‘I didn’t really want her to know that it was me here,’ he admitted. ‘Imagine what Tyler would say?’
‘But now she thinks that you were him.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he assures me. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Really. As soon as she bumps into Tyler again, she’ll realise her mistake.’
I’m doing my very best to rearrange my rumpled clothing. My dress was rucked up almost round my waist and one of my boobs was making a bid for freedom. I stop and look down at him. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I don’t know what made her think it was her husband in the first place. If she’d have come and got a better eyeful, then she’d have realised it was me. We don’t even look similar.
‘I’m not sure she was in a fit state to be thinking rationally.’
‘Probably been hitting the booze like everyone else.’
I give Josh a long, hard stare. ‘Except you.’
‘Can’t afford to lose my licence. The price I have to pay is watching everyone around me get wasted.’
‘Including me?’
‘You’re hardly wasted, Louise.’
But there’s no denying that I’ve had far too much to drink to be thinking straight. ‘This was stupid,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what got into me. I never behave like this. Now look what’s happened.’ I put my head in my hands.
‘Hey.’ Josh sits up. ‘We haven’t done anything wrong. You got a bit tipsy and let a colleague kiss you. That’s all.’ He grins at me. ‘And very nice it was too.’
I smile back when I don’t want to. I want to be cross. Cross with myself. Cross with Josh. Cross with Tyler too.
‘This isn’t me,’ I tell Josh. ‘I have limits, barriers. I’m not the sort of woman who snogs a random man on the sofa.’
His face falls. ‘I didn’t realise I counted as a “random man”.’
Now I’ve pissed him off too. ‘You’re not. Well, you are.’ I let out an exasperated sigh. ‘You know what I mean.’
Josh reaches out and takes my hand. ‘It’s the Christmas party, Louise. The entire point of it is for everyone to get lashed and behave inappropriately with their co-workers. It’s the one time of year that everyone lets their hair down. If you haven’t done that, then you’ve had no fun at all.’
‘I feel as if I was having too much fun,’ I confess as I scuffle round on the rug searching for my shoes, which seem to have disappeared under the sofa.
My mum always used to tell me that if you keep your shoes on and both feet on the floor, then you won’t come to too much harm. I’m beginning to think she was absolutely right. It’s excellent advice that I must pass on to Mia as soon as she hits puberty.
‘I don’t want you to think that this is who I am.’
‘I don’t. I promise you.’ He makes a little gesture that might be crossing his heart.
I’m worried at how far this might have gone if Kirsten Benson hadn’t interrupted us. I hate to admit this, even to myself, but I was quite happy getting all cosy with Josh Wallace. That was foolish of me.
‘I’d hate to become the subject of a water-cooler discussion with Tyler,’ I continue. ‘I know what he’s like. He’s bad enough as it is. I don’t want to be the butt of his sexist jokes.’
‘I hope you know that I’m not like that.’
I turn to him. He’s propped up on the cushions now, attractively tousled and looking for all the world as if he can’t see why I’m making such a fuss.
‘I don’t though, do I?’ I reason. ‘This is the first time we’ve even met properly. We’ve just had passing chit-chat in the office, that’s all. Until tonight we hadn’t even had a proper conversation, and now look what we’ve done.’
He grins at me. There are little dimples in his cheeks which are irresistibly cute. But it’s thinking like that which got me into this situation, and I must stop it at once.
‘We haven’t really done very much though, have we?’
‘I’m the mother of a small child, Josh. I have to be responsible. I barely date, for fear of bringing someone unsuitable into her life.’
‘Not a word of this will pass my lips. Particularly not to Tyler Benson,’ he swears. ‘And I won’t even tell your daughter that you’re a Bad Mother either.’
While he chuckles at my humiliation, I grab a cushion and swat him with it. ‘I am not a bad mother!’
‘Of course you’re not.’ Then he stops smiling and stares at me intently. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Louise. When did you last have a night out? When did you last do something a little bit outrageous?’
I can’t even remember. ‘I think it was July the seventeenth.’
‘Last year?’
‘Two thousand and six.’
‘Then it’s probably time you did it again.’
He takes my hand and squeezes it. In the firelight, his eyes gleam. If you ignore the wild goings-on in the marquee outside, this is a very romantic setting. No wonder my head has been ever so slightly turned.
‘I’m not looking for a quick fling,’ Josh says. ‘That’s not who I am either. I’m a one-woman kind of man.’
‘I don’t know. This has gone too far, too fast.’ I pull my hand away. I don’t want to compromise my position at work. I don’t want to get a reputation. This job is too important to me. If Tyler hears that I’ve been free and easy with Josh, then it might give him ideas too. ‘Let’s just pretend this never happened.’
His face is sad when he says, ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘I do.’ I make sure that my dress and its contents are jiggled back to where they should be. ‘Now I’d better go after Kirsten Benson. I have to explain to her. All I want is to make sure she hasn’t got the wrong end of the stick. I can’t have her thinking you were Tyler.’
So, before Josh can say anything else, I dash out of the library and hurry to find Tyler’s wife to tell her that – much like me – she’s made a terrible mistake.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Tyler was bleeding. Everywhere. While the Less Than Bloody Magnificent Marvo was being revived, his lovely assistant helped Tyler out of the black box, which seemed to have taken on even more coffin-like proportions. His legs were shaking, unsteady, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he wouldn’t soon be lying on the floor next to Marvo.
Across his stomach there was a thin red line which oozed blood. His favourite dinner shirt was shredded. Below that was another cut, underneath his belt, which had sliced through his trousers and boxer shorts. Any lower and his manhood would have been in serious danger. Tyler shuddered at the thought.
The crowd were still whistling and cheering even though there was blood – real blood! Perhaps they thought it was all part of Marvo’s marvellous act. Well, Tyler knew better. And, the very first thing he’d do in the new year would be to sue the arse off the magician for trauma. You always assumed these things were totally foolproof. Not so, it seemed.
One of the half-naked firemen who’d been wandering round all night with Karen from Customer Accounts jumped on to the stage. He threw The Magnificent Marvo over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and unceremoniously carted him away.
No one seemed overly concerned that Tyler was mortally wounded.
‘Do you do first aid?’ he asked Marvo’s assistant.
‘No.’ She looked at Tyler blankly. ‘This has never happened before. There are some serviettes here.’ She handed him a Merry Christmas to One and All napkin.
Tyler dabbed gingerly at his wounds with it.
Heads would roll for this, Tyler thought. He was making a note of the staff who were guffawing most loudly. They would go right to the top of Lance’s SACKED list. Then we’d see who was laughing.
Of both Josh and Louise, there was no sign. He’d hoped that one or other of them might have come to his rescue. Kirsten was still missing too. Typical. She was never around when he needed her support. That was one thing he’d say for Melissa, she was always there for Lance, through thick and thin. If only Kirsten
had been as loyal to him. He punched in her mobile phone number, but it went straight to voicemail. He stabbed in a text instead.
Dying! he wrote. Need urgent medical assistance.
That should bring her running. He wanted her to take him home. It had been a terrible Christmas party. This one certainly wouldn’t go down in the annals of office-party history.
As he couldn’t locate his wife, he called Louise instead. She picked up instantly.
‘Tyler?’
‘Where are you?’ he hissed.
‘Erm …’ Tyler thought she sounded cagey. ‘I’m just in reception.’
‘Did you not see what just happened on stage?’
‘No. I was … er … a bit busy.’
‘Where have you been all night?’ Tyler complained. ‘I’ve hardly seen you.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Louise said. ‘Your voice sounds really shaky. What’s the problem?’
‘The problem is,’ he said, ‘that I’ve been attacked by a madman wielding a chainsaw.’
‘What?’
‘I had an accident with The Magnificent Marvo. Or, more specifically, he had an accident with me.’ Tyler sighed. ‘Look, I need your help. I’ve had a traumatic experience. Meet me in the library in five minutes. I’ll explain it all then.’
Tyler hung up. Louise would know what to do. Not only was she very easy on the eye, she was proving to be an excellent and dedicated assistant. Tucked under his wing, this girl could go a long way in Fossil Oil. She just had to play her cards right.
He headed to the bar. The staff, who were still busy necking Jägerbombs as if they were going out of fashion, self-consciously cleared a path for him.
‘Brandy,’ he said to the barman. ‘Make it a double.’
The man handed it over without a word and Tyler downed it. He slammed the glass back on the bar. The barman raised an eyebrow in question and Tyler nodded. The glass was instantly refilled. That went the same way as the other. Now he was starting to feel better.
Still oozing blood and clutching his trousers to keep them up, he headed off towards reception. At the very least he’d need plasters, or a bandage. A clean shirt wouldn’t go amiss. He knew that Louise would organise something. She’d recently been on a first-aid course, so he’d be in safe hands.
When everyone else deserted him, he knew he could count on her. That meant a lot. Well, her loyalty would be rewarded. He’d liked her the minute he laid eyes on her. There was more than a flicker of attraction there and he was pretty sure it was mutual.
Chapter Thirty
Kirsten didn’t know what to do. Where could she go? Where could she hide? Tyler would come after her, she was sure.
Well, she didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear the honeyed words, the ridiculous explanation that would pour from his mouth. He was so well practised in the profuse apology that it meant nothing any more. She would get out of this place, and now.
This time he’d gone too far. After the last fling, with his assistant Debbie, he’d promised her faithfully that he wouldn’t do this to her again. Well, he had, and she couldn’t stand it any more. The deceit had torn her into little pieces and she was done with him.
It was only blind fury that was stopping the tears from rolling down Kirsten’s cheeks. They hung precipitously balanced on the edge of her eyelashes while she dared them to fall. She felt like she’d been hit in the stomach by a bowling ball, and it had driven the sour taste of that tepid, mass-produced turkey dinner back to her throat.
Heaven knew, she hoped she’d been wrong this time. But she never was. Call it a woman’s intuition if you like. Whatever you called it, her instincts were unfortunately infallible on the Tyler front. She’d known that he was a selfish and unfaithful bastard for years, she just wondered how many more times he would have to prove it to her before she plucked up the courage to leave him for good.
But why that little girl in her Primark dress? She was no different from the last one, and she was certainly no older. Kirsten doubted she was more than mid-twenties. Maybe younger. Beneath all that make-up and the strutting confidence of youth, it was hard to tell. How could she compete with that? She kept herself in good shape, but there was no denying that she was the wrong side of forty. Perhaps it was just that all men approaching middle age needed their menopausal egos massaged by a bimbo in a skirt that barely covered her bottom and whose IQ was never destined to keep pace with her age. But she was being bitchy and, worryingly, this girl looked a cut above that. She was bright and seemed as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
Also Kirsten was one to talk about stupidity. If she was that clever, why did she keep taking Tyler back, making excuses for him and insisting that underneath it all he loved her? Finding out that he’d engineered the downfall of her and Simon’s relationship had been bad enough. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tonight she’d finally woken up to Tyler Benson’s ways. He was one leopard who’d never ever change his spots, and for her own sanity she had to get away from him. His days were not only numbered, they were filed in little boxes, ready to be put away once and for all. She wondered what Simon would think of this. He knew what Tyler was like, probably more accurately than she did. Instinctively her fingernails curled into the palms of her hands as she approached the reception desk, and she forced herself not to cry. Not yet. When she was at home and alone and no one could see her, then she would cry.
‘Is my taxi here yet?’ she asked at the desk.
The girl frowned. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ll ring them again for you. They should have been here by now. The snow’s getting worse though. I wonder if they’re able to drive up the hill to the manor. Let me get on to it for you.’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Kirsten said.
‘It’s really very cold,’ the receptionist warned.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Kirsten couldn’t feel anything. If she sat out there and froze into a solid block of ice she couldn’t have cared less. Her marriage was over and she wondered whether she’d ever have the capacity to feel again.
Leaving the girl to phone the cab company, she walked out of the front door and left the cloying warmth of Wadestone Manor. The night was very snowy now and it was settling on the ground. An inch or more must have fallen since she’d been out in the posh potting shed with Simon. The temperature was hovering around the wrong side of freezing and she felt the harsh elements of the crisp winter night trying to invade her inadequately clad body.
Kirsten wasn’t sure if she was afraid. There was a tense numbness in her whole body, but she was almost certain it wasn’t fear. There might even have been a sense of release, of closure somewhere in there. Whatever she felt, she knew there could be no looking back, no hesitation, no regrets. She would only go forward from now on, and that thought created a tiny spot of lightness in her heart.
Pulling her coat around her, she went to sit on the steps at the front of the house. As she looked round, she noticed a relatively sheltered spot in the lee of a stone pillar on the portico and headed towards it. It was in shadow, away from the revealing glare of the Hollywood-style lighting, and Kirsten huddled inside it, pulling her coat tightly around her. The night air was frosty and clear and it was as instantly sobering as being plunged into a bath full of iced water. All her senses felt sharpened, alive. The piercing cold penetrated Kirsten’s lungs as she breathed in and out, but her breath was pleasingly steady, controlled. Tiny white vaporous clouds ballooned in front of her as she exhaled. She stared out at the snowy wonderland scene, the towering Christmas trees that flanked the house, the lights strung in the trees, and it soothed her. Soon it would be Christmas, and who knew what that would bring?
Her bottom was cold on the stone step and she regretted not wearing thermal underwear. But then it wasn’t every day one went to a Christmas party and ended up wandering round outside in sub-zero temperatures instead. Even a pair of big pants from Marks & Spencer would have offered more protection than what she h
ad on. Why was it that she persisted in wearing flimsy silk and lace underwear after ten years of marriage? Even if they didn’t find them a huge turn-on, didn’t most men eventually get used to their wives wearing practical underwear and tights?
Tyler never would. He was definitely a silk-and-stockings man. Some days she longed to slob around in a tatty tracksuit and sagging knickers whose elastic had gone through being washed too many times. But she had at least tried to bring his wandering gaze back to rest on her occasionally. When, briefly, it did, she hadn’t wanted to be caught in a sports bra and big comfortable knickers that didn’t match.
Would the lure of expensive frillies have ever been enough to keep him coming back over the years? What would have happened when it wasn’t only the elastic that had sagged but the contents inside? Sometimes she’d felt she could prance round naked with a rose between her teeth and Tyler wouldn’t have noticed. It was never going to be reliable as a long-term strategy for keeping one’s husband, the Agent Provocateur approach to marital bliss, Kirsten concluded miserably. She’d known it in her heart all along and now she’d been proved right.
Why couldn’t she be pink-faced and apple-cheeked like the women on all of those reality TV shows, who could keep their husbands through their culinary expertise and their ability to wave Cif Cream Cleaner like a magic wand? She’d tried everything. The way to Tyler’s heart was not through his stomach, it wasn’t even through his genitals. And now she’d run out of vital organs to try. She was beginning to wonder why she had ever made so much effort in the first place, as she doubted whether her husband even had a heart.
Now she’d be free of him and could wear whatever pants she liked. It was a small step towards independence, all things considered, but the thought cheered her greatly.
She stared at the stars, shimmering steadfastly in the blackness of the night. That was what Simon was. A bright pinprick of light in the darkness of her life. And now he’d dropped back so, so casually on to the scene. It was as if he’d never been away. Her heart seemed to have taken up exactly where it had left off a decade ago.