A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger (26 page)

I smiled. I still couldn't believe this was happening.

‘Chas?' Hailey barked. I looked up. She was putting the sausages between the slices of bread without even halving them.

‘Yes?'

‘What's this?'

Sam slunk over to the fridge to get his ketchup, looking like a guilty dog.

‘Bowes tells us you went on a date with John,' Hailey said, her eyes narrowing. ‘This true?'

I braced myself. Already I could feel her energy change. I didn't want another lecture: I felt shitty enough. ‘Yes,' I said. It just popped out; I couldn't help myself. A big,
warm guilty grin stretched across my face. ‘And, before you give me a hard time, I'm not just being a slag. He's left his wife and he wants to be with me. Permanently.'

Three amazed faces stared across the mound of sausage sandwiches at me. ‘Seriously?' Ness asked. She looked alarmed.

‘Yes, seriously,' I said, slightly hurt. For the last seven years my friends had actively encouraged flirtation with John.
They'd better not change their tune now
, I thought. This was my time. My man. I'd waited half a lifetime and finally he'd arrived in my lap. I wasn't taking any shit.

Hailey opened her mouth, probably to trumpet some righteous stuff about it being far too soon, but Ness broke in: ‘Whoopeee!' she shouted, running over and jumping on me. ‘At last! At long last!'

Sam looked amazed for a few more seconds but then scampered over and made it a three-way hug. ‘That's fucking magic, Chas!' he said. ‘You waited long enough, brother.' He pinched me on the cheek as if he were in some Cockney drama. Hailey had her hands on her hips.

‘Stop it,' I said to her. ‘He's felt the same way as me for seven years. He should never have married Susan in the first place and he knows that. If you'd heard what he said, you'd be pleased for me,' I added.

Hailey seemed unconvinced. ‘Well, if you're sure,' she said.

I nodded. ‘Very.'

Something must have cleared in Hailey's head because she picked up a sausage sandwich and toasted me with it. More modestly than Ness and Sam, but it was definitely a vote of confidence. ‘Well, cheers, Chas. To you and John.
Wowzers! Now, tell me. How are things in the bedroom department? Oh, my God, does he make you scream?' Ness blanched and Sam fled to the bathroom. I started laughing and began to fill her in. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, I was feeling a bit perky.
Maybe there will be a way around all this mess
, I thought hopefully. After all, I wasn't a bad person. I was just doing my best in what had turned out to be a fairly imperfect life.

Morning turned into afternoon and the sky cleared as we sat around my living room, eating and chatting. Ness had had us in stitches with tales of a mad playwright she was developing a script with: he had turned up at the theatre dressed as a woman in the hope that Ness would ‘renounce her lesbian ways' and love him. She wasn't even sure that it had been a joke: he had now written an opera and four poems dedicated to her. Sam, meanwhile, had been showing off our sparkly new website and was now wetting himself over the testimonials William and Shelley had written. Shelley had produced a hilarious polemic and William had come up with an uncharacteristically hyperbolic review of Sam's emailing skills. ‘Those two!' He chortled. ‘Bet they were sitting side by side writing these on their BlackBerrys without the faintest idea!'

‘Should we put both recommendations up?' I asked him. ‘It would be such a shame if they saw each other's names up there and realized what had happened.'

‘Shame? It'd be fucking hilarious, Chas!' He giggled. ‘And William and Shelley aren't exactly unusual names.'

We eventually uploaded both comments, agreeing that if they were serious about each other they'd have to come
clean about their ghost-writers eventually. We toasted tea mugs happily. ‘To our bloody BRILLIANT little business, Chas!' Sam beamed. He was flushed and excitable.

‘
Your
business,' I prompted, not without sadness.

Hailey, meanwhile, was emerging from the bathroom with a very red face. ‘Phone sex?' Sam asked her. She went even redder.

Sam looked amused. ‘Was it violent?'

‘Eh?'

‘Well, you don't look post-orgasm,' he said.

Hailey batted him off. ‘Mind your own, Bowes.'

An expression of discomfort settled on her face and I knew she needed help.

‘So. My job is fucked,' I announced loudly. All heads turned to me and I felt Hailey's gratitude.

As I told Hailey and Ness about my Salutech woes, I felt Hailey relax – although not fully. I hoped everything was OK with this baby. Assuming there was one. I made a mental note to schedule in a night for just the two of us as soon as possible.

Everyone agreed that I would somehow find a way to triumph over Margot. ‘You hold that place together,' Ness said earnestly. ‘Without you, Salutech would implode and all the scientists would atomize.'

‘That's exactly the sort of thing Dad would say, Vanessa Lambert!'

Ness looked pensive. ‘Dad's a bit nuts at the moment, Charley. I called yesterday to find out how Granny Helen was doing, and you know what he said? “She's fine, Nessie. Nothing that a good few Scotches and a nice pipe won't sort out.” I was like, “Dad, you're a
doctor
!” '

Sam chuckled. ‘Your dad really is something else,' he remarked.

I realized that, irrespective of my fears about work, I felt happy. I loved the three people in this room. Whatever was going on elsewhere in my life, I had companionship, laughter and some nice tea today.

My phone began to ring. ‘Oh, speak of the devil,' Sam said, handing me my phone. ‘Dr Lambert on the line.'

‘Daddy!'

There was a silence.

‘Dad?'

And then I heard Dad's voice, quiet and uncertain, telling me that Granny Helen had died.

The afternoon turned strange and sad. Autumn sun shifted across the floor as the afternoon progressed and, out of a primal need for comfort and safety, I lit a fire, around which we sat in blankets. Mum had taken over the call eventually, explaining that she and Dad were still at the hospital and that they would prefer it if we came to see them tomorrow.

Ness sat and cried quietly for two hours. Hailey tried to lighten the atmosphere with a succession of wonderful Granny Helen impressions and, when they stopped working, she cooked more sausages. Sam, still not very comfortable with emotions belonging to anyone who wasn't a performing actor, gave me a long, awkward hug before scampering off to the bathroom for ‘a long evening soak' even though it was only four o'clock.

I sat mostly in silence, listening to everyone around me. I felt only shock and disbelief; the sadness had not yet
reached me. It was impossible that Granny Helen was no longer here. She was the head of our family. The leader of the Lamberts. Leaders didn't just disappear.

Eventually, Ness drifted off to find Sarah, and Hailey had to go home to cook for Matty, who was having to work weekends in the run-up to December when his gardens were to become a Christmas Wonderland.

And then it was just me and Sam. We sat in companionable silence, watching
Finding Nemo
and then
Bridget Jones
, Sam getting up every now and then to put more wood on the fire and to make tea. Twice he received calls from female voices but twice he cut them short and explained that he was with a friend who needed company. Twice I squeezed his hand, grateful to him for not leaving me on my own. He cooked risotto at some point in the evening, and I smiled as I watched the intense concentration in his face as he chopped mushrooms. He was still a child, really, but he was trying. He was changing. He was committed to being better.

At some point during the third film in our DVD marathon Sam drifted off to sleep, curling down sideways into a foetal position on the sofa. And within minutes I was alone again, battling all of the thoughts and fears that a day of company had kept at bay. Shock about Granny Helen, serious worry for Dad and a lingering sense of dread over what this would mean for our family. Fear about Margot combined with spiralling panic about how much work I had to do over the coming weeks. If I had a job at all. Thoughts of John, of how our relationship would work (and why he hadn't yet called me), thoughts of Hailey maybe having a baby and worry for Ness who had been quite inconsolable about Granny Helen.
Tick tick tick.
My head whirred, exhausting me, and, sick of all the noise, I tried to put a lid on it all.

But the more I tried to squash everything down, the more anxious and upset I felt. What had I actually
done
today? Nothing! Sitting around eating sausages and drinking tea was all very nice but I had achieved bugger-all, which, considering I was at war with Margot, was inexcusable. If I was to have any defence against her I had to be more on top of work than ever before. I began to feel angry and ashamed. Who the hell did I think I was, moaning to my friends about Margot trying to steal my job when I was doing nothing to protect it? We had just launched our biggest ever drug! Why had I not spent the day monitoring the press? Why had I not been calling my colleagues in Europe to find out how they were getting on? Why was I not collating figures and preparing reports?

Because you need a break
, a small voice in my head suggested. I batted it down. I could take a break once the campaign was running smoothly and Margot was under control. Careful not to disturb Sam, I reached over the side of the sofa for my satchel, pulled out my laptop and work files and got stuck in. I needed to fight for my job.

‘What the arsing hell are you doing?'

I jumped in the air. ‘Shit, sorry, Sam, did I wake you up? I'm just catching up with a bit of work.'

‘No,' Sam said, pulling himself up. He looked properly annoyed. ‘No,' he said, more kindly this time. He plumped a cushion and sat up next to me. ‘You've just lost your granny. Give yourself a break. For once.'

I winced. Somewhere deep inside I knew there was
some sense in this, but not as much sense as there was in me working. ‘This stuff needs doing before tomorrow,' I said obstinately.

‘Tomorrow's Sunday,' Sam said, swinging his legs out on to the floor. Gently but firmly he confiscated my computer and put it on the table. ‘And currently it's two fifty-four a.m. No one in the world cares enough about Simitol to need you right now. You've been bereaved, Charley.'

I stared at him as if he'd punched me in the face.
Bereaved.
Now I believed that Granny Helen had died. Out of nowhere I had a vision of her sitting on a chair outside her cottage when Ness and I were five years old, feeding us her home-made plum jam on slices of cheese. ‘You are the two bonniest girls this side of the Forth,' she whispered fiercely. ‘If anyone tells you otherwise, I'll take my stick to their backside.' I hadn't thought about that day in years, but now the memory was dizzyingly strong; a bittersweet taste of my past now seeded with loss. ‘Sam,' I said, tears welling. ‘Granny Helen's gone.'

‘I'm sorry,' he muttered. ‘She was fucking amazing.'

I gulped.

‘Will you stop working now?' he asked. ‘You need a good cry and then bed.'

A tear fell slowly down my nose. ‘I want to work,' I whispered.

Sam sat down slowly on the sofa next to me. I moved my thigh over to accommodate him as another tear squeezed itself out.

‘Work is not the answer,' he said uncomfortably. ‘To this or to anything.'

I picked at a hangnail on my thumb, hoping he'd stop. I didn't want to hear this now.

‘Look, Chas, you
told
me you hide in your work,' he said. I was alarmed. It had been an unspoken rule that we would not quote anything that either of us had said as William and Shelley. I got up and wobbled off towards my bedroom, Sam in hot pursuit. ‘You
told
me you couldn't let go,' he persisted. I looked at him as I got into bed. He didn't appear to be enjoying this much but it kept on coming. ‘Don't you want to do something about that?'

I knew how happy he had been lately and – just for a fleeting second – it occurred to me that maybe I
did
want to do something. Deep inside I knew that it wasn't healthy to have a job that ruled your life. I knew that it wasn't right to work manically when your grandmother had died. Sam was now working every day yet he had … freedom. And a lightness about him that I knew I didn't have.

But the window of possibility soon closed. My situation was the opposite of his. It was all very well for Sam to throw himself into First Date Aid and clean living and auditions and exercise because he fancied a change. But he had started with a baseline of boredom, laziness and low income. He had nothing to lose. I was starting with a baseline of money, achievement and responsibility. I had everything to lose.

So I shook my head. ‘My work is too important. I know you can't understand, Sam, but please don't give me a hard time about it. It's essential to me and that's just how it is.'

I pulled the duvet over my head and Sam left my room. I heard him sit down on the sofa and imagined him, chin
resting in his hands, trying to work out what to do with me. I hated that thought.
Hated
it.

I resolved to keep my work activities more private from now on. Sam knew too much about me, these days; he had too many opinions on my lifestyle. I didn't like it.

‘Morning, Charley,' Graham from Security shouted as I passed through the gates.

I hadn't been struck off the staff list yet, then.

‘Stay calm, stay calm,' I said, under my breath, as I parked. Being at home with my family yesterday had been devastatingly sad, and now I felt even more vulnerable to Margot's hate campaign than I had on Friday. It hadn't helped that John hadn't called me all weekend. According to him, Susan had been moving out on Saturday. So why no call on Sunday? Had she changed her mind? Had
he
?

As I walked into the lift I felt panic and dread ratchet themselves up to the next level. I had no battle plan, no defence, nothing. There was nothing I could do to stop Margot revealing my secret and there was nothing I could do if John had decided that we weren't meant to be. The feeling of powerlessness was quite devastating.

‘Morning,' Margot said, marching into my office a few minutes later. She closed the door behind her. ‘So, what are your thoughts about the week ahead?'

I studied her nervously. ‘What do you mean, what are my thoughts?'

‘I'm referring back to our little chat, Charley. But if you need your memory refreshing, here's a recap: I want you out of the way. I want you to stop taking a shit on me so I can show this company what I can do.'

‘I have never “taken a shit” on you,' I replied slowly. ‘In fact, the only time I've been anything other than supportive of you was when you refused to give my job back.'

‘Whatever,' Margot said, looking bored. ‘You know what's going to happen if you don't co-operate. I'll call Bradley Chambers and he'll sack you. Sound good?'

I imagined Chambers's call to me after he'd learned of my misdeeds: ‘You mean, Sharon, that you've been given the opportunity to control the public face of the UK's largest biotech pharma and you choose to write online love letters instead? I'm sorry, Sharon, I just don't believe it! You're our brightest star!'

But, either way, you're out of the door
, would come next.

‘What's on your agenda?' I asked Margot, unable to disguise my fear.

She sat down. ‘Well, I'd like to take over communicating with the other European offices,' she said. ‘I want to be their main liaison.'

I shrugged in as noncommittal a fashion as I could muster. ‘Anything else?'

‘The doctors' conference next week. I want to do it.'

I breathed out, relieved. This was something that an inexperienced person simply could not run. John would never agree to it.

Margot continued to list jobs that she would never be allowed to do. But she must have read my thoughts because she broke off with a murderous look on her face. ‘If you're thinking John'll never let me do these things, Charley, you'd better think again. It's your job to find a way of getting me in on them.'

Fear returned.
She'll stop at nothing
.
If I don't come up with a
plan very bloody quickly I'll be on the dole.
And that prospect – which seemed more real and possible as each minute passed – made me feel quite desperate. Seriously, what would I do if I lost my job? How would it feel to have to stand in front of John and nod meekly when he told me he had no option but to let me go? And how would our relationship ever survive that? It wouldn't. It would be impossible to overcome. My lover, who'd sacked me. No way.

‘Right,' I said to Margot, trying to sound decisive and calm. I sounded neither. ‘Is that it?'

Margot smiled, sliding her pen into her mouth in a way that I found rather disgusting. ‘Actually, no,' she said. ‘I was thinking I might just take a free trial of the services on offer at First Date Aid.'

I went cold. ‘As I said to you, I don't work on First Date Aid any more. I set it up while I was off sick and now I've handed it over. You'd have to deal with Sam.'

‘Oh, but I want
you
, Charley.' She gave a tinkling little laugh, perhaps the most evil noise I'd ever heard. ‘Tell you what,' she added conspiratorially. ‘There's a man I liked the look of. I'll show you his profile and you can get going, eh?'

‘No,' I said obstinately. ‘You could use this to frame me. Forget it.'

Margot laughed again, louder this time. ‘Oh, Charley, I have enough evidence to frame you a thousand times over. I've got all those disgusting, pathetic messages between you and John, for starters. And in legal proceedings I think you'd struggle to prove that you are not the “Charlotte” whose name is on the website, eh?'

‘How did you get my personal messages?'

‘I gave Keith from IT a hand job,' she said conversationally. ‘Now, if you pull up
love.com
, I'll find the man in question for you. Shouldn't take long – he's online all the time, he –'

‘What? You gave someone a
hand job
for access to my account?'

Margot laughed the toxic laugh again. ‘I like sex, Charley,' she said. ‘And, what's more, I like it with as many different men as possible. Oh dear, what a pervert, eh? How will uptight Charley Lambert, who probably only gets naked once a year, take orders from someone who actually likes sex? Hey?'

I was absolutely astounded.

‘Let's have a look at this chap, then,' Margot said, leaning across me to open up
love.com
. ‘I can write messages to men on adult friend finder in my sleep,' she said, typing in her login details. ‘But it's the normals I struggle with, Charley. The boring twats on run-of-the-mill dating sites. People like you.'

I laughed hollowly. I was under the control of a psychopath.

But then Margot's latest object of desire loaded up on the screen and I stopped finding it funny.

Because there, smiling out at me, was Matty. ‘Online now!' his profile announced merrily. I felt the world close around me just a bit tighter.

‘He looks a bit enthusiastic for me,' she continued. ‘I prefer them with a little hint of darkness. But he's dirty. I can spot it a mile off.'

‘How?' I whispered incredulously.

‘Oh, I've slept with hundreds like him. This guy is the
sort that fucks strangers and then runs off to wifey for his lasagne.'

I felt even sicker. My beloved Hailey … who was possibly pregnant. Oh, God.

I needed more information. ‘Is he the one you were talking about when you said he's online all the time?'

‘Correct. He's always there.'

I wanted to cry.

‘Send him a few lines this morning, won't you?' Margot said lightly. ‘I'm free on Wednesday night.' And, with that, she swept out of my office.

I stared, trance-like, at my computer. I hadn't the faintest idea what to do. All I could think of was Hailey's ecstatic face when she'd told us she was moving in with Matty. Could Margot ruin my life
and
Hailey's?

Yes
, I thought. I put my head into my hands, wishing that I could somehow unplug myself and hibernate for a while.

My bag vibrated and I fished out my phone, grateful for any sort of a distraction from the present.

It was Shelley.

‘Hi, Shelley,' I mumbled.

‘Ah, hello,' she said. She was not roaring and I knew instantly that something was wrong. It turned out that since she had left William's house on Saturday morning she had not heard from him. ‘I don't quite know what to do,' she said uncomfortably. ‘I wondered if you had any tips.'

Her voice was loaded with embarrassment and I felt a great empathy. Poor Shelley, so desperate for reassurance that she was prepared to risk the humiliation of calling
me. I imagined her in her office, paralysed, unable to concentrate on anything beyond her mobile phone. And, once again, I realized that Shelley Cartwright and I were in the same boat: sitting at our desks, frozen with fear, waiting for something to happen.

‘Actually, Shelley, I'm in the same situation,' I said, surprising myself. ‘I'm still waiting for a man to call. He should have called me on Saturday night. But call he will, if he's the right man. I've just got to sit it out and not let my life grind to a halt in the meantime.'

I sat back, surprised by my wisdom. Maybe I
would
work as a dating coach if I got booted out of Salutech.

Shelley sounded taken aback. ‘Oh, sorry to hear it.' Her attempt at camaraderie was comically gruff. ‘I'm sure he'll call you.'

‘Likewise, Shelley,' I said gently. ‘William really liked you. If I know anything, I know that.'

I heard her breathe out nervously. ‘I hope so, Charlotte,' she said. ‘I hope so.'

And within seconds of ending the call, I got what I'd been waiting for all weekend:
Lambert. Office. Now. XXX

The relief was like a deluge. So heavy, in fact, that I began to feel slightly uncomfortable that John had so much power over me.
Oh, come on, it's normal to be in this place
, I told myself, thinking of Shelley.
We're all the same. Mental.

Before I went to see John I called Sam and asked him to find out why William hadn't called Shelley. For whatever reason, William and Shelley had begun to matter to me rather a lot. But as I swung round the corner towards John's office, I forgot all about them. All I wanted to know
at this point was that Susan had now left the country. I wanted talk of futures. Then at least I'd have something good on the boil.

‘Ah, Charley, good morning,' John said, in a business voice. The door was in the process of closing behind me and his PA Becky would be able to hear everything we said until it shut. Until the catch clicked behind me I couldn't even look at him.

‘She's gone,' he said quietly. ‘And divorce proceedings are well under way. I'm yours, Lambert. Yours to do with what you will.

‘It's true!' he continued, when I found myself dumb. ‘I've been thinking about you all weekend, Lambert. Barely been able to stop wanking,' he added, as if commenting on the weather.

I tried not to grin but it happened anyway. ‘Why didn't you call me, then?' I asked, immediately hating myself. I'd always been his warrior, the fearless Amazon of Salutech. I couldn't stand being needy.

John merely smiled wider. ‘Because, Lambert, Susan had several tonnes of stupid clothes and her move took longer than it should have done.'

‘Well, I'm sorry it … er, ended,' I said lamely. I was nothing of the sort.

‘Oh, shhh, Lambert,' John said. ‘Marrying her was the stupidest thing I've ever done. Schoolboy reasoning. Marry one woman to forget about another? Insane! But it all worked out as it should have done in the end.' He got up from his desk and guided me round to his sofa area, which wasn't visible from Becky's desk. I shivered at the feel of his hand on the small of my back. In spite of all the
darkness, I felt suddenly compelled to rip my suit off, yelling, ‘RUMP ME NOW!' I resisted this temptation.

John sat down and ran his hands through his hair. ‘It's a bit messy,' he acknowledged, ‘but she wants a quick divorce. Soon it'll be just you and me, Lambert, stomping around that bloody loch and having furious sex all the time. Sound good?'

I was enthralled by this idea. It felt like a fairy tale. A slightly dysfunctional one, but a fairy tale all the same. Charley Lambert was getting her handsome prince.

‘Could I possibly have a quick feel of your magnificent breasts?' John asked. His eyes were twinkling with mischief.

‘Can't you allow a girl even a few seconds of romance, John?'

John looked impish and naughty. ‘It's your fault, Lambert. You shouldn't be so bloody divine to look at and clever at your job.'

I beamed foolishly, in spite of my best efforts not to.

‘Could we quickly fuck in a cupboard?' he asked hopefully.

My warm glow diminished a little. ‘No!'

‘Toilets?'

‘No.'

‘Could I maybe just have a quick feel of your bottom?'

‘John!'

He looked comically guilty and then something far more sincere came over him. He leaned forward and gave me a long, lingering kiss. ‘Sorry,' he muttered. ‘Seven years' waiting turns a man to madness.'

I felt a bit safer and smiled my forgiveness.

‘Could I interest you in some egg on toast in the canteen?' he asked.

We spent our first thirty-five minutes as a couple eating hard scrambled eggs with cold toast in an empty canteen with a view of the A1. I told him about Granny Helen and how worried I was about Dad, and he told me how stupid he felt about having married the wrong woman.

I went back to my desk with a tiny bit more confidence. Maybe there was a solution to this mess with Margot. I just didn't know what it was yet.

Sam called mid-morning to tell me he had spoken to William, who was on the phone
right now
ordering Interflora's most extravagant bouquet for Shelley. ‘Someone told him you're meant to wait until Tuesday to call,' Sam said, exasperated. ‘Where the fuck do they get their ideas from? I think we should write a handbook, Chas.'