Читать книгу What Women Want, Women of a Dangerous Age: 2-Book Collection - Fanny Blake - Страница 21

Chapter 12

Knowing what has to be done is a lot easier than doing it, reflected Bea, as she strode into the office with renewed purpose. She noticed Stuart in Jade’s office. He was stretched back in the one comfortable chair, arms behind his head and eyes half shut while Jade talked at him from the other side of her desk, wearing an unusually earnest expression. Those two spent far too much time closeted together analysing office politics. With one of them gone, the other might sharpen up their act. A reinvigorated twosome with a fixed goal in their sights might well be better than the three of them working together at half-cock. But was she right in her choice as to which one of them should go? Stuart or Jade? Who would make the better working partner? Jade was younger and probably more hungry, but her taste in books was very similar to Bea’s. Stuart, on the other hand, although more world-weary, had a certain edge that might complement Bea better. She had to remember that her choice might make the difference between success and failure. Not just the company’s but hers. And after that lunch, failure was something she didn’t want to entertain.

Jade saw her coming and immediately leaped to her feet. Pencil thin, dressed in black as usual, she had a head of wild black curls that provided a perfect foil for the slash of bright red lipstick she always wore. She paused to listen to something Stuart was saying. Encouraging or discouraging? Bea couldn’t tell. However, whatever it was didn’t dissuade her from coming to her door.

‘Bea! Could I have a word with you?’

‘Not now. I’m sorry but there’s something I’ve got to do. Later this afternoon any good? Or even Monday morning?’

‘It can’t wait, I’m afraid.’ Jade could never be described as aggressive but she sure knew how to assert herself. That was one of the reasons Bea liked and rated her. She knew no one else who would contemplate doorstepping a celeb to persuade a book out of them. That wasn’t what old-fashioned publishing had been about, but Jade was one of a new breed who thought out of the box.

‘Well, I’m sorry, it’s going to have to.’ Bea had to get to her office to think. The last thing she wanted was a discussion with someone she might be about to make redundant.

‘I just need ten minutes. Please. In about half an hour?’

‘All right, if you really insist.’ Bea conceded defeat in the knowledge that Jade would pester her until she gave in. Having such little time in hand would certainly help focus her mind.

Half an hour later, she was still undecided. Much as she would have liked to get the difficult conversation over with before the weekend – something that Adam, doubtless, would have done in her place – she needed more time to be absolutely sure she was doing the right thing. If only she could escape with her antibiotics, go home and start again on Monday. At least she’d be feeling better then. She shifted position to ease her discomfort, then sipped at yet another glass of water. A knock and then Jade put her head around the door. ‘Now a good time?’

‘Just give me another couple of minutes. I’ve got to make one call, then I’m yours.’ Coward.

Bea stood up, straightened her skirt – rather a nice Marc Jacobs number that she’d spotted in the window of Flash for Cash and couldn’t resist on the grounds that secondhand doesn’t count – then picked up her phone and turned to face the window so no one could see she wasn’t speaking.

When Jade came back, she was ready. She was going to pretend everything was normal, soothe any worries and take the next couple of days to be certain of her decision. Stuart and Jade might not be her best friends but they had been loyal colleagues and they at least deserved to be given serious thought and consideration. She owed them that. Even if they were going to think she was a two-faced cow on Monday when they knew the truth.

‘Tea?’ Jade had brought in two mugs with her.

‘Thanks. Lovely.’ Tea was not going to do Tony Castle’s legacy much good, but in the interests of oiling the wheels, she took the proffered mug. ‘Now, what’s so urgent?’

Jade took a deep breath. ‘I know you must be having a really difficult time at the moment.’ Her customary confidence had deserted her. Keeping her eyes on her black-stockinged knees as she spoke, she kept turning a foolscap envelope that she held on her lap.

Bea couldn’t avoid noticing the particularly brilliant shade of Jade’s newly applied red nail varnish – it still had the faint smell of pear-drop. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ She was determined to remain cool and noncommittal.

‘Everybody’s saying there are going to be job cuts.’

Already the conversation had veered from any direction Bea had hoped it would take. ‘Well, it does look as though things are going to be a bit unsettled for the next few weeks.’

‘I saw you going out for lunch with Adam so – maybe I’m adding two and two together – but . . .’

‘No decisions have been made, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Not exactly.’ Jade looked so uncomfortable that Bea almost felt sorry for her.

‘Yes?’ she said, in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

‘I’ve been here for four years now and have loved working with you.’

Oh, no, she was going to plead for her job, citing out-of-work husband, young children, aged parents and, of course, an abiding love of the company. Bea braced herself. ‘Honestly, Jade. Nothing’s been decided.’ Bring on the weekend.

‘That’s good. I thought perhaps I might be making things easier for you if I told you now that I’ve been offered a job at Harcourt House and I’ve decided to take it.’ The last bit came out in a rush as she lifted her head and looked across the desk, straight at Bea, as if wanting her assurance that she had made the right decision.

Managing to refrain from leaping up and hugging her, Bea was nonetheless having difficulty in composing herself. There is a God, after all. Thank you. ‘That’s wonderful news for you. Congratulations. What will you be doing?’

As Jade explained that the new women’s fiction list was being reinvented and put in her charge now because the existing editorial director had moved to America, it became obvious that this was going to be an excellent career move.

‘That all sounds fantastic. A great break for you. I’m not going to try to persuade you to stay because, the way things are, I think this will be a much, much better deal than anything I could offer.’ That, at least, was true.

‘I was hoping you’d say that. Thank you.’ Jade was all smiles now the worst was over. ‘Here’s my resignation letter. I thought I’d better make it formal.’ She passed Bea the envelope.

‘Perhaps I should have a word with Stuart, just to put his mind at rest about what’s happening here.’ Bea couldn’t quite believe how good fortune had played into her hands. ‘Could you ask him to come in?’

Stuart entered her office at his most recalcitrant, his scar gleaming pearly white. He left on a high to go and celebrate with Jade. Bea had reassured him that his job was secure. Deciding to put all her cards on the table, she confided that Jade had in fact done him a favour. She hadn’t wanted to lose either of them but she was delighted with the way the dice had fallen. He would have more responsibility and together they would make a strong team with a vital role in turning the company around. Fired with enthusiasm, they planned to meet the following week to discuss tactics.

After he’d gone, Bea spent a couple of hours catching up with a backlog of work and tidied the office ready for a new start. For the first time in months, she went home fired up and looking forward to what was to come.

*

As she soaked in a hot bath, hoping that it would relieve the worst of her symptoms, she let her mind run to their source. Tony Castle. Why, when she had at last met a man, even if their brief acquaintance had been fuelled by alcohol, did he have to have been such a shit? Until that night, she’d almost forgotten how good sex could be. And now she wished she hadn’t had the reminder. She slid down so the back of her head was submerged under the water. With the sounds of the radio dulled, a conversation she’d had with Kate over an Indian takeaway floated back into her mind.

‘I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on finding a man anyway,’ Kate had said, as she piled up the foil trays. ‘You’ve survived without one for long enough.’

‘Sex. That’s why. A bit of physical contact. Someone to talk to on a long dark winter’s night. Someone to put out the bins. It’s all right for you, cocooned in marital bliss with it all on tap.’

‘Seems to me the only good thing about sex at our age is that once you’ve done it you know you don’t have to do it again for at least another week, or even a fortnight if you’re lucky.’ Kate stabbed at the last bit of chicken korma with a fork, before taking the containers over to the retro flip-top pedal bin.

‘Speak for your own libido. Mine feels as if it’s been in cold storage since Colin left. I’ve spent all my time throwing myself at my work unless I was trying to be a decent mum to Ben. Now I’ve decided to throw myself at a man instead. I’ve just got to find one.’

Why was it that married women really didn’t get what it was like to be single at this age? Although they moaned about their partners and pretended to envy the single, even the celibate, state, she knew they, Kate included, would never embrace it any better than she did. Yes, she had the freedom to do exactly what she wanted when she wanted, but there were also times when the loneliness could be overwhelming. At home alone on a Friday night when smug couples were candle-lit dining with each other, when young singles were out pubbing, clubbing or smooching in the cinema, ‘alone’ was what she was. Ben had his own life now and was guaranteed to have skedaddled to a friend’s house or a party as soon as humanly possible. She didn’t dwell on the possibilities too hard. Scrambled eggs, a bottle of wine and a DVD were all well and good in their place, but on a regular basis, they lost something of their charm. And, however well she entertained herself, there was always an empty space beside her on the sofa. Most weekends she kept herself busy, even if only with the piles of reading she had from work, but some she spent huddled in a self-pitying heap beneath the duvet. What she’d said to Kate was right. This had to stop. She was only at the half-way point in her life: it was time to pick herself up and find the partner of choice. She hadn’t yet lost all faith in Let’s Have Lunch, so bring on the next four dates.

Dates? Christ! She had one with Mark this evening. ‘Eight. Don’t be late,’ he’d said. And that was exactly what she was going to be. Very.

Like a whale rising from the ocean, she surfaced with a huge splash, soaking the bathmat and dousing the three scented candles. How could she have forgotten? Cursing under her breath, she climbed out, wrapped a towel around her, mopped the floor with another and tore down the corridor to her bedroom. With the hair-dryer in one hand and her phone in the other, she did her hair and ordered a cab. She took a look in the mirror, then dashed back to the bathroom for some styling mousse and her hairbrush, which she found muddled up in Ben’s things. Still, the fact that he brushed his hair at all was something to be thankful for, never mind what he did it with.

When she heard the hoot outside, she was almost ready, ramming her feet into the nearby fake leopardskin pumps, grabbing the thin cream jacket from the end of the bed and running downstairs as she transferred the contents of her office bag into her evening bag. Her only other bag, in fact. Her hair and lipstick could be remedied in the back of the cab.

Her heartbeat had slowed by the time they pulled up outside the bar, which was tucked away behind Regent Street. Outside, the pavement pulsed with people. Window ledges were littered with empty bottles and glasses, the street with cigarette butts. She pushed her way through the open doors into the dimly lit interior. Huge ceiling fans whirred lazily while the combination of voices and music provided a busy background hum. Edging her way past the mahogany bar, which was shoulder deep with braying cocktail drinkers, she eventually spotted Mark sitting in the quietest corner by the restaurant section, partially hidden behind a potted palm. Opposite him was an enormous wall clock, so he must be all too aware that she was nearly forty minutes late. On the table was an empty glass and a forlorn neon pink gerbera that was winning its right to droop, despite the supporting wire wound about its stem.

‘I am so sorry.’ Bea hurried up to him. ‘I’ve had a helluva day and I had to rush home first to drop some things off, then I came straight here.’ She hoped he wouldn’t notice how newly bathed she was.

Mark looked at her, clearly relieved. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘My God. I would never stand someone up. Never. Let me get you a drink.’ She began to rummage in her bag for her purse. ‘I’d have phoned you, but you didn’t give me your card.’ Despite being touched by his response to her arrival, she decided to pass the buck. It worked.

‘I’m afraid I don’t really have much time.’ He sounded apologetic, as if it was his fault she was late. ‘My ex has just phoned. She’s had a major row with my youngest daughter and is insisting that I come and take her for the weekend.’

‘Heavens. How old did you say she was?’ Surely his children were old enough to look after themselves.

‘Thirteen going on twenty-three.’

‘Then you’ll need a drink first. Hang on.’ Bea negotiated the crush at the bar to return with two small glasses of Pinot Grigio and a bowl of nuts. ‘What happened?’ Any story of another mother’s difficulties, however small, was usually music to her ears. Being part of the same sisterhood meant she relished any confirmation that her inadequacies on the parenting front were not unique.

‘The usual. Alison, my wife – sorry, ex-wife – has a short fuse and Bella knows how to light it. She announced she was going to a party but when Alison called the parents of the party-giver to ask if Bel could stay the night – guess what?’

‘No party!’ Bea had been there.

‘In one. So now they’re never speaking to one another again. And I’ve got to tube out to Chiswick to persuade her to come back to my flat with me.’ He sat back and sipped his drink, then let his shoulders fall and his eyes close as if wishing he could shrug off his warring women.

‘Do you have to? Can’t it wait till tomorrow?’ Bea was not asking for herself. He looked tired. Even in the dim lighting, he gave off an aura of weariness and she could make out the shadows under his eyes.

‘No. Really not.’ He sighed. ‘If I put it off, Alison won’t speak to me either, which would make seeing the girls that much harder. I only see them at weekends and then only if Alison hasn’t organised something else for them. Which she often does.’ His wistful expression gave way to something more determined as he looked at Bea. ‘But you don’t want to hear all this.’

In a way he was right, she didn’t. Yet at the same time she found she did. She had never given a serious thought to what it must be like to be at the losing end of the custody battle. Had Colin felt any of Mark’s frustration those times she’d insisted on him seeing Ben when she was reaching the end of her tether? Not that she’d cared about that at the time. Dealing with teenagers alone was hard, especially if your ex was only an angry tube ride away. She used to imagine Colin out enjoying himself while she was imprisoned alone with Ben. But seeing Mark in this state made her think perhaps things weren’t so black and white.

‘No, I do,’ she said, and meant it.

‘I vowed I wouldn’t bore any of my dates into the ground with my personal life. So that’s enough.’ His smile seemed more attractive than she remembered from their first meeting. His teeth weren’t that uneven. ‘You sound as if you understand, though.’

‘Oh, I do. More than you know.’

‘That makes me want to find out more but I really am going to have to go. I’m sorry.’

‘No, no. I shouldn’t have been so late. It’s my fault. You go, and I’ll finish my drink.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive. I’ve always got a book with me.’

‘Then could we try again next week?’

‘Yes. I’d like that.’ To her surprise, Bea realised she meant that too.

A book! As she watched him weave his way into the night, Bea dug into her bag for her regular Friday-night companion. She signalled the waiter to order a salad and another glass of wine. How stupid she felt, always moaning about the lack of a man in her life and then, when she’d had the chance to do something about it, she’d blown it by not turning up on time. But the opportunity hadn’t been entirely wasted. He might not be the most attractive man she’d met so far but, on a second outing, he just might be one of the nicest. Something that her other recent date certainly was not. Perhaps she shouldn’t underestimate that.