Cruel Legacy (34 page)

Hypersensitively she knew that the small knot of men gathered together round the coffee machine outside her office were talking about her. She could feel her ears burning with the injustice. It had not been fair of Ryan to call into question her commitment to her career, and surely he could have given her a little more time to prepare this report?

Luckily she liked to work with a relatively up-to-date progress chart... determinedly she switched on her computer.

Two o'clock, Ryan had said.

'Oh, nice shot...'

Mark smiled an acknowledgement of his partner's praise as they both watched the ball he had just hit rolling smoothly down the fairway.

'Golf?' Deborah had been teasingly derisive when he had first taken up the sport, scoffing that it was a game for middle-aged men.

Mark, though, enjoyed it; he liked its need for concentration and care; all the things about it which irritated and amused Deborah pleased and soothed him.

It helped, of course, that he also had a distinct flair for it; more than one golf club 'pro' had praised his skill and all his partners were envious of his handicap and expertise.

Golf, of course, was not one of Ryan's sports.

Initially this morning when a client had rung and suggested a game Mark had intended to refuse, but then he had looked at his empty desk and had changed his mind.

Now, out on the course, listening to his partner's envious praise, he realised how much better he felt, how good it was to be away from the office and his awareness of others' contempt for him, of their seemingly never-ending comments about Deborah's promotion.

'Never mind,' one of the more
louche
and unpleasant of the new crop of junior accountants had commented with a wink and a leer. 'If things get really bad on this side you can always use your influence and transfer over. Mind you, you'll probably have to pay for it...' His leer had deepened and Mark had found himself fighting to control not just his dislike and distaste for the younger man's attitude, but his anger with Deborah as well.

Yes, it felt good to get away from the office—and from Deb? He frowned as he waited for his partner to take his shot.

'Yes?' Ryan's secretary looked up over her glasses at Deborah bossily.

Ignoring the older woman's tone, Deborah smiled and handed her the folder she was carrying.

'It's the report Ryan wanted for the partners' meeting this afternoon.'

The secretary's frown deepened. 'Partners' meeting? What partners' meeting?' she demanded, making no attempt to take the file from Deborah. 'There is no partners' meeting.'

Deborah stared at her. 'But Ryan told me this morning that he needed this report for this afternoon.'

The woman stared back at her implacably. 'There is no meeting,' she repeated.

Back at her own desk, Deborah put down the file. She had worked her butt off this morning preparing that report, and working on it had not just caused her a high output of anxiety, it had also cost her time as well.

'Perhaps if I could see Ryan?' Deborah had suggested, holding on to her temper and ignoring the other woman's aggression. She had long held the view that Ryan deliberately used his secretary as a smokescreen and a barrier, and that her aggression towards other members of the firm amused and even pleased him.

'He's out,' she had told Deborah curtly. 'And he isn't due back in again until half-past four,' she'd added for good measure.

Now, as she stated grimly into space, Deborah wondered what kind of game Ryan was playing with her. Mentally she went over their earlier conversation. Yes, he had quite definitely said that he wanted the report today, and he had also quite definitely told her that there was to be a partners' meeting.

Since his secretary wasn't expecting him back until later in the day, he couldn't have organised the meeting without informing her.

Biting her lip, she put a call through to one of the other partners' secretaries, pretending that she couldn't read an entry she had scribbled in her diary.

'A partners' meeting?' the other woman repeated. 'No, I don't think so, not today.'

Thanking her, Deborah replaced the phone.

She had had to wait until gone six for Ryan to return, and had in fact been on the point of giving up when she had seen him coming in.

Fortunately his secretary had already left, so there was no one to stop her when she followed him into his office.

'Still here... ?' He smiled jovially at her, but the smile he gave her was knowing and sly.

'I had to work late to make up for the time I wasted this morning on your report,' Deborah told him evenly.

'What report,.. ? Oh, that—yes, I'm sorry; the meeting was cancelled. I tried to tell you before I went out, but you were... otherwise engaged...'

Otherwise engaged? She hadn't left her desk all morning, not even to go to the loo, and she knew instinctively that he was lying.

As he had been lying about the meeting in the first place.

She knew that there was no point in challenging him with it, and she suspected from the way he was watching her that he was enjoying the fact that he had put one over on her.

'Come on., .let's go and have a drink, and you can bring me up to date with what's happening.'

He gave her a winning smile, so plainly confident that she would agree, that he would be forgiven, so assured, so triumphant!

'Sorry, I can't,' she told him quietly.

'Boyfriend waiting at home with the dinner ready, is he?' Ryan taunted.

'I have to work this evening to make up the time I've lost preparing your report,' she told him evenly.

Ryan shrugged dismissively. 'That's life,' he told her carelessly. 'If you can't hack it...'

He was deliberately goading her, Deborah knew it, but why? Because he genuinely felt she
wasn't
up to the job? Because he regretted choosing her?

Tiredly she made her way down to Mark's office. They had travelled in together this morning; her old car had gone and her new one still hadn't arrived.

When she got there his office was empty. Frowning, she turned round as the door opened, but it wasn't Mark who came in; it was the temporary clerk.

'Oh...' She seemed surprised to find her there, Deborah recognised.

'I was just looking for Mark,' Deborah told her pleasantly.

'Mark?' The girl was frowning. 'Oh, but he left ages ago. He said he was meeting a client for a game of golf.'

'Golf... ?' Mark had said nothing to her, and what was he doing playing golf when only this morning on the way to work he had told her that he couldn't meet her for lunch?

'Haven't you heard?
We
aren't supposed to eat lunch any more; at least not unless we've found a new potential client to pay for it for us.'

'Oh, Mark, for heaven's sake stop being so childish,' she had told him irritably. 'If things are really that bad, instead of complaining about them all the time, why don't you
do
something about it... ?'

'Such as what?' he had demanded bitterly.

'Such as transfer over to us,' she had come back.

'No, thanks,' he had told her.

And now he was out playing golf, apparently having forgotten that he was supposed to be giving her a lift home.

She might just as well have gone with Ryan for that drink after all, Deborah reflected tiredly as she closed the file she had been studying and glanced at her watch. She had taken a cab home from the office, expecting to find Mark at the flat, but it was now nine o'clock and Mark still wasn't home, nor had he phoned.

She got up and went to look impatiently out of the window. What had happened today with Ryan had disturbed her. She badly needed to talk it over with Mark. She had thought she was handling her new responsibilities well; she had been pleased with the progress she had been making with the liquidation, confident of her ability... but now Ryan's changing attitude towards her was beginning to make her wonder if she had been over-confident.

It was gone ten o'clock when Mark came in.

'Why didn't you tell me you'd changed your plans?' Deborah demanded as he walked into their living-room.

'I tried to, but your line was engaged.'

'You could have left a message,' Deborah pointed out.

'I'm surprised you even missed me,' Mark told her, nodding towards the work on the table.

'Oh, Mark.' Deborah pushed her hand briefly into her hair. 'The last thing I need right now is more hassle.' Briefly she explained to him what had happened with Ryan, adding, 'I'm beginning to feel that Ryan regrets promoting me, that...'

'Since it hasn't got you into his bed, I imagine he does,' Mark agreed cynically.

Deborah stared at him.

Ryan's predilection for brief affairs was of course no secret and she was well aware that had she given him the slightest encouragement he would have had no hesitation in adding her to his list of conquests, but for Mark to imply...

She was too angry and upset to guard her words.

'What are you trying to say... that the only reason Ryan picked me for this job was to get laid?'

Mark shrugged irritably. 'Oh, come on, Deborah. You know how Ryan operates.'

The angry contempt in his voice made her face burn. 'That's not fair,' she told him fiercely. 'I
earned
that promotion; it had nothing to do with...'

'With what? The fact that he wants you? Oh, come off it!' When he saw her face Mark sighed. 'Look, I'm not saying that you
would
go to bed with him, but you must have known when he offered you the job what the score was...'

'He offered me the job on professional merit,' Deborah insisted, two hot coins of colour still burning her cheeks.

'Did he?' Mark questioned bitterly. She couldn't believe that Mark, Mark of all people, was doing this to her.

'You're not being fair,' she told him angrily now. 'You're deliberately trying to undermine me, Mark, to make me feel bad about taking the promotion because you...'

'Because I what?' Mark demanded. 'Because I'm such a bloody failure that I can't stand the thought of you doing well? Well, if you think I'm lying, Deborah, I suggest you spend a little more time in the general office now and again. Last week the odds were all in favour of Ryan winning out, but it seems that the weekend you spent away with me has lowered his chances.'

'They're just jealous,' Deborah protested. 'It's just a typical male way of putting women down, bullying and demeaning them. Everyone knows that I'm living with you; that Ryan doesn't interest me in that way.'

¹
Every one..
. does that include Ryan?'

'Of course it does! Mark, why are you doing this? I'm having a hard enough time trying to cope with the job and Ryan without...'

'You asked for my opinion,' Mark reminded her.

'Nice one,' Ryan complimented as they left the Inland Revenue offices. 'You handled that well.'

'Thanks.'

Initially Deborah had been very waxy when Ryan had asked her to accompany him to a meeting with the Revenue to discuss the tax affairs of one of his private clients. The tax authorities were questioning their client's interpretation of a certain grey area which had allowed him to take advantage of a tax loophole, and Deborah had been alarmed when Ryan had initially left her to answer the inspector's questions.

His behaviour towards her had been so erratic these last couple of weeks that she wasn't sure if she was being offered a chance to prove her competence or thrown to the wolves. Even now, as he smiled approvingly at her, she still wasn't.

She had tried to push her quarrel with Mark and the tilings he had said to the back of her mind, to reassure herself that she had simply caught Mark at a bad time, when he was feeling particularly low about his own work, and that he couldn't possibly have really meant what he had said about the reasons behind her promotion.

Neither of them had referred to their quarrel since, and on the surface Mark seemed to have reverted to his normal calm self.

On the surface?

On the way back to the office Ryan continued to discuss with her the interview with the Inland Revenue, and by the time she was back at her own desk Deborah was feeling more optimistic. Everyone had a bad spell now and again, she told herself firmly, and Mark was entitled to his just like everyone else. But still deep down inside her there was a small sore place that wouldn't quite heal over. Mark knew how much she loved him. And he knew how sensitive she was on the issue of being judged professionally only on merit. It had been a subject they had discussed at great length in the days when they were both still training.

It hurt her to have to acknowledge it, but deep down inside herself she suspected that Mark was jealous of her success.

She had discovered that increasingly recently she was having to monitor her conversations with him, to check to make sure she was not saying any thing which would draw attention to the progress of her career and the stagnation of his. And when she did talk about it she could almost feel him withdrawing from her.

She had tried to discuss it with him, but somehow the issue had become too sensitive for her to do so. And that hurt as well.