutech I thought you could do with some bruvvahood.'

I felt a big swell of gratitude. Sam was right. Throwing myself into work had definitely made me feel sane and in control again (Margot and her blackmail excepted) but there had been a notable deficit in normal human company. Sam was so very thoughtful these days. If only we –

I cut myself short. If only we nothing.

Hailey had brought about ten thousand sausages and was looking rather unlike herself in a floaty floral dress. Given that she had been wearing tight-fitting slutty ensembles since long before I met her, I wondered if this meant Matty had tried his hand at buying her clothes. ‘These are the best sausages you will ever eat,' she announced. ‘I had six yesterday. Don't judge me until you've tried them,' she added. Ness, who was the sort of annoying person who probably only ate half a sausage a year, laughed nervously. She had brought fruit.

Hailey swept Sam to one side and took over the kitchen. ‘Bowes, this is not your place,' she informed him. She rolled a good fifteen or so sausages into the grill pan and got a gigantic loaf of bread out of her bag. She started slicing it and spreading it thickly with butter, barking commands to Ness, who was apparently her sous-chef. Watching her, I couldn't help but notice how ironic it was
that
I
was the one with the reputation for being a hard-nosed businesswoman yet I had only a scrap of her self-confidence. I had had to fire just two people in the course of my career and both times had cried in the toilet afterwards; Hailey despatched naughty chefs and skiving waiters as calmly as Sam flicked off bogies.

As Hailey bossed Ness around, my thoughts drifted back to Salutech and I began to wonder if this was the way Margot would start treating me in the office. Margot was as bullish as Hailey but with none of the wit, charm or empathy that made Hailey such a likeable girl to be around. I shuddered. That seahorse had wanted to wipe the floor with me from the moment she'd arrived in our office. I'd long since stopped trying to work out why. But wipe the floor with me she could now, unless I came up with something really clever and brilliant in the next forty-eight hours. It was a grim prospect.

‘Are you portioning for dwarfs?' Hailey asked Ness, who was chopping fruit into bowls.

Ness giggled. ‘Sorry. I'm used to Sarah. She eats almost nothing,' she said. It was true: Sarah was even tinier than Ness. (Granny Helen had named them ‘the lesbian pixies of Edinburgh' the first time Sarah had been introduced to her. Fortunately Sarah had found this funny.)

Hailey snorted, tipped two of Ness's fruit salads into one bowl and presented it to Ness. ‘This is a real portion,' she announced. ‘Unlike you, Ness, I have a hale and hearty man to feed. Please take note.'

The dynamics in Hailey's household must be hilarious. I could only imagine how meal preparation would look: Hailey throwing gigantic meals together with noise and
smut while Matty opened tins with a laser-beam sword. ‘How are things with Matty?' I asked her.

Hailey didn't turn round. ‘Really good,' she said slowly. ‘Really, really good. I actually think …' She trailed off.

‘What?' Ness asked.

‘I think we could be heading for dud duh-duh-duhhhh, duh duh duh-duh.' I nearly passed out.

Sam, who was less talented at the art of diplomacy than the rest of us, gaped. ‘YOU?' he gasped. ‘
Married?
'

Hailey shot him a finger. ‘No one could be less suited to marriage than you, Bowes,' she informed him. ‘Imagine what it was like for us when you pulled that one out of the bag!'

A fleeting moment of pain shot across Sam's face and I felt suddenly protective. ‘Leave him alone, Tits,' I said to her.

Sam waved me away. ‘Ack, she's right,' he insisted. ‘But seriously, Hailey. Engaged soon? Have you been talking about it together?'

Hailey turned away, smiling enigmatically, and as she did so her floaty dress caught on the side of her belly, which seemed to be rather rounder than normal.

Oh, my God
, I thought.
She's pregnant!
I clutched the side of my chair for support. Sam getting engaged – admittedly not for long – and now Hailey getting PREGNANT? I couldn't take much more of this! Sam, Hailey and I had all been single for ever!

Sam was interrogating Hailey about her possible engagement (Matty had been spied in a jeweller's in Stockbridge apparently) and I tried to reconcile myself to the idea of her having a baby. It seemed too fantastical and mad for
me to get excited.
Hailey a mother?
How had we got so old? Would the same thing happen to me soon?

My thoughts turned quickly to John. The range of feelings attached to our ‘relationship' – if I could call it a relationship yet – was bewildering. Above everything else, of course, I was ecstatic to be here after all these years. Kissing him was a knee-trembling affair and his naughty messages left me dizzy and girlish; it was almost impossible to keep him at arm's length at work. I wanted to beat my chest and screech that he was
mine
! But it was still mortifying that – even though Susan had left
him
– I was basically shagging a man who'd been single for twenty seconds.

But there was no such thing as a perfect relationship, I reminded myself. I slid my phone out of my dressing-gown pocket and re-read the message he'd sent me this morning:
She's moving her stuff out now and soon I will be entirely yours, Charlotte Lambert. Please remove clothes in preparation. X