From The Moment I Saw Him .... (22 page)

Three miserable weeks dragged by, and then the baby
came.  The Fates, who had been so unkind to me, allowed me a small respite, and
to my joy, I had a little boy, dark haired, dark eyed, exactly like his
father.  It was too early to know whether he had inherited Nick’s gorgeous
smile.

The baby - Nicholas, never Nick - helped lift the
edge of our grief, and I began to feel I might have something to live for after
all.

At first, I acceded to my parents’ entreaties, and
went back to Beresford for a while.  This meant that the DeLisles could see the
baby as much as they wished.  Nick’s mother hung over him with tears, and they
wanted us to live with them permanently, but I did not feel this was possible
for me.

I got a little stronger each day.  My whole world
was now centred on my son and I began to make tentative plans for the coming
months.  Because Nick and I had not been married, I had nothing in the way of
financial assistance from his old employers, and very little from the State.  I
knew I would have to go back to work.

When Nicholas was about three months old, I
petitioned to return to Wapping.  I missed my flat, and I missed my friends. 
My parents were anxious, but once I had taken up residence at the flat again, I
took comfort from the company of those who loved me.  Jo was a frequent
visitor, Robin and Sarah came most weekends, and other agency friends, even
little Euan from my Marsham and Hunter days, helped to ensure I did not have
too many lonely hours.  Peter Leigh came to see us too.  I enjoyed his company
because he was one of the few I could talk to about the early days with Nick. 
He was a kind and considerate friend to me.

I still passed terrible, grief stricken hours. 
Sometimes, when I had put the baby down after a night feed, I would drift into
the spare bedroom where Nick’s clothes inhabited the wardrobe, and bury my face
in them, aching for his familiar smell, and I would cry until I thought my heart
would break.  I could not bear to think that this time, he could never return
to me. 

Nicholas and I went for long walks on the riverside
pathways, sometimes alone, sometimes in company.  He was a cheerful baby,
despite his sad mother, and his bright face and bonny looks attracted a lot of
attention.

 I did not lack advice from well-meaning friends
about my future.  Some counselled me to return home to Beresford, where there
was support from both sets of grandparents, but I was afraid I would be stifled
in the small town atmosphere, and haunted by my memories of Nick in our
younger, carefree days.  Others advised me to return to work straight away, in
order to protect my career.  But I could not bear to leave Nicholas before I
had to.  As my maternity leave drew to a close, I reluctantly advertised for a
nanny, and here again the Fates were kind, when I found Pauline, a fortyish,
level headed lady who lived just down the road from me.  She had brought up her
children, was divorced, and was looking for a baby on whom to lavish her
affection.  I think she fell in love with Nicholas as soon as she saw him, and
I felt confident I could entrust my precious baby to her care.

It was with mixed feelings that I returned to work
at Mackerras Mackay.

When I had taken maternity leave, I had been
wonderfully happy.  I had a fiancé whom I adored, was shortly to be married,
and could not wait for the arrival of our child.  Things were very different
for me now.

Everyone was sweet and understanding to me in those
first few days when I struggled to get back into agency life, trying to pick up
the threads again after such a long absence.  Well - not quite everyone,
perhaps.

 Ian had returned from America some months
previously, swapping places with Rob Mackerras, who wanted to consolidate the
businesses which Ian had set up abroad.  He was, in effect, in charge of the
London agency, and wielded considerable power over our working lives.

I knew he had been married for two years, and had a
little boy himself, and I hoped that we could put the unfortunate circumstances
of our last meeting behind us, and become colleagues once again.  Although I
had not really forgiven him for that blow to the face, I fully accepted that I
was to blame for his anger at the time.

During the afternoon of my first day back, I was
summoned to his office.

I was curious to see him.  He had not changed much. 
His hair was attractively flecked with a few grey strands, and he was handsome
and immaculate as ever in a striped shirt and navy suit.

He frowned across his desk at me, unsmiling, severe.

“Eithne - I was sorry to hear of your loss.”

He didn’t sound it. 

“Thank you,” I replied quietly, also solemn faced. 
“I hope your wife and son are well?”

He looked at me as if to imply it was no concern of
mine.

“I need you to settle in quickly now you’re back,”
he said.  “Things are difficult at present, and we can’t afford to carry
passengers.  I’ll be asking Robin to keep close tabs on you until we’re happy
you are coping.”

“I don’t anticipate any problems.”

His gaze swept over me, searching perhaps for signs
of change or weakness.  He said

“It must be difficult to be an unmarried mother
bringing up an illegitimate child.”

There was a deliberate, underlying note of cruelty
in the way he said it.  I looked away.  It was impossible now to believe that I
had once lain in this man’s arms and received his assurances of love.  Perhaps
he noticed the tiny shudder which ran through me, because he said very curtly,
as if I were the most junior underling,

“You can go now.”

I left without another word.  If he wanted to
maintain a cold distance, then he could have it.

The first few weeks were hard.  I missed Nicholas
dreadfully, because he was usually asleep when I returned from work, and
weekends were devoted to spending every hour with him.  My grief remained
intense.  I carried it in my shattered heart, and I don’t know whether anyone
realised how much pain I suffered.

To my surprise, one or two people asked me out in a
dating kind of way, but I wasn’t ready for anything like that, and wondered
ruefully whether I ever would be.  It was impossible now to contemplate anyone
replacing Nick in my heart.

 Outside work, I found myself relying on the support
of Nick’s old friend Peter.  He had been very good to us in a number of small
ways, and I knew I could go to him for advice and practical help.  He took me
out for dinner several times when he was in London, and it was a tonic for me
to get out of the flat and try to be more outgoing.

 I was reminded of the time we had met in the pub
garden, all those years ago, and asked him if he remembered the occasion.

“It seems like a whole other existence away,” I
added.  “It’s funny - I thought that my life was over when Nick dumped me then,
little did I know what real grief was.  I sometimes wonder what else the Fates
have in store for me, they certainly seem to enjoy putting me on the rack.  It
makes me unbelievably sad that, just when I thought we were bound to each
other, something so totally unexpected would part us for ever.”

Peter looked at me with concerned eyes.  I could
tell he was trying hard to be positive for me.

“I suppose it’s natural you should think that way,”
he said.  “Although, you’re a young woman, Eithne, you have plenty of time to
come when, with luck, you’ll be happy again.  Not with Nick, unfortunately. 
But you had some wonderful years together.  Lots of people go through life
without experiencing the kind of happiness you had.  You should be grateful for
that.”

“I am.  It just makes it very hard afterwards, when
you have to do without it.”

We sat in silence for a while, then I exerted
myself, and asked after his plans.  To his relief, his divorce from Silvia had
come through, and he was now concentrating on the merging of two companies.  His
father was beginning to step back from the daily running of the company, and
Peter had assumed managerial control. 

I liked hearing him talk about his work.  His face
would light up as he described the business to me, and sometimes I found it
hard to believe that this mature and confident person was the gangly boy who
had stepped on my toes at the school dance.

“How are things at Mackerras Mackay?” he asked, as
we waited for the bill - he always insisted on paying.

“Oh - it’s not been easy going back, I hope things
are going to get better,” I replied.  I debated whether or not to tell him
about it, but decided not to burden him with more of my problems.  In fact, I
was having a very unpleasant time.

I had been back at work for about a month, when a
dreadful thing happened.  Robin was knocked off his bicycle by a lorry as he
cycled to work, and ended up in hospital with severe injuries to his back and
legs.  They were not life threatening, but he would be hospitalised for some
months, requiring several operations to correct the damage.

That meant I was effectively left in charge of his
clients, with the help of two relatively new young account executives.  It was
not great timing, considering I had only recently returned to the agency.

Ian informed me coldly that it would be necessary
for him to supervise our work very closely, as he was unsure of my ability to
handle the extra responsibility.

“I hope you two will help Eithne as much as you can,
she’s going to need it,” he said to Will and Guy, the account execs.  “And if
you can see problems coming, make sure you get me involved at once.”

The way he said all this made it sound as though I
was out of my depth, and I think that Will and Guy were embarrassed for me.

Puzzling things started to happen.  I would go to a
meeting only to find the time or location had changed, so it looked as though I
was getting muddled.  Memos went missing, creative teams complained about
contrary instructions which impeded their work. 

I began to be afraid of Ian.  It seemed to me that
he was conducting a stealthy campaign to undermine me, and I could do very
little about it.

Robin, who could and would have protected me, was
stuck in hospital.  Rob Mackerras was in the New York office, and in any case,
he had always taken Ian’s side during the fallout from the broken engagement. 

I put out a few feelers for new jobs, but the advertising
business was in one of its periodic slowdowns, and firms were not hiring.

One afternoon, Ian summoned me to his office and
began to complain about some tiny issue on the John Warrender account, which he
claimed was jeopardising the budget for the next campaign.  I argued back, he
dismissed all my attempts at rational discussion.  In the end, frustrated, I
said to him

“What do you want, Ian?  Are you still so mad at me
that you need to challenge everything I do?  If you think I’m incompetent, why
don’t you fire me?”

Part of me hoped he would.  I was very unhappy about
the constant sniping and unpleasantness.

He narrowed icy, grey eyes, and walked round his
desk to where I was sitting.  His height always made him appear a formidable
adversary, and I caught my breath, feeling threatened for a moment.  He snapped

“I seem to remember making some absurd promise to
you that you would not be forced to leave if things soured between us.  Unlike
some people, I stick to my word.  However, you may find that you need to
reconsider your position here if these problems keep cropping up.”

I stood up to face him, determined not to be
bullied.  I knew Ian well enough to understand that any sign of weakness would
be exploited.

“I’m sorry about what happened, Ian, but that’s in a
past life.  Can’t we move on from that, and at least be civil to one another?  
We should be working together to make sure everything runs smoothly until Robin
gets back.”

“Don’t tell me how to run the business, Eithne,” he
said coldly.  “Just concentrate on your own accounts, there are people coming
up behind you who’d love a chance to show what they are capable of.  You might
want to remember that.”

I wondered whom he had in mind.  Perhaps it was Guy,
one of the account team working for me.  He seemed like a younger version of
Ian, and I did not trust him.  Always sympathetic and complaisant to my face, I
had detected him in one or two small deceits, and was now very much on my
guard.

 Will, however, was a sweetie, and I found him a
loyal ally in the battle to stay on top of things.

One day, Will and I went for lunch in the pub.  I
made some reference to the latest irritant which had come my way from Ian’s
direction.

“I suppose it’s difficult for him because he fancies
you,” Will said innocently, over the pie and chips.

“What?”

“Well - he’s always staring at you, I’ve noticed
that he looks at you all the time.  Didn’t you know he had a thing for you?”

“Heaven forbid!”

I thought for a moment, and told Will quickly and
confidentially of our past history.  He had no idea we had once been engaged.

“I don’t think it’s a case of fancying, more like
loathing,” I explained, but Will remained unconvinced.  The idea made me
uneasy, and I was even less comfortable when I had to deal with Ian in person.

John Warrender came in for a review meeting.  He had
been ill, this was the first time I had seen him since my return, and it was
like encountering a dear old friend.  He insisted on hearing all about baby
Nicholas, and Ian was forced to sit by while John and I indulged in a good
catch up. 

“I hope you’re looking after her.  She’s had a very
difficult time, poor girl,” John said to Ian, and he nodded and smiled, as if
my welfare was a prime concern.  

Ian was taking John to lunch after the meeting, but
John insisted I came too.  I exerted myself to be cheerful and charming - I
thought it would be a good opportunity for Ian to realise that I was important
to certain clients.  He was rather silent during the meal, but John and I
chattered away with gusto.  It felt like the happier days when we had first
worked together, and I enjoyed my food, and allowed myself a glass or two of
wine.

John had to leave early.  He gave me a kiss, and
asked me to visit them in Guildford before too long.  I was about to ask for
the bill, when Ian stopped me.

“I’d like another coffee,” he said, signalling to
the waiter.

I subsided into my seat.  Now John had left, the
atmosphere grew cool, and I wondered how I would be made to pay for gate-crashing
the occasion.

Ian sat across the table, and stared at me with an
unwavering gaze.  The wine had given me courage, and I stared right back.  For a
minute, neither of us blinked, neither of us spoke.

Then he said,

“Do you ever think that if you’d married me, your
precious Nick would still be alive?”

I felt as if a dagger pierced my heart.

I took a deep breath.

“No.  What would be the point?  Anyway, it’s
entirely possible his working life would have followed the same path.  He could
have been on that trip whether or not he was with me.”

I was sad.  I did wish we could put the past behind
us.  After all, Ian ought to have a whole new emotional focus in his wife and
son. 

 After a pause, Ian remarked,

“By the way, I shouldn’t waste too much time
charming the pants off John Warrender in future.  His son is about to take over
the business, and he’s a very different prospect, as you’ll find out.”

“I’m sorry about that.  I’ve always liked John, and
I can’t think he’s ready to step down just yet.”

Why was he taking such a long time with his coffee? 
I glanced at my watch.  Ian leaned across the table.  He said conversationally,

“Do you still make those soft kitten noises when you
have sex?”

I jumped, I felt my face flaming.

“Not appropriate, Ian.”

I gestured to the waiter to bring the bill, it was
time to stop this nonsense.  Ian laughed, he reached out to grip my wrist.

“You may find you need to be a little more
accommodating
in future, Eithne,” he murmured.  I glared at him.  I wasn’t sure what he
meant, but I didn’t like the underlying innuendo.

“That’s not going to happen,” I retorted.

He released my wrist, scowling.  I paid the bill, we
left the restaurant in silence, and, once outside, I muttered “I’m going to
walk back”.

I could feel his eyes boring into me as I strode
away.  I could not have tolerated his company in a cab.

During the walk, I resolved that now, I had to share
my concerns with a friend.  I wondered whether I could speak to Robin in
hospital, then remembered I would be seeing Peter Leigh at the weekend. 
However, when I returned to my desk, there was a message from him cancelling
our arrangements.  I picked up the phone and called his office, but his
secretary told me he was unavailable.

When I got home, I hugged my baby to me - but
Nicholas was crawling now, and very squirmy, it was difficult to keep hold of
him for long.  I felt terribly alone.