by Rachael Blok
Hanging his head in shame, even now, Maarten sounds contrite. ‘Sorry, Marieke. I’m still sorry.’
‘My light fittings,’ she says, ‘my artwork, my tiles, the grouting – that’s the word in English? Everywhere. And while it missed most of his clothes, it was in his hair, all through his hair. Raw egg and cognac.’
The group laugh, pleased to be laughing, delighted that the story is genuinely funny, and Maarten is pink.
Through her laughter, Lois reads his face, reads the whole story.
Interesting, she thinks. I never would have thought it.
Aksel stands on the outskirts of the group, drinking. His face is blank, but he looks dangerous. He always looks dangerous.
Lois feels a flash of fear for all of them.
36
MAARTEN
‘It’s time for the drinks,’ Lois says to Maarten. ‘I’ll go and bring them out.’
‘Let me help. I’m serious. I’m the one who has sent all your staff away.’
Smiling at Marieke, he heads inside. The rest of that night is vivid to him. He’d stayed behind to help clear up. The kitchen had been covered with egg; the floor had been hard. She’d washed his hair in the shower. He’d been so young. That’s when it had begun. Their relationship had only lasted three months, but it had been intense, real. And the end had been abrupt. Her running after him in the dark, the night soaked through. And now Aksel could use this knowledge to end his career.
He looks at Aksel, whose gaze must feel his. They make eye contact. Aksel lifts his chin a little, a gesture of… something. Maarten doesn’t know what. His entire future sits in another man’s hands.
*
The kitchen is quiet as they enter, and cocktail glasses sit ready. Names of all the guests have been hand-painted on the glasses, with Halloween faces, the glass paint catching the light of the sun, dappling the walls.
Maarten looks through the huge window, down across the lawn. The helicopter waits on the flat grass.
Pumpkins line the granite worktops, some missing their faces, some with eyes peering through the orange pulp; eyelash strands of pale flesh fall in the gaps that haven’t been finished. The smell is sweet.
‘Please don’t tell me you’ll have to finish these on your own?’ Maarten looks at them in dread.
‘Iqbal and I will. We’ve done most of the work. We’ve decided to stay here and get ready. The staff will be back for dinner, hopefully, and after last night it will be good to have some quiet in the house. A few stolen hours before they all return.’ Lois nods to Iqbal as he enters.
‘Quiet will be good,’ Iqbal says.
Lois pours from a heavy glass bottle, the green almost opaque. ‘We’re out. I’ll go to the library and get another.’
Iqbal lifts the first tray of cocktail glasses. ‘It’s an important weekend for Archipelago. But Lois wouldn’t want to risk Marieke’s safety. We’re not missing the staff too much.’
‘Not just Lois who’s concerned?’ Maarten asks causally.
‘Well, of course, Ebba as well!’ Iqbal laughs. ‘But Ebba is the one driving the company. Lois is excited about it, but Ebba is the one promoting it, pushing it. Lois is the creator. I suppose she’s shy about forcing it on people.’
Ebba enters the kitchen, her voice arriving a beat ahead of her feet, carrying a green bottle. ‘Come to help!’ she calls, tapping in on the stone floor, sweeping up another tray of drinks. ‘Iqbal, thank you, and you too, Maarten. I’ve sent Lois out. She’s looking a bit tired.’ Lifting the tray, she looks out of the window. ‘Thank God the weather is holding,’ she says, half to herself, and then directs her gaze at Maarten. ‘And thanks for making sure nothing else will go wrong.’ Her brow creases. ‘I have no idea what could have happened with the note. I do hope that whichever member of staff brought the letter into the house in the first place confesses quickly. It will be much better for Marieke to be able to dismiss the worry.’
Nodding, Maarten thinks that it will be much easier for everyone else too. He lifts the last tray of drinks to follow Ebba. Iqbal steadies a jug of cocktails on his tray.
‘Let’s go.’ Ebba leads the way. ‘I’ve asked Aksel to lead a toast. Maarten, you must join us!’
Almost at the open doors, Maarten’s phone rings, and he puts the tray down. ‘Adrika?’
‘Nothing yet. The checks have all come back clear. There’s nothing on any of the files. The catering company have offered to send in workers that are booked on a different job, and swap the staff, so that if there is anything pre-planned, it will shake things up. I think it’s a good idea, sir. What do you reckon? We’re almost done with the statements.’
‘Yes, do that. But ask them to work on a minimum staff and make sure you run the checks on them too. Also, meet them. Can they turn it round in three hours?’
‘They said that’s fine. They have a wedding just up the road and it’s just a question of swapping the staff and briefing them. I’ve already started checks to make it easier. I think we could be ready to bring everyone back in around four hours?’
‘Good, that’s a relief. The super will be pleased.’ Maarten thinks that the party will not quite have returned then. And catering have agreed to prepare off site. It should go smoothly.
Looking outside, Ebba is chatting to the group. Maarten thanks Adrika, picks up the tray.
A twist in the air, the smell of rain, but the sun is winning.
‘A toast,’ Aksel is saying, ‘to the real star of the show. The tech. We have a brilliant game about to launch on a new platform. Archipelago have secured the rights to the next big studio superhero gaming merchandise, and KnowLimits is already taking over the teen market. The parents’ choice for safety, the teens’ for the games. And all of this in the name of humanity. People Before Profits! I feel like I’m saving the world today!’
Everyone laughs. The drinks are handed out and as Aksel lifts his glass, the base of the stem breaks, falling to the floor and shattering. Ebba holds up her hands. ‘Hang on, toastmaster!’
In the process of handing Marieke’s drink to her, she instead passes it to Aksel, saying to Marieke, ‘I’ll give you another. He’s in full flow so let’s not stop him.’
There is laughter, and Ebba lifts the last drink from the tray for Marieke as Aksel raises the glass again. ‘To Archipelago, and its brave new world!’
They drink. Maarten smiles, holding his glass. He’s on duty, and he notices Lois holds hers still too.
Chatter breaks out and a pilot appears, coming up the steps, led by Iqbal.
‘Almost take-off time, ladies and gentlemen! I’m here to give you a quick briefing.’
‘Another photo!’ Marieke calls. ‘We need one with the pilot as well. Quick!’
The group assembles.
‘I’ll take it,’ offers Maarten, holding out his hand to Marieke for her phone.
‘On three, we say Archipelago,’ Marieke says.
Maarten lifts the phone, looking at the screen. They’re all in, although the pilot is slightly out on the left. The nine of them, and the pilot, ready for take-off, as the deal is ready to fly.
Filip and Sophie walk to the side, near Maarten, as everyone claps once the photo is done. ‘I’m not coming,’ she says to him and Filip sounds confused as he replies, ‘But why? Have I upset you? I’m sorry, I was drunk last night and I had the meeting this morning.’
Maarten tries not to look at them, listening.
‘No, Filip, it’s not that. I just can’t quite face it. Come back to me later? I’m going for a run. Come and find me when you return. Before dinner.’
She steps closer to him, and Maarten turns away, embarrassed at being within earshot.
The pilot is finishing her briefing: ‘The most dangerous part is take-off and landing. I just ask you all to stay sitting down and strapped in, like you would on a plane. This will keep you safe and keep the helicopter balanced.’
‘You want to join?’ Lois asks Maarten. ‘There’s room on board.�
��
‘No!’ Maarten says. ‘But thank you. The staff will be back soon. I think you’re all good for the afternoon. I’ll head back to Liv and I’ll swing by once your press conference is all done, and we’ll do the statements then.’
Thinking of heading back to Liv, Maarten feels relief. He can relax at home. He can explain it all. It will be good to have told the full story. Cathartic, if not without its shame.
37
FILIP
Sophie brushes his fingers and Filip grabs them, squeezing them lightly. It feels like he’s announcing his affection to everyone, despite the briefness of touch. He feels, not sees, Marieke watching him. Exposed and in the wrong. He has promised and let them both down.
He can’t speak to Marieke in front of Sophie. She is back, has come back to him. Whatever has happened, has happened. There has been a shift. He doesn’t want to parade it in front of Marieke.
For some reason this morning, he can hold Sophie’s hand. He can smile at her.
Last night is a blur. He’s not really sure what happened. He remembers crying to Liv at dinner. God, the shame. His toes curl when he thinks of it, his stomach sinking in horror.
He remembers Sophie’s voice. She had sung and he’d been more a fan than a husband. But then it’s always been like that. Maybe that’s the problem. He can’t bridge the distance to the stage – he feels caught in a crowd. Marrying her had only made the gap wider.
Something had happened last night.
He remembers the air cold and the sky dark. He can remember looking upwards: stars, heavens, galaxies. He remembers looking at it all and feeling like a dot in such vastness. But strangely, it hadn’t hurt. Not like it normally did. He thinks again of the ledge. Of hanging, a second from leaving it all behind. Today that scares him. Seems untenable.
He’d definitely been outside. But with Sophie? He thinks so. It’s all a blur. Or rather, it’s stuck like mud. His mind is thick and stupid – he can’t dig out whatever is buried there.
What remains is the feeling that something good happened. He feels steadier than he has in months. The deal is complicated; he doesn’t know what to do about it, but in himself he feels calmer. Like a see-saw tipping the scales and plummeting down the other side. The load had slid. Emotional confusion had transferred itself to work, and in himself, he feels… calm.
Sophie is standing close to him. Her fingers curl round his thumb, lightly. Her perfume is like musk; he can smell the shampoo in her hair. The sun is pale; steel and sapphire – shafts of light fall, like drapes. The coffee in his other hand is hot and steam drifts upwards, vanishing into the air.
Lois is talking to Marieke. Their heads bend close. Others drift into their groups and the talk turns to laughter.
Marieke will not meet his eyes and in many ways he is grateful, because he doesn’t know what to say. Even if he had not intended it, he had indicated a future that he won’t deliver. He had used her – leaned on her. And now she is an onlooker to him discovering the love he thought he had lost.
If Sophie is coming back to him, his world has righted itself. He has been lost to her from the start. It’s time to begin again.
In fact, he thinks, with a clarity that feels new and real, he is the one causing her the pain. Sophie was open this morning, soft. He’d woken and she’d been in his arms. There had been no anger – nothing to fight against. Maybe he should talk to her about his problems, rather than leaving her each time? If he could speak to her, confront it?
Something had happened last night. Something good. Something truthful. He just wishes he knew what it had been.
‘OK?’ Sophie asks, stepping closer still; her breath carries honey, strawberries, tea. ‘You’ll come and find me when you’re back? I’ll be pleased to see you.’
He nods.
Something good.
38
LOIS
‘Ebba, I’m not going to come,’ Lois whispers. ‘Iqbal and I need to get going on the decorations for later.’
‘No problem. You look exhausted,’ Ebba says. ‘We’ll be back for the private press conference. I think it’s 6 p.m. now. Is that enough time?’
Lois thinks. ‘I’ll rearrange for around 7 p.m.?’
‘Christ, that’s late!’ Ebba is edgy. Lois knows she hates any changes. It’s been planned for so long.
‘Maybe, but Filip’s still not released his signatures. Did Iqbal not tell you?’ Lois tries to remember if she’d asked him to. Her brain is working more slowly at the moment. ‘Filip refused. He wants to think about it. He’s asked to do it later today.’
‘Oh my God, Lois, this is a disaster!’ Ebba pales, paper-white.
‘No, I knew you’d think that! It’s OK – I took him outside, showed him the new mindfulness VR stuff. Blew his mind – I knew it would. I told him it was top secret – for his eyes only. Really – I’m sure he’s a safe bet. He just wants to have his moment. I checked again and the investment figures are the same. I don’t really know what he’s angry about. If they’re both paying the same for the shares, what can his beef be? It’s a great deal.’
Ebba leans back against the iron table, her hand reaching for Lois’s arm. ‘I think I’m going to faint. These fucking men. He was fine with the deal until he worried Aksel has a different one. Can’t they just stick with what they’ve agreed? It’s all about winning with them. They care about little else.’
‘Honestly, Ebba. It’s OK, I really think he’ll be ready to speak to the press. Let’s delay the conference until 7 p.m. You go ahead with this afternoon, I’ll stay here with Iqbal. The new staff will arrive at some point. After the press conference, we’ll be ready to eat and celebrate.’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Ebba says. ‘I can’t…’
‘I’ve got this, Ebbs. Really, the tech has got him. We just need to promise him the deal is fair. But the deal is fair, so that part’s easy.’
Ebba sways before her, and Lois holds her arm firmly. ‘Go on. Head down now. I’ll go and get the decorations ready for the party. We will celebrate later. He won’t say no, Ebbs. I know it. I can tell.’
She tries to smile at her sister. Sometimes she forgets that she’s the elder; she’s so used to taking her lead from Ebba. But she can feel the excitement from Filip earlier. It’s still sharp. She knows they’re on to something big.
Aksel steps up, offers Ebba his arm. ‘Let’s go!’ he says.
A wave of premonition sweeps Lois, but she writes it off as nausea. She wants to shout to Ebba, call her back.
Later, Lois will think that this is the last image she has. All of them standing there, Aksel leading the charge.
If she had shouted, told them all to stop – would they? Could she have stopped it all?
39
FILIP
Filip tightens his seat belt. It’s not the helicopter that frightens him – he likes flying – it’s the fact that he doesn’t know what to do next.
For the first time in a while, he’s flailing. When it comes to work, he always knows. Like black and white, he sees things clearly – except now. This indecision is uncharted territory. He feels almost squeamish.
His instinct is usually spot on, and it’s telling him to step right back.
The problem is he wants to do this. For a change, it’s not just a question of money. He loves the product, is excited about it. Loves the concept – he wants to embrace the deal. Yet he feels sticky with it; the corners are darker, grime in places there shouldn’t be.
Aksel, a couple of people behind him climbing in, pauses as he heads down to his seat, up close to the pilot. He looks thoughtful, places his hand on Filip’s shoulder.
‘Let’s chat later. I know you have some concerns. I think it’s time to show you the paperwork. I think we can work through this.’
Thrown, Filip leans back, his head up against the cushioned headrest.
‘Really?’ Can it be that simple?
‘Look, Filip. We both want this to go through. You’ve hea
rd my distribution situation might be different to yours. Why don’t we sit down and thrash it out? I don’t know your details and you don’t know mine. Come on. There’s a future with this company, we both know it. If you’re not happy with my end, and you’re not ready to proceed, then let’s sort it out. We’re both men who make things happen. Let’s make it happen.’
Nodding, Filip’s mind is popping, like bubbles on plastic wrapping. Each tiny stress that he had entered the weekend with seems to be bursting. If the distribution can be sorted, and they’re on an equal footing, then everything they’ve worked so hard for over the past couple of years…
The contract is good, the forecast is excellent, the investment is sound. Of this he is sure. Facts and figures are his comfort zone.
‘OK, Aksel, if you’re ready to properly sit down, then so am I.’
Aksel extends his hand, and Filip takes it. He catches Ebba’s eye and smiles at her. It’s what they all want – success for Archipelago.
Aksel moves up and takes his seat. He touches Ebba on the arm. Filip looks away. He doesn’t want to pry.
The seats run the two sides of the helicopter. Richard is towards the rear, near the door. Aksel and Ebba are up towards the pilot, opposite each other. There are a few empty spaces, meaning they all have a fair bit of room.
Marieke sits diagonally opposite Filip, locking in her seat belt without looking forward: the only pocket of air still trapped in his head, bubbling around.
‘Everyone ready?’ the pilot calls.
The blades are turning, and Sarah looks white. She closes her eyes; Richard leans and puts his hand on hers.
‘Not too late to back out?’ Richard says. ‘I can ask the pilot to let you out? You could just take the car.’
Sarah shakes her head, lips pressed tight and blanched.
‘We’ll be fine!’ Filip shouts, over the swish of the blades, cutting through the air. The six of them are well spaced in their two sets of threes. The seats are thick black leather, soft, new smelling. The buckles are bright, shiny with fresh polish.