Wonder Women (64 page)

She managed to walk rather than run to the Ladies, her lips tightly pursed, and dashed into a cubicle. To her relief, there was no one else there. Her bacon roll came up quickly, followed by a few agonising minutes of dry heaving, through which she prayed that the bathroom would remain empty. Finally, it stopped. She flushed and came out to face her own horrifying reflection: damp hair, smudged mascara, swollen lips . . . and the equally unwelcome vision of Deidre from HR, who peered at her curiously.

‘Oooh . . . not well, are we?' Deidre said, in a cutesy, wheedling tone.

‘I'm fine,' Louise said briskly, going to the basin and turning on a tap to repair the damage. ‘Dodgy bacon roll.'

‘From the caff?' Deidre looked horrified. Deidre was not a small girl. The caff was her spiritual home.

‘Yes,' Louise said firmly, and, she hoped, finally. She folded a paper towel and wet it, using it to mop up the worst of the panda eyes. She combed her fingers through her hair: it was short and straight, and this temporary repair would have to do. She desperately wanted to rinse
out her mouth, but she was damned if she was going to do that with Deidre staring at her. Not one to take a hint, she hadn't moved.

‘Can I get you anything, Louise? A glass of water? An antacid?'

(A gun? Louise thought.) ‘No thanks, Deidre, I'm fine now. Really. I'd just like a minute . . .'

‘Of course,' she said, still not moving. Then Louise caught Deidre's eye in the mirror. It was as if she could see the cogs creaking in Deidre's not-very-bright mind. She could see Deidre adding the vomiting to what she had no doubt heard about Louise's fling with Brian. She saw Deidre glance at her breasts, then look up guiltily and catch her eye again. Then Deidre turned away and went quickly into a toilet cubicle, locking the door behind her.

Louise went back to her desk and sat very still, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't imagined the gossip would start so soon. But now she could just see Deidre sitting in the staffroom with her packet of smokybacon crisps, whispering to Ethel from Accounts and one or two of the shopfloor boys. It would be a matter of hours before it crossed the branch barrier and someone in Brian's branch, or, God forbid, Head Office, got wind of it. She needed to get out . . . out of Barrett and Humphries, out of Leeds, as quickly as possible.

She thought about ringing Simon in a panic and explaining what had just happened. He'd tell her she was being paranoid, that she was seeing spies round every corner. Deidre couldn't possibly know, and she could
speculate all she liked . . . nobody would believe her. She was a notoriously unreliable gossip. And anyway, who was to say Louise wasn't in a relationship with someone else? They didn't know. That's what Simon would say. She took a deep breath. She didn't need to ring him . . . just thinking about speaking to him had calmed her down. It would all be fine.

That evening, she got home to a long, breathless message from Rachel on her answering machine. She couldn't face talking to her, so she sent a text saying thanks for the good wishes, but she would be out all evening and couldn't chat. She knew that the following evening was Rachel's yoga night, so she had a day or two's grace.

Work carried on as normal. She kept an eye on Deidre from HR, but she didn't seem to be watching Louise too closely or looking too suspicious. Louise began to relax. She knew that the next step was speaking to Brian. She didn't have the courage to ring or email him and ask to meet. That Friday was the branch managers' meeting. She had decided she would corner him after the meeting and ask to go for a quick coffee. She'd tell him then, with the minimum of fuss. She'd do it in a public place, so he couldn't yell at her, and so she couldn't get over-emotional and cry.

She arrived at Head Office early. She'd dressed carefully in a navy suit that she knew looked good: professional, but not sexy. As she got out of her car, Stephanie, who was the new assistant manager at Brian's branch, pulled
into the parking lot. She waved enthusiastically at Louise, who felt obliged to wait, so they could go in together. Stephanie was tall and blonde, with a wide toothy grin and a tendency to talk a lot and very animatedly. She was not the companion Louise would have chosen that morning, but she plastered on a smile and nodded while Stephanie rattled on about the monthly figures and the big contract she and Brian had just signed. Reception soon filled with management from all the branches, and everyone chattered around her. Stephanie went off to talk at someone else, and Louise poured herself a cup of tea and waited in a corner. She saw Brian arrive, and saw him glance at her and frown. He was wearing a crisp, ice-blue shirt and he looked very handsome. She felt a little tug . . . this man was the father of her child. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe he would want to be involved . . . how she couldn't imagine. But maybe they would find a way. She wanted to go to him then. But she hung back.

That was how she saw what she saw. Edward's PA opened the doors of the conference room and they all began to file in. Brian and Stephanie walked in together and Louise was just a few steps behind. As they got to the doorway, she saw Brian reach out and slide a finger inside the cuff of Stephanie's jacket and stroke her wrist.

Louise stopped dead. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Someone behind her bumped into her, and there was a flurry of apologies and laughter which carried her into the meeting, Somehow, she didn't know how, she made it through the meeting and even gave her
report in an even, clear voice. As soon as they finished, she made an excuse about an urgent phone call, ran to her car and sped away.

As soon as she got back to her branch, she shut her office door, then opened the filing cabinet. She had her employment contract on file, and she took it out to go through it carefully. She was enormously relieved to see that her notice period was only a calendar month. The contract did include a restraint of trade, but that only stipulated she couldn't work for another printing business within a fifty-mile radius of Leeds for the next year. She'd be able to get a job in London, if anyone was mad enough to take on a pregnant single parent.

Well, sooner rather than later, she said to herself. She pulled the computer keyboard closer and began to type:

Dear Edward,
It is with great regret that I tender my resignation with immediate effect . . .

She put in some gumph about a change in family circumstances and the need to be in London – that was roughly true – the baby was her family, after all – and signed off saying how much she'd enjoyed working at Barrett and Humphries. That was entirely true. She'd loved the challenges of her job: climbing the ladder, getting her own branch to run, making it one of the most successful in the group. She would miss it, and she would miss her staff, even tiresome Deidre from HR. No time for
sentimentality, though. She printed the letter, signed it and popped it in an envelope. She'd drop it off at Head Office on her way home. Once the envelope was sealed, she felt an odd sense of relief, as if the plan was now in motion.

She knew Edward wouldn't just accept her resignation, so she was prepared for the call she received at home as soon as she got in that evening. She'd worked out a list of things to say: yes, her family definitely needed her. No, she couldn't be persuaded to stay. No, it had nothing to do with dissatisfaction, she was very happy in her job. No, more money would not make her change her mind. Edward paused, and she could practically hear him arguing silently with himself before he finally, hesitantly said, ‘It's not . . . a man, is it, Lou?'

‘Definitely not,' she said, keeping her voice steady. She had no idea what gossip Edward might have heard, but the less she said, the less she could incriminate herself.

‘Good,' said Edward, sounding relieved. He wasn't one to pry about emotional issues, so she knew he'd rather not have asked the question at all. He certainly wasn't going to pursue the matter. ‘Well, Louise,' he said seriously, ‘I really am gutted to see you go. Truly I am. If there's anything I can do . . . you know . . . to help you find your feet down south, just let me know.'

‘Thanks, Edward,' Louise said, genuinely moved. She hadn't expected that. ‘Well, if you do hear of anyone looking to hire someone, let me know. My . . . er . . . family commitments will be quite heavy, so I'll be looking to work
predictable hours, not too much travel, that sort of thing.'

‘I'll keep an ear to the ground,' Edward promised, and rang off.

So this was it. A month from now, she'd he heading for London . . . jobless, homeless and pregnant. She felt so, so afraid, and suddenly, irrationally, she wished Brian was there. She wished he wasn't a faithless, immoral slug of a man, but instead was single, sexy and desperately in love with her. And she wished, more than anything, that she could share this life-changing experience with the father of her child. And then she began to cry.

Edward had rung the minute she walked through the door, and now, through the tears, she noticed that her answering machine was blinking away like mad. Rachel. She'd put her sister off for days and days, but she had to face up to it and speak to her. Not quite yet, though. She sniffed and looked around for a tissue to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. But before she could find one, the phone rang again. And as soon as she picked it up, Rachel began talking.

‘Oh my goodness! I couldn't believe it when I opened the email with your amazing news! That's just brilliant. You must be so excited. Have you decided where the baby will be born? Have you made any antenatal appointments yet? I'm really happy to come up to Leeds and go along with you. Wait till you have the first scan, it's so amazing to see your little darling on the screen . . .'

Rachel drew breath and Louise took the opportunity and cut in.

‘Slow down! I haven't had any appointments yet, and I'm coming down to London in four weeks, so I'll register with a doctor and organise everything then.'

‘Oh my God, are you crying?'

‘No.'

‘Lou, I've been your sister for thirty-four years. I know what your voice sounds like when you're crying. What's happened? You're not spotting, are you?'

‘I'm fine, just a bit tired, that's all. Listen, Rach, this isn't a great time . . .'

Louise felt instantly guilty. She was always busy when Rachel rang, it was never a good time, she always said she'd ring her straight back, and she almost never did. Rachel was obviously thinking of making a fuss, but she thought better of it. If Louise was pregnant and emotional, she'd go easy on her. She was clearly trying to sound smiley, easy and encouraging.

‘I know, I know . . . you're busy. Just tell me the basics and I'll let you go.'

‘I'm pregnant, that's as much as I know.'

‘How many weeks?'

‘Nine, now, I think.'

‘You think? Are you not sure? When was your last period? Are you still so regular? Because it can make a difference to your due date, you know, if your cycle is shorter or longer.'

Louise felt stretched to the limit. She didn't want to have a girly chat with her sister. She was tired and anxious and over-emotional, and she needed to absorb what she'd seen in the meeting-room doorway that morning. But
Rachel was trying so hard, and this must be so difficult for her. She shouldn't be mean. She really shouldn't. She'd just have to bite the bullet and answer the question she knew was coming.

‘And . . . the daddy?'

‘We're not together, Rach.'

‘So you said in your email . . . but what does he think?'

‘About what?'

‘About being a dad? About your moving away? How will he have access? Have you made maintenance arrangements? I've heard the Child Support Agency is much better now at chasing deadbeat dads.'

‘Rachel . . . I . . .' Oh boy. She really, really hadn't wanted to get into this. But unless she was going to come up with a pack of lies that she'd have to remember, it was probably easiest just to tell the truth.

‘I haven't made any arrangements because I'm not sure I'm going to tell him. That's one of the reasons I'm coming down to London. We broke up, there's no future. He probably never needs to know.'

‘Louise! You can't do that! What about when your baby's a teenager and wants to go looking for his or her dad. What will happen then?'

‘Well, then . . . I don't know.'

Rachel was talking again, very fast and in a very shrill voice, but Louise couldn't listen to her. Not any more. Not right now. She cut her off mid-flow. ‘This is very early days, Rach. I still have a lot of stuff to work out. I know that. Please stop bombarding me with questions, okay?'

‘I'm not bombarding you, I'm only trying to—'

‘I know, I know! Okay? Can you just give me a bit of time? A few days to sort my head out. And then I'll try and have answers to some of your very valid questions.'

‘All right,' said Rachel, slightly soothed. ‘I'm just going to ask one more question.'

Louise sighed. ‘What?'

‘Are you taking folic acid?'

‘Folic what?'

‘You need to be taking folic acid to stop your baby getting spina bifida. And at your age, you need to find out if they do the triple test in your area or if you need to go private.'

‘The what? Triple test? Stop talking medical talk at me!'

‘I have to! There's stuff you need to know and be thinking about right now. There's no time to waste. Your baby's in its most critical stage of development right as we speak. Listen. I'm emailing you the address of a website. It's got everything you need to know . . . and also a great forum section if you want to chat to other mums online.'

‘I'm not really one for online chat . . .'

‘Whatever. Don't use that part if you don't want to. But there's loads of information that you might find useful. Trust me. I'm going now. Love you, okay?'