The Last Word (23 page)

‘Oh really, sweetheart, why should I not worry? Should I sit back and let you take care of everything? Because last time I did that, I ended up taking the blame for a major political scandal and being used as a scapegoat.’

Harry’s voice was quiet and firm. ‘I’m not him, Tabitha. Be careful.’

His warning just riled her more. ‘What are you going to do, Harry? Will you fire me? Will you use our personal relationship to explain why our paper is suddenly suffering? What are you going to do to me, Mr Big-Shot Editor, tell me!’ She was quite enjoying herself, except for the sick feeling in her stomach, and the little voice in her head screaming, ‘Shut up! What the fuck are you talking about, you mad woman!’

‘Don’t test me, Tabby.’ There were times when Harry’s voice got all growly, but it was usually when she was teasing him, and he was just about to pin her to the bed and tickle her until she cried, or kneed him, whichever happened first. But this dark, angry, quiet voice was so still, so full of control that Tabby almost shivered.

‘Or…what?’ she asked softly, not really sure where to go.

Harry sighed and she could visualise him running his hands through his hair, and see that irritated look he always used to have when she first started arguing with him. Except she could also tell he was sad, and possibly backing down. When he spoke, however, he was all control and complete calm, once again.

‘I’m not going to give you an ultimatum, Tabby, I know that doesn’t work with you. I’m not going to tell you what to do, what to say or what to think. I’m not going to mention that you still haven’t given me an answer about continuing to work at the paper indefinitely, or that I know you heard me when I told you I loved you. I’m just going to tell you that everything is going to be all right. And maybe that you shouldn’t be such a massive bitch to the people who are trying to help.’

He hung up on her. She would have been outraged if she wasn’t too busy feeling guilty. But then, of course, the article was just sitting there on her laptop screen, and she couldn’t not look at it. She couldn’t stop herself reading it and re-reading it. Analysing it, looking at his words, what things about her he particularly attacked, using his intimate knowledge of every one of her issues. Dick the Prick knew exactly what he was doing. If he hadn’t implied that she slept her way to the top, proclaimed she was shallow, untalented and untrustworthy after her injunction debacle, she might have been able to accept it as criticism and move forward. But the bastard had saved up all her secrets and issues from three years ago to use against her. And, forgetting Harry for a moment, it was time to get even.

***

It was a week later when Tabby got a phone call from Chandra.

‘Hello?’

‘What the fuck have you just done?’ Chandra’s voice was tight and irritated.

‘I don’t know, what have I done?’

‘I’ve just read your latest article.’

Tabby frowned. ‘Didn’t you think it was good? I was really proud of that.’

Chandra huffed, and Tabby looked at herself in the mirror, applying concealer to the dark circles under her eyes. She was going to have a celebratory drink with Rhi, when she came back from the library. War against Dick the Prick had been waged. And she would win.

‘I can’t believe they printed it. Did Harry see it?’

Tabby bit her lip. ‘I passed it straight to the editorial team, I didn’t think he’d let me publish it.’

‘Well, no fucking wonder! Have you spoken to him?’

‘I know he’s probably angry about me bypassing him, but it had to be done – ’

‘Tabby! He’s not going to be angry about ignoring him as an editor. He’s going to be heartbroken about what you’ve said about him!’

Tabby frowned at her reflection, turning away to truly focus on her friend. ‘I didn’t write anything about him. It was about Dick the Prick attacking me in print last week.’

‘It’s called “A Good Writer Sleeps Alone!”, Tabs, the entire article is about how you shouldn’t sleep with your editor because they’ll take advantage of you, take credit for your work and screw you over. If the people at your office read this, they’ll think you’re talking about Harry. No one knew about you and Richard.’

Tabby’s jaw dropped. ‘How could anyone think that about Harry? He’d never do anything like that!’

‘They’ll think it because you implied it, you idiot!’ Chandra shouted. ‘Now phone that boy and beg forgiveness! Jeez!’

Chandra hung up on her. It seemed like the longer they stayed friends, the more they were able to tell each other the truth. And the truth was that Chandra liked Harry, and thought he was good for her friend. And the other truth was that Tabby was a silly, scared, angry girl who had just hurt the first man who trusted her.

She quickly rang Harry’s mobile, but it only rang twice before going directly to voicemail. He didn’t want to talk to her. Well, that was infuriating, because she wanted to explain. She tried ringing the office and being put through to Harry at the paper. He was in meetings all day. She tried again through the switchboard, posing as an informant with a story. It didn’t even get past his secretary, who informed her that, ‘Mr Shulman has no interest in any stories from anyone, Miss Riley.’ Damn caller display.

She had options. She could email him. She could go to the office. She could wait outside his house like a desperate freak. She could get angry and refuse to apologise and be irritated that he was taking everything so personally. Yeah, indignant was probably the way to go. Stupid man.

Instead, she decided to do nothing. Except that was making her nervous. So she decided to kill the hours until Rhi came home with drinking and baking. Everyone loved cookies. And even mean writers who accidentally ruined their casual fling’s professional reputation were allowed to enjoy cookies.

She burned each batch.

Eventually, after two hours, Rhi came home to find Tabby sitting on the living room floor, teary-eyed with a bottle of wine and a plate of burnt cookies.

‘I think I’ve fucked everything up again!’ She burst into tears.

Rhi, who’s tired and exasperated expression quickly morphed into surprise and sympathy, held her close and stroked her hair while Tabby explained.

‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Chandra thinks about things more emotionally than most people,’ Rhi said soothingly.

Tabby resolutely stomped upstairs, brought her laptop back down, opened the article and watched as Rhi’s mouth dropped open while she read.

‘Jesus, Tabs, really? “Obsessive sycophant? Woman hater? Dominant and vindictive”?’

‘I was trying to get even!’ Tabby wailed.

‘Look, I’m sure all the people who read Dick the Prick’s piece will get what you’re doing. Hell, I’m sure even Harry knows what you meant to do. I mean, why would you suddenly go from loved up at your mum’s wedding to hating his guts, it wouldn’t make sense. He’s probably just irritated that you’ve embarrassed him,’ Rhi said, prying a burnt cookie from Tabby’s hand.

‘We sort of argued. Before this.’

‘About?’ Rhi was wary.

‘How I didn’t trust him. And couldn’t make a decision on whether to stay. And I compared him to Richard.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Tabby!’

‘I know!’ Tabby howled softly, and felt like her stomach was about to cave in from the pain. ‘I’m awful!’

‘You’re not awful, you’re just ridiculous! You’re usually so much better at putting yourself down on a page, but why can’t you just say what you’re thinking when you actually think it, to the person you want to know?’

‘What?’

‘Tell Harry you love him, moron.’ Rhi sighed.

‘But – ’

‘But fucking nothing, OK? The only reason you’re holding out is because it seems too easy. And you know why it seems that way? Because it is! Girl meets boy. Girl fights with boy. Girl has crazy sexual chemistry with boy. Girl and boy shag. Girl and boy get to know each other. Girl and boy fall in love. It lasts for a while or it ends. Everything’s fine. The End.’

‘It’s not that simple!’ Tabby protested.

‘It is! It is that simple. You just want more drama, for the story to be more complex. But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes, boy whores stop their whoring ways for a girl like you. Sometimes, the person you want to love you is exactly the person capable of loving you that way. Sometimes, everything works out. As long as you don’t go and make things more complicated!’

Rhi stood up and towered over Tabby, who was pouting, her bottom lip wobbling with the unfairness and truthfulness of it all. It was her fault. She made things dramatic. She was stupid and passionate and impulsive, and none of those things sounded good right now.

‘You are going to go upstairs, get into bed, have a good long sleep, and tomorrow you’re going to go find Harry and force him to let you apologise. You are going to throw yourself at him and use every womanly wile available to you. Because that man has been good for you. And to you. And he didn’t deserve this.’ Rhi paused. ‘But, for the most part, he deserves you, and that’s the surprising part. Now go to bed,’ she said softly.

‘You’re amazing,’ Tabby said in quiet awe, standing up and stretching tiredly.

‘I’m a bossy cow, but it’s what I do.’

‘Well, I’m glad it’s what you do.’ Tabby squeezed Rhi’s hand and trudged up the stairs to bed, where she would lie awake all night, checking her phone, and desperately trying not to send Harry any more text messages. She sent one at three in the morning: I am so, so sorry.

She spent the next three hours awake, worried because those words sounded so much like goodbye.

Chapter Twenty-One

Tabitha Riley meant business. She was wearing her best pair of jeans, heels that made her feel like she was towering over the universe, and a lipstick called Red Winner. She was going to find Harry, and he was going to let her apologise. Everything was going to be fine. Because she was not that stupid young woman she was five years ago, she was not going to let her pride or the misguided belief that she wasn’t good enough get in the way. She had made a mistake, she was going to fix it. End of.

Tabby strode out of the lift, walking with a wiggle. OK, so she was a little nervous. She hadn’t seen Harry in what felt like for ever. Every rejected phone call and ignored message had struck her somewhere in her stomach, and beneath the layers of make-up her skin was pale from the lack of food and sleep. She was a wreck. But it was fine. It had to be fine.

She felt as though people’s eyes were following her as she walked towards Harry’s office. The women especially, looked at her with derision and outrage. ‘How could you do that to our golden boy?’ they seemed to ask. ‘What did someone like him see in someone like you anyway?’ Tabby took a deep breath, told her inner critic to shut the fuck up, and poked her head around Harry’s office door.

His back was to her, instead he was focused solely on the other person in the room. Jenna. Of course.

‘I’m so sorry, babe,’ she said, reaching for his hand. ‘I read the article. What a bitch.’

‘That’s rich, coming from you.’ Harry’s voice was cold, but Tabby knew that tone. He was warming to her, he was being drawn back in again. Hearing that was heartbreaking.

‘Well, I’m here for you now, if you need me.’ Jenna’s voice was lilting, and Tabby watched as she brought up a perfectly manicured hand to push back a lock of his hair. They were beautiful together. And Tabby had no doubt that if Harry was hurting as much as everyone seemed to think, then sleeping with Jenna would be an easy option.

She had two choices: she could barge in their like a crazy woman, ranting and raving, begging forgiveness in front of a woman who made her feel insignificant and was waiting in the wings for Harry to return, or she could sneak back unnoticed, pride mildly intact, and work out a plan B.

For what may have been the first time in her life, Tabby chose the smart option.

She shuffled down the hall, head down, jumped in the lift, ran from the building and straight into the warm interior of The Black Cat. She ordered a single vodka tonic, and nursed it for two hours.

‘Are you all right, love?’ The barman, whose name escaped her, walked over. She never remembered names. If Harry were here, he’d remember the man’s life story. But if Harry were here, she wouldn’t need someone to ask how she was.

‘Yeah…just…’ Tabby shrugged.

‘That fella of yours causing trouble?’ He wiped down the table.

‘No, I’m the troublemaker. Always,’ Tabby said vacantly.

‘Well, he was in here last night with a blonde girl. Nothing funny, mind. But I thought you should know. Nice bloke and all, but you seem like a lovely girl. My daughter’s age. I’d hate for you to get hurt.’

Too late, Tabby thought, and smiled tightly. ‘Thanks.’

He patted her shoulder briefly, and was gone. Jenna. He came for a drink with Jenna. And he would sleep with her, if he hadn’t already. And the absolutely terrifying thing was, as long as he took her back, Tabby didn’t care. She didn’t care if he slept with Jenna, as long as he forgave her. As long as he still loved her. As long as he would let her say what she wanted to say.

That irritating voice inside her head told her she was a bad feminist, that she was a pushover, that she’d always sworn if a guy cheated she’d be out. That she was pathetic. But that voice had always led her into trouble, encouraging self-doubt and shame and blame and all sorts of ridiculous emotions. So she was going to very simply go to Harry’s house, wait for him, and apologise, because, sometimes, things changed. And when you constantly insist that you’re casual, you can’t really get annoyed if he says he loves you, you accuse him of terrible things, and then he sleeps with a girl who’s a size six. It hurt, but it was fine. Because this was something bigger. Harry’s words. He knew, and now she did too. And she was going to make everything right.

Tabby sat outside Harry’s house, visualising the scene, writing out the perfect scenario: he would be cold; she would be appealing. She would beg, plead, reach out to touch his hand. Make a brief, terrible joke. His top lip would twitch in that way it did when he didn’t want to laugh. But eventually he’d just look at her, staring until she came out with it, until she told him she loved him. He’d smile, pull her towards him. And everything would be all right. Perfect.