More Than You Know (51 page)

In the house, sitting by the open window of her bedroom, Sarah heard some wild, strange cries coming from the direction of the conservatory and hoped they hadn’t shut some poor creature inside it, and resolved to send them back to check when they came in. But they were a long time—wandering the grounds, she supposed—and by the time she did hear them on the stairs she was too sleepy to care.

So began, Eliza realised, looking back, one of the happiest periods in her life. She was still restless, still lonely—for the kind of company she craved, at least—still bored, but Matt’s saving Summercourt had made her see how much he loved her. He had done it primarily for her, and she knew it. And consequently knew that all his demands, all the personal sacrifices she had made, were actually worth it.

Matt was also very happy—when he thought about it. The least analytical of people, he was aware of only uncomfortable emotions: rage
(frequent), stress (more frequent still), envy (now rare). When he was feeling none of those things, it could be presumed he was happy. He had the things he had always wanted: money, status—and Eliza. His love for Eliza surprised him at times: born that day in Waterloo Station, it had never faded, never failed. From an unapproachable creature a world removed from him, she had moved towards him through the years, and was now almost unbelievably at the centre of his life.

It was not a comfortable relationship still: he found her frequently enraging. Eliza was disruptive, demanding, restless, and very critical. He had no opportunity of growing complacent so long as he was with her.

Sometimes when they quarrelled, and more seriously than usual, he would glance at least in the direction of life without her, and found himself faced by an abyss so vast, so terrifying, so ugly he would literally close his eyes and turn away.

She was what she was, with all her imperfections, and he could consider no other.

His honeymoon—for he had had one—with the rest of his immediate world was, however, coming to an end.

He called Louise into his office one morning and told her he had offered Barry Floyd Jimbo’s partnership in the firm—without consulting her, looking in her direction, or considering that he might offer it to her. She found it hard to believe the cruelty of it. The sheer, blind, callous, careless cruelty.

She listened in silence as he told her. Then, as she had never, ever done in all the years of provocation and injustice, she knew she was going to break down.

And she said that she wanted to be alone and shut the door, and put her head on her arms on the desk and cried and cried.

It was Jenny who had listened to the sobs, in an agony of sympathy, her tender heart wrung; Jenny who had asked Matt what was wrong and whether there was anything she could do, and was told to do what she liked; Jenny who put her arms round Louise and told her to hush and fetched her some water and then sat down beside her and drew her head onto her soft, comforting bosom, which might have been created for exactly such a purpose, and waited there until the sobs subsided and was
told that she had been kind, very kind, but Louise thought she would go home for the rest of the day.

What hurt Louise most was that to him, in spite of all the loyalty, the thought, the care, the hard, hard work, the near-inspirational ideas, she was still simply the sassy girl with good legs who had walked in the door and been hired as the company PA. There she was, preserved, a sexy dolly bird, for the rest of their time together; everything else that she had achieved had clearly been seen as some kind of happy accident made possible by Matt’s and Jimbo’s generosity and the opportunities they could offer her, and had nothing to do with any talent that she might have brought to them.

And just as bad—worse, possibly—was Barry, who had accepted the offer, shaken hands on the deal, and not even thrown her a word of warning, or insisted that she should at least have been aware of it, before going off to meet some developers in Manchester for the day. That was a truly, truly dreadful example of men, in all their arrogant, God-given superiority, at work.

At some point in the afternoon, Jenny called and said that Matt would like to speak to her.

“I said I’d try, Miss Mullen, ask you if you wanted to speak to him, but I told him I didn’t think it was very likely.”

“You tell him you were right, Jenny. I don’t want to speak to him.”

Later, much, much later, the phone rang again and it was Barry. Louise told him to fuck off.

“And just before you do, may I say I always thought Matt Shaw was a bastard; I had a slightly higher opinion of you. How wrong I was.”

She stayed at home for another two days, gathering her strength, and then called them to say she was coming in to see them.

They said all the predictable things: that they really valued her input to the company but that it was a man’s world, and there was no way she could do the job that Jimbo had and Barry would; that they would create a new role for her within the company, with a new title, like new business director, give her more money, give her a swanky new office.

“Well, that’s extremely generous of you. Let me tell you, you pair of bigoted, self-centred, chauvinist idiots, I wouldn’t go on working with either of you if you paid me a million pounds a year. This is the last time
I shall set foot in this office. And don’t think I won’t play very dirty if you try to hold me to my contract or tell me to keep my hands off the clients. I can think of several who’d rather work with me than you. WireHire, for a start.”

“I think you should be very careful about all this,” said Matt. “Whatever you might say, there are legal restraints in place.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Louise, “I suppose you think I’m not capable of realising that either. Anyway, I’m having lunch with a guy from the
Mail
tomorrow. I think I can persuade him to write a really nice piece about me and what I’ve achieved, and your pathetic, antediluvian attitude and how I’m looking for a job. I’m going now. Barry, please don’t bother trying to contact me. I’ll decide when or rather if that happens, OK?”

“Oh, Christ,” said Matt, as she swept out. “We’ll have to think of something pretty damn smart. And … what does
antediluvian
mean?”

“Before the flood,” said Barry.

“Right. But I’ll tell you something,” Matt added, “I’m not going to be held to ransom over this, Barry, and I imagine you aren’t either.”

Barry, who had spent most of his life avoiding conflict by the simple deployment of his charm, found himself in the interesting position of having to make a choice between Matt and his career and Louise and his personal life. Matt, slightly to Barry’s own surprise, won.

Louise, having checked out her contract and removed her personal possessions from the office, had left without further discussion of any kind. They tried to tell themselves they didn’t care.

“I think you’re quite mad, both of you, and I think you’ll be very sorry,” said Eliza, when Matt finally told her what had happened.

“Rubbish,” said Matt. “She wasn’t up to a partnership, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Really?” said Eliza. “We shall see. I’d put money on us hearing quite a lot about Louise Mullen in the future. I presume it’s all over between Barry and her?”

“I believe so, yes,” said Matt shortly. “It was never going to work anyway. Not long-term.”

“Because he’s married?”

“Well, yes, but also because she was far too ambitious. Not wife material.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Eliza. “Do come into the real world, Matt. Not that I’m in it either,” she added with a sigh. “And it’ll be another twenty years, I suppose, before I even qualify for entry, if you have anything to do with it.”

She rang Jenny to find out Louise’s new number.

“I’m sorry, Jenny. Very sorry. To hear she’s gone. Please give her my love and tell her if she likes to call me, I’ll always be very happy to hear from her.”

“I will, Mrs. Shaw. Thank you.”

“She’s so nice,” Jenny said, reporting this conversation to Louise. “What a time she must have with him. I feel quite sorry for her, even with all she’s got, the money and that.”

“Jenny, so do I,” said Louise.

Two weeks later, having worked out her statutory notice, Jenny left also, and moved into the temporary office Louise had set up in her flat. Both Matt and Barry were at a complete loss without her.

Matt agreed they had lost a lot by Louise’s departure, while adding that there would be a lot less emotion and turmoil around without her and that their day-to-day professional life was certainly simpler. And that no one was irreplaceable.

Barry wasn’t quite sure how much he meant it.

The following spring, Eliza became pregnant again. Emmie’s behaviour had slowly begun to improve and she felt—just—brave enough.

Matt was extremely pleased. “This one will be a boy,” he said. “I know it.” And when he had had a few drinks, he would lie with his head on Eliza’s stomach, talking to the baby.

“You in there,” he would say, “you listen to me. We’re going to need each other, you and me, protect us from your mother and sister. Don’t worry; I’ll look after you, make sure they don’t boss you around too much. You take care now, son. See you soon.”

It was very sweet, really, Eliza thought. Sweet and, like so much to
do with Matt, unexpected. His unpredictability was one of the things she most loved about him.