Between You and Me (25 page)

‘You can, Sal. It will be hard, but you can do it. Look, we’ll take pictures of the burn now, OK? And then you can just keep all the records here, so there will no chance of Charlie finding them. You can start the diary; we can make notes of rough dates when things happened. Go down to the surgery today and do the drop-in service to see the GP. He can document the burn in your records, give you some cream or whatever, and Charlie will never need to know because GP records are confidential. You can do this, Sal. I’m not going to let you carry on like this. I’m not going to let you be bullied any more.’ Laura folds her arms across her chest and stares at me. This is the reason why I needed to tell her, so she could support me and stop me from being too frightened of the consequences to carry on. I nod my assent, and Laura carefully unwraps the bandages from the burn. I hiss through my teeth as the gauze sticks slightly to the wound, and Laura apologises. She grabs her phone and takes pictures of the burn from all angles.

‘There.’ She sits back and shows me the phone. ‘All documented. Now I want you to get up to the doctor’s and get it looked at.’ The burn looks red and sore where the blisters have popped and the skin has come away. I agree to visit the doctor, but only once we have made a start on the diary. I get that feeling again – the one that says, now I have started the ball rolling, I need to keep up the momentum, as if I stop I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to start again.

‘Sal …’ Laura looks up from where she is scribbling approximate dates in an old notebook she has dug out. ‘How did I not know about all of this stuff? I’ve lived next door to you, been your friend for so many years and I
just didn’t know
.’

‘It’s not the kind of thing you go round telling people. I wasn’t going to knock on the door and tell you,
sorry, I’m not able to go to the park today because my other half has punched me in the kidneys and I’m pretty sure there’s damage because I’m pissing blood
, am I?’ Embarrassment makes me snap waspishly and immediately I feel horrid. Laura is only trying to help me and it’s natural she would be curious about it all. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m ashamed, I suppose. What sort of person lets their partner beat the crap out of them? Someone who’s weak and pathetic, that’s who. I don’t want everyone to think that about me. I’m ashamed and embarrassed to be that person – the one who can’t even stand up to their other half and say NO, enough is enough.’ Laura nods, sadly, tears glistening in her eyes. I’ve made her cry more today than she probably has in months.

‘No, Sal. You’re not weak and pathetic. You’re just someone who wanted to provide a stable, family home. Someone who put their child before themselves and then found themselves boxed into a corner. Someone who hoped,
wished
, that it would get better. And now, it’s time to put you first, Sal. Maggie is going to be upset because she doesn’t know the full story, but one day, when she’s older, you can tell her and she will understand.’ She pats my hand and I squeeze back.

‘Now …’ Laura is all business again. ‘What about money? Do you have any? You’re going to need something behind you to get you started.’

‘Charlie controls all the money. I just get an allowance every week for food and things for Maggie. I’ve got a little bit set aside that Charlie doesn’t know about.’ Although you have started to ask to see the receipts after I have been shopping, making me think maybe you are getting suspicious. The plan to leave must have been formulating in the back of my mind unconsciously for some time now, as I have been managing to save a little of the housekeeping money every week and put it to one side,
just in case
. I was telling myself that it would be spending money for any holidays we went on, but realistically I know it was for this eventuality.

‘That’s good.’ Laura is brisk, and it helps now that the tears are gone to look at things objectively. ‘What about when you do leave? Where will you go?’

I have already decided that when I am ready to leave, and not before, I will call my mum and my sisters and tell them everything. I know my parents will be furious with you, but there will be a bed at their house until Maggie and I can get sorted.

‘I’m just waiting to hear back from the job interview,’ I tell Laura. ‘I can go to Mum and Dad’s, and if I get the job I can start thinking about finding a place of our own. If I don’t, then I’ll just have to get a job doing anything else I can find. I just need to be able to support Maggie and stand on our own two feet.’

‘It sounds like you’ve already been thinking about this for a long time.’

I nod – I suppose I have, without even realising it. Our relationship is over, and I think it has been for a long time. I’ve tried my hardest, and I even thought I did still love you. I suppose I still do in a way – you gave me Maggie and nothing that happens between us can ever change that.

Later that afternoon, I visit the doctor, who advises me how to look after the burn, and makes notes on my medical record. When he asks how it occurred, I still can’t bring myself to tell him that it was you who did it, so I say it was an accident. It seems like, even when I have made the decision to leave, you can still control what I say to other people. I collect Maggie from Laura’s and, when leaving, lean forward to kiss Laura on the cheek.

‘Thank you. You don’t know how much this means.’ Laura blushes and twists her long, red hair around her fist.

‘Don’t be silly. It’s what friends do. I told you before, I’m always here.’

You call at around eight o’clock to tell me you have a client dinner and will be home very late, possibly not even home at all. I go to bed early and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in months.

Chapter Thirty-Four

CHARLIE

I am up early on Monday morning and decide to head straight into the office. Things with the Otex deal are picking up apace, and it won’t be long before Pavlenco seals the deal and gets what he wants, as usual. Since the delivery of the cheque to sad, sobbing Radu Popescu there has been no further word from him, which fills me with a huge sense of relief and I think it’s fair to say that that little problem has been resolved. At least, I hope it is. I still wake up every night in the grip of that same nightmare – the one where Radu pops up unexpectedly to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for, and I don’t think it’s going to stop until all the paperwork is signed, sealed and delivered.

When I get into the office, despite the early hour, I call Alex’s direct line – I want to firm up our plans for dinner tonight. We have finally managed to pin down tonight as an evening we are both free after many rearrangements and after such a shit weekend dealing with Sal’s appalling behaviour, I am looking forward to an evening out with someone who isn’t out to undermine me every five minutes. An evening with someone who makes no demands of me and is happy to just enjoy my company without causing upset.

‘Hello?’ The phone is answered on the first ring and I hear Alex’s husky tones, causing shivers to snake down my spine.

‘Alex! It’s me, Charlie. I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for dinner tonight – no work talk, though, please. I need to leave it behind for one evening.’ I give a little chuckle and relax back into my chair, Alex’s voice soothing away the tension of the weekend.

‘Of course – I’m looking forward to it. I know what you mean; the sooner this deal is done the better, and obviously even better if it’s me who’s the victor.’ I can hear the smile in Alex’s voice, and it takes me back to our uni days, when it feels like all we did was laugh, drink and enjoy ourselves. At the time we thought it was all so stressful. If only we had known what real, adult life was going to be like.

‘I’ve booked Gaucho, a table for two at eight o’clock.’

‘Sounds perfect; I’m looking forward to it. Don’t be late.’ Smiling, I hang up the phone, Alex knows that punctuality is my middle name. A huge argument would have been bound to erupt if I’d let Sal know who I was meeting tonight – Sal and Alex never got along, and it gives me a little shiver of delight to know that I have a secret to keep from Sal, even if it is only a dinner. After this weekend Sal hasn’t earned the right to know what I am doing and, as I said before, it’s all about priorities; the sooner Sal realises that the better. It’s OK for Sal to make demands on me, for me to work as hard as I do purely so that Sal can have the lifestyle Sal wants, but when I want the favour returned it gets thrown in my face. I can’t help it; I am still angry about the way Sal abandoned us for Anna at the weekend. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to ask about the baby and how he is, or how Anna is feeling. Although, to be perfectly honest, I’m not even really sure I care. If something does happen to the baby it’ll just be another excuse for Sal to put Anna first, ahead of me again.

The day passes quickly. Anita brings me lunch and I have a progress meeting with Mr Hunter, in which I hide my sweaty palms as I tell him I have everything under control and anticipate that the merger will be completed successfully within a couple of weeks. Unbidden, Radu Popescu’s face pops into my head and I squash it down, back into the recesses of my mind, swallowing hard. I won’t think about him now.

‘Excellent, Charlie. You’ve done extremely well. I expect Mr Pavlenco will only want to deal with you in the future.’ Mr Hunter stands to shake my hand.

‘Thank you, Mr Hunter – I’ll look forward to it.’ We shake and I head back to my office. I am ecstatic that Stan Hunter thinks I’ve done well, and his words can only mean one thing – that I will be made partner once this deal goes through. However, the thought of being the only one to deal with Lucian Pavlenco does make me feel nervous. I am the only one who knows the truth about him, and if anything did go wrong I would be at the top of his hit list – and I really do think he has an actual hit list. I pull myself together.
Come on, Charlie, you are the ONLY one who knows the truth so it’s in his interests to treat you like royalty! Popescu is gone, no one else will ever know, and Pavlenco is a powerful man. This could be the start of something HUGE, bigger than you ever anticipated.
I smile to myself – nothing can go wrong.

I arrive at the restaurant at a minute to eight o’clock, but Alex has beaten me to it and is already waiting at our table for me to arrive – an unusual occurrence, as the Alex I remember is perpetually late.

‘You made it.’ Alex stands and we kiss both cheeks. I stuff my laptop bag under the table, the maître d’ wanted to take it along with my jacket when I arrived, but as it contains everything I need relating to the Pavlenco deal, I don’t want to let it out of my sight. Alex raises a glass in my direction.

‘I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of champagne. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Mind? Of course not. Who doesn’t love a bottle of champagne on a Monday night?’ I reach for the bottle and top Alex’s glass up, filling my own with crisp, fragrant bubbles. We clink glasses and toast ourselves.

‘Here’s to making it as lawyers. Eventually.’ Alex laughs, and we clink again.

‘Work is not up for discussion, obviously, so how are things at home with Sal and … your daughter?’ Alex takes a sip of cold champagne and eyes me closely.

‘Maggie? Oh, fine. Maggie is just perfect – as perfect as a four-year-old can be, anyway. And Sal is … fine. Sal’s fine.’ I take a large gulp of my champagne, the bubbles making me cough a little, and am relieved when the waiter appears to take our order. I don’t want to talk about Sal, not tonight. And definitely not with Alex. We both order the scallops and watermelon starter followed by the beef sampler, and sit back to wait for the food to arrive. The first bottle of champagne disappears quickly, and Alex orders another.

‘So what about you?’ I ask. ‘What have you been doing since uni? Are you married, kids, what?’

‘No, Charlie.’ Alex gives a rueful smile, fiddling with the forks on the table. ‘It took me a long time to get over you, you know, after Sal swooped in and pinched you from under my nose.’ The subtle lighting casts a sheen on Alex’s honey-gold hair, creating the illusion of a halo. I give a short, nervous laugh.

‘Oh, Al, don’t be silly. It never would have worked between us – two massive egos under one roof? I don’t think so. And what about now? We wouldn’t both be working on this deal if we were still together; one of us would have had to step down.’ I pat Alex on the hand, the smooth, tanned skin warm under mine.

‘Speaking of which …’ Alex takes a bite of the scallop starter, which has finally arrived. The service is slow and we are already well into the second bottle of champagne. ‘What’s Pavlenco like? I’ve heard all sorts of stories about him; he just seemed to come from nowhere, with his millions and hordes of underlings ready to do his bidding.’

‘Nothing to tell.’ I eye Alex warily, not quite drunk enough to open up completely about anything regarding Pavlenco. ‘He’s a decent enough guy. If the communications company decide to go through with the merger with Otex I don’t think they’ll regret it.’

‘Really?’ Alex raises an eyebrow at me in that old familiar way, the way that used to make my stomach flip. It still makes my stomach flip and I fill my fork with scallop in an effort to disguise it. ‘They might be better off with my guys – let’s face it, Charlie, Pavlenco has a reputation as a bit of a shark. Do you honestly think he’ll make them a fair offer?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’ I knock back the rest of the wine in my glass, and signal to the waiter to bring another bottle. ‘Anyway, we are not supposed to be discussing it; we’re supposed to be having a good time.’

‘Is that so?’ Alex raises that eyebrow again and I get the distinct impression that Alex isn’t only here for the dinner, and that the evening is about to take a very different turn.

Ugh. Morning sunlight streams in through open curtains, blinding me and making me screw my eyes shut. A jackhammer is dancing on top of my head, making it completely impossible for me to lift it from the pillow. I twist my head round on the pillow, taking in the room. I am not at home.
Shit.
I squint at the clock on the bedside table, which tells me it’s eight o’clock.
I am not at home, and I’m late for work.
I muster up the courage to sit up, and in doing so realise from the travel kettle and tiny sachets of coffee on the dressing table in front of the bed that I’m in a hotel.