The One Before the One (12 page)

I lean back, look up at the stars, thinking about what Wayne just said. Why
didn’t
Toby just get rid of her, if she’s so bad? He had a point. But then nobody knows the real reasons somebody stays with someone, do they? And nobody knows both sides of the story.

My vision’s blurred now. I’m getting the feeling this vetting-Wayne visit hasn’t really turned out like it was supposed to. I should go, I think. Go before I emotionally seep even more and Wayne starts to wonder what sort of madwoman his protégé’s come to spend the summer with.

I take a last look at the view – just dark shapes now and the lights of Albert Bridge, soft and bruised looking after far too much wine. I finish my drink.

‘Lex!’ I call clambering clumsily down the ladder of the boat. ‘Lexi, we should go, it’s nearly eleven o’clock …’

Then I stop on the bottom rung. I blink hard, and I try to compute what I see. My sister, eye make-up smudged, leaning louchely against the dresser, a glass of wine in her hand and Wayne, his hand slap bang on her left breast!

‘Alexis Steele!’ I shout, at the top of my voice. ‘Get your stuff. We are going home. NOW!’

It’s been ten days since the Wayne debacle and Lexi is adamant I read it all wrong.

‘It wasn’t what it looked like,’ she kept saying, the following day. We were in Debenhams trying to buy tailored trousers for her first week’s work experience with me where I could keep an eye on her. I hoped it meant that she wouldn’t feel the need to work for wandering-hands Wayne (I should have known better with a name like that), although Lexi’s having none of it: ‘Wayne’s about as far away from a pervert as it’s possible to get.’

What that was exactly, I didn’t really know. What I did know was that a hand on a breast is a hand on a breast and I didn’t want her working for someone who puts his hand on her breast. Why she’s sticking up for him, I’ll never know.

To think I was actually starting to listen to her and Wayne’s nuggets of wisdom about the lists and ‘avoiding the Big Stuff’. Knob. And now she’s got this bizarre idea that Wayne fancies me.

‘The thing is, I think he likes you.’ We were standing at the sales counter, buying her a dress. (Lexi, rather eloquently had said she’d rather eat her own excrement than buy tailored trousers.)

I laughed out loud.

‘Oh yeah, because groping my little sister would be a sure way to my heart. Not.’

Lexi sort of growled.

‘Can you just shut up about the groping thing? He wasn’t, he didn’t! Didn’t you see the look on his face?’

‘Yes, guilt.’

‘No, he was mortified! Think what you like but you’re wrong. Wayne’s lovely, and he fancies you.’

‘How do you know?’ I said. (Why did I
want
to know?)

‘I just do,’ she says. ‘I have instincts for such things.’

I roll my eyes. If Lexi’s instincts about men so far this summer were anything to go by, I wasn’t going to listen.

‘The thing about men like that, Lexi,’ I said, ‘is that they fancy everyone. They think they can just ply you with booze then take advantage. And I don’t want you working with him. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’ I shrugged. ‘And anyway, Dad would kill him if he knew.’

It struck me as I said that that Dad wasn’t really a chivalrous type and would be more likely to offer him therapy to deal with his sexual deviance issues than kill him.

The trip to Debenhams was last Sunday, then, on Monday, Lexi started work experience at mine. Something I’m not sure was a good idea either.

Marta stirs her coffee and sighs, dramatically.

‘I won’t be here this afternoon as I’m at the consultant’s again.’

It’s never just common or garden doctor with Marta, always the consultant.

I’m not really listening. I’m too busy watching Lexi from in between the blinds of our office kitchen where, ten minutes ago, I got cornered by Marta. Marta’s been suffering from a mystery ‘personal’ illness for three months now, and since
nobody bothers to actually ask, she has no option but to hint.

‘They’ll be scanning me at the hospital,’ she adds, hopefully.

‘Great,’ I say, opening the blinds a little wider.

Since Lexi started at SCD, I’ve had to watch her like a hawk in case she does something inappropriate (which is often). Whenever she picks up my phone, my heart’s in my mouth. Why I included answering it as one of the key requirements of her job description, I’ll never know. I meant
answer
the phone. Not have a half-hour conversation with whoever’s on the other line.

‘What’s that, Marta?’

‘I said, they’ll be scanning me at the hospital. So depending on the results, I might not be quite myself tomorrow.’

Lexi’s over at Shona’s desk, chatting now. Then I see the red light of my phone start flashing and Lexi move towards it, as if in slow motion and it’s only as she does that I realize: ‘Shit. That’ll be Schumacher.’

Marta sighs, very audibly this time.

‘I’ll soldier on in though, don’t worry, even if the news is bad.’

‘Good. I mean not good.’ You really have to concentrate when talking to Marta, otherwise you drift off and end up saying something completely inappropriate. ‘You really don’t have to, Marta. Look, can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s just … LEXI!’ I’m banging on the kitchen window now, trying to get her attention before it’s too late. ‘Lexi, leave that, will you? Just leave …’
Oh bollocks.
Then I’m legging it towards my desk, just as I hear Marta say:

‘The consultant says I’m probably polycystic.’

Lexi’s reached my desk now.

‘I’ll get that, Lexi! I’ll get that, just …’

Too late.

‘Oh,
hi,
Darryl.’

It
is
Schumacher. Shit.

‘Yeah, I’m still here.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘No, they haven’t found out about the criminal record yet.’

Oh God.

‘Sorry, what’s that?’ She’s sticking her fingers down her throat now and Shona’s shaking her head, Shona having taken Lexi on as her protégé in her silent war against Schumacher. ‘Has anybody asked me out yet? Urgh. Letchy or what. I don’t think …’

‘Thank you!’ I yank the phone from Lexi.

‘Hello, Darryl. Terribly sorry about that. Now, how can I help?’

I’m fast learning that the biggest problem with taking on a seventeen-year-old intern is that ‘Professionalism’ is not a concept they get. In the past week alone my sister has asked Janine if she was dyslexic (she is). (Most of us don’t dare to ask Janine the time, never mind if she suffers from a learning disability in full earshot of the office.) Then she went out to get Janine lunch before announcing Janine owed her ninety-five pence. Janine hasn’t bought her own lunch since about 1989 and has no idea how much things cost. Every other intern has just kept quiet. Not Lexi, no. Not my little sister.

After day two, we had a little chat about office politics; about how one doesn’t talk to Janine unless spoken to, let alone enquire about her health.

‘And I’m sorry, but as irritating as he is, Schumacher’s a vital client,’ I said. ‘If I fuck up this Minty Me thing, the company loses out, never mind me and my chance of winning Sales Person of the Year, which is important to me, Lex, you know?’ I reasoned with her. ‘So, no matter what you think of him, unfortunately, you have to be polite at all times.’

‘But he’s a
disgusting,
sexist sleazebag,’ she said, genuinely baffled by my desire to engage with him on any level.

‘I know, but this is business.’

So it’s been a stressful week for many reasons. The longer this Toby thing goes on, the harder I’m finding it to hide my feelings in the office. Since the glorious night at Malmaison, I feel like barriers have been broken and we don’t know where the lines are any more; like we’re in danger of slipping up at any given moment.

In some ways this is thrilling because I feel like I’m having an actual relationship; like the looks he gives me are more loaded. Then again, the last thing I want is this to come out at work. If we’re meant to be together, then I want it to happen the proper way. I want him to leave his wife and us to be able to have a normal relationship that we don’t have to conceal as a book club. In this way, then, the slipping up thing at work is a real issue. Especially now with Lexi around and her sixth sense for such things.

The other morning, when Toby said something funny at the photocopying machine, I caught myself touching his face.

Lexi was sitting opposite and started laughing.

‘What are you doing?’ she said.

‘What?’ I said, innocently.

‘You just stroked his face!’

‘No, I did not.’

‘You did!’

‘I didn’t.’

This was becoming like a pantomime. Then Toby saved the day.

‘Come on now, Steeley you did, don’t be ashamed. Although we were discussing my outbreak of eczema, so, not exactly romantic.’

I could see Lexi looking for any evidence of a skin disease on Toby’s flawless face. I stared straight ahead.

Then this afternoon, after the Schumacher telephone debacle, Toby and I are looking at some figures on the whiteboard when Lexi comes out with:

‘So you know this book club thing. What’s it all about? Does everyone in the office come?

I nearly gag on my tea.

‘Um.’ I look, alarmed, over at Toby for support ‘Well it depends …’

‘On what?’

‘On what week it is,’ I say, feebly, grasping at straws. Toby leans against the whiteboard and sucks air between his teeth.

‘Oooh, I wouldn’t mention the book club in this office, Lex. Political hot potato. Messing with fire,’ he says, taking his lighter out of his pocket and lighting it for added punch.

Lexi wrinkles her nose.

‘What you on about, weirdo?’ Since she started at SCD, Lexi’s started a little sister/big brother over-familiarity thing with Toby, which I’m not that keen on, but then I guess it’s better than the outright flirting I saw in my kitchen.

Toby folds his arms and leans in towards Lexi, whispering in her ear.

‘Let’s just say, it’s caused rifts in the past.’

‘Yes,’ I add.
‘Enormous
rifts. Rifts like, God, like …’

‘Rift Valley,’ says Toby, seriously, and I have to try hard not to laugh.

‘Why would a book club cause rifts?’ asks Lexi. Toby and I are both twitching on the words ‘book club', aware that Shona’s walking over here now and, as far as Shona’s concerned, the dissolution of the book club happened months ago.

‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ says Toby. ‘Literature can bond and break people.’

‘So, was there a massive fight? Was it like book club warfare?’ Lexi asks, suddenly excited.

‘Ssh!’ Toby interjects, loudly, putting his finger to his lips. I almost want to laugh now. I’ve never seen Toby like this. ‘Like I say, it’s wise to just, you know …’

He taps the side of his nose.

‘No,’ says Lexi.

‘Just don’t discuss the BC thing, okay, Lex? People get very funny about it in this office.’

As soon as Shona is back at her desk and chatting with Lexi, I email Toby in a panic.

‘So what are we going to do, Steeley?’

We’re in the meeting room now, standing against the wall, Toby tenderly tidying a strand of hair behind my ear.

‘Call it off?’

‘No way!’

‘Oh, well if you say so.’

‘I do. I couldn’t do without my fortnightly fix of these
little puppies for a start.’ He puts his hands on my boobs and I feel a shiver of arousal, as well as one of slight disappointment. Didn’t he want more than a fortnightly fix? In an ideal world?

‘And every fortnight does seem a long time to wait, don’t you think?’ I say, hopefully.

‘God yeah.’ He puts his hands around my waist and pulls me close. ‘I missed you this weekend.’

‘Really?’

Missed me? He’s never said that before.

‘Rachel was working all weekend as usual, so I just sort of hung around like a spare part. But listen, I’ve got something serious to talk to you about on the Rachel front.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I say excited. (Oh my God, could this be it?)

‘She wants to meet you.’

‘Oh! No way. No
way
!’ I say. ‘Are you mad?’

‘She wants to ask you over for dinner,’ he says and winces.

‘Well, I won’t go.’

‘But she won’t let it lie.’ He kisses me, as if that will butter me up. ‘She keeps saying, “When am I going to meet Caroline? When are you going to invite her round for dinner?” I keep putting her off, but she’ll start getting suspicious if I do it much longer.’

He pulls me closer, starts nuzzling my neck.

‘Toby.’ I giggle, pulling away. ‘What are you doing? You can’t snog me here. You can’t get round me like that.’

‘Who says?’ he kisses me again.

‘
I
say.’

‘Cut loose a bit, Steele, don’t be uptight …’

‘But what if someone walks in?’

‘God, I so fancy you,’ he says, plunging towards me for another kiss. I give in. I’ve totally succumbed. Toby’s got his hands in my hair and we’re just going for it now, up against the wall of the meeting room. I can hear the blood rushing
in my ears and the sound of our breathing, quickened, faster. Then … disaster. Massive, huge, humongous disaster. I hear the handle go and time seems to slow down. I can see the handle turning. I make a last ditch, frantic plea for Toby to stop by nipping his buttock and trying to speak but he’s suckered to my lips so it just sounds like I’ve been gagged and I think he thinks I’m just being kinky. Then it’s all over. Shona walks in, a look of absolute horror on her face.

‘OhmigodFUCK!’ She covers her eyes.

‘Fuck!’ Toby springs apart from me, wiping his lips and leaving the top two buttons of my blouse undone.

‘Bra,’ I say, eyes squeezed shut, not sure what that’s going to achieve.

‘Jesus, you two,’ says Shona and slams the door shut.

Shona eyes me seriously from over her coffee cup, her brown eyes full of concern.

‘Mate, I’m just shocked, I’m just worried. It’s not that I think you’re a bad person or anything,’ she says, in a stage whisper.

The SCD canteen is a hive of gossip. God knows how many torrid office affairs must have been played out across these flimsy, wipe-clean tables, how many conversations with confidantes, just like this one. I feel like a cheap cliché.

‘Don’t lie to me. You don’t have to lie to me, Shone. I
am
awful – and it’s so unlike me.’

Shona nods her head.

‘So
unlike you,’ she says. ‘Of all the people, all the friends …’

‘I am the woman least likely to have an affair with a married man?’

‘Yes! Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not exactly the most fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants person in the world, the most reckless person I know.’