Nearly forgetting that she was an intruder here, Nadia almost took the bills upstairs for Toby. Instead, she left the pile as she’d found it and climbed the stairs empty-handed. In the cramped office, she searched Toby’s desk and rifled through the drawers. The more she tidily ransacked her own home, the more terrible she felt about having to do this in order to quell her doubts about her husband’s sincerity when he told her that he was no longer in the grip of this awful gambling disease that had blighted their marriage. If it wasn’t for Chantal’s selfless generosity, they’d now be facing bankruptcy, homelessness and who knows what else.
She logged on to Toby’s computer. Thankfully, he hadn’t changed his password. Was that a good sign? Did it mean that he no longer had anything to hide from her? She still had to look. Scanning Toby’s internet history files on the computer, she could see no evidence of the colourful names that caused otherwise sane human beings to part with their hard-earned cash. There was no Virtual Vegas or Cash Casino or Mansion of Millions or any of the other hundreds of sites that he’d been so keen on visiting. It wasn’t that he was alone. There was an online gambling epidemic across the globe. These days it was so easy to be ensnared by the promise of huge riches. There was none of the stigma of sleazy gaming clubs, none of the effort of evading the family to visit a casino, no need for late-night poker games – all of your gambling could be done on a credit card and at the click of a mouse. It was a secret, nasty and potentially destructive pastime that could be carried out in the comfort of your own home. Practically every day in the national newspapers there was a story of someone who’d lost thousands of pounds on these treacherous sites. She sincerely hoped that her husband had managed to break free of his demons.
The USA was currently trying to ban its citizens from online gambling. Which on the surface seemed like a great idea, but Nadia wondered how that would succeed. Wouldn’t it simply serve to drive it further underground? Would all the people who were currently addicted to the flashing lights and empty promises simply shrug their shoulders and give up? She didn’t think so.
Logging off, Nadia went through to their bedroom. Now she was losing heart for her miserable task. This was unfair on Toby. If he said he’d cleaned up his act then she ought to believe him, otherwise there was no future for them. A cursory search of the drawers in the bedside table was also fruitless. As far as she could tell, there was no evidence in the house to show that Toby was still gambling. Was that because he really had quit? Or was it because he’d become more deceitful?
Nadia had left the house and scurried to meet up with Lewis and Autumn in the park. Now her son was currently working himself into a frenzy of excitement as a kind elderly lady had given him a stale crust of bread to throw for the shivering ducks. It was clear that her son had been perfectly happy during her absence and it made Nadia realise how accepting Lewis was to all the changes that were happening in his life. Children were extraordinarily resilient and it made her glow with pride when her son smiled across at her. She and Autumn sat on a bench overlooking the lake watching her son play happily.
‘How did it go?’ Autumn wanted to know.
‘Fine,’ Nadia replied. ‘I think.’ Then she smiled weakly at Autumn. ‘There was nothing in the house to suggest that Toby’s still gambling. Maybe he’s managed to get it under control.’
‘That’s good,’ Autumn said.
Nadia folded her arms across her chest and stared across the lake. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Are you going to go back to him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nadia answered honestly. She turned to her friend. ‘What do you think I should do?’
Autumn slipped her arm round her shoulders and smiled at her. ‘I think perhaps, for Lewis’s sake, that you should give him the benefit of the doubt.’
Nadia let out a sigh which was visible in the cold air. She looked across at her son, running up and down like a mad thing, scattering the quacking ducks. Pursing her lips, she said, ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking too.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Autumn was watching two of her favourite clients who were currently working side-by-side on differing projects. Fraser, a teenage heroin addict and occasional dealer, had been coming to the Centre for two years, as had Tasmin who had a lot in common with him in terms of drug usage, but little in terms of talent with stained glass and mosaics.
Seeing Fraser flirting tirelessly, and unsuccessfully, with the disdainful object of his affections was making her smile. Tasmin had attitude to spare, and no callow youth, however streetwise, was going to persuade her to drop that. They say that love is blind and, in Fraser’s case, that must certainly be true. There was no doubt that Tasmin was a pretty little thing, but she managed to disguise it quite well with heavy layers of Goth clothing, dyed black hair and a thick coating of eyeliner. They’d make an oddly matched pair – if Fraser ever managed to persuade Tasmin to go out with him – but Autumn hoped that they would one day make a couple.
Fraser was ham-fisted and his work with stained glass had more to do with enthusiasm than skill. Sometimes she wondered why he’d kept coming back for so long; most of their clients were of a much more itinerant nature, sometimes attending just one lesson, never to be seen again. Perhaps this was the only place where Fraser could be certain of kindness and respect. Perhaps it was simply to see his future girlfriend. Whatever it was, Autumn was certain that it wasn’t his love of arts and crafts.
Tasmin, however, was a different kettle of fish. She was a budding artist in the making. Eschewing the usual suncatchers or basic candleholders, the girl had very quickly shown that she had an exceptional eye for colour and style. Clinging to the only thing that she’d ever been praised for in a short life that had been full of degradation and destruction, Tasmin had progressed to making highly commercial pieces of jewellery from kiln glass, bound with delicate silver wires. When the budget from the KICK IT! programme threatened to dry up, Autumn often funded the glass and other materials for the kids to continue their projects out of her own pocket. She would love to do more for these two, to try to make sure that they ended up in a safe, secure environment and weren’t tempted back to a life of drugs and crime simply because no one cared enough about them.
‘That looks great, Tasmin,’ she said, always careful to praise the girl. A large glass pendant with a Japanese design lay on the workbench while Tasmin meticulously fashioned a decorative holder from threads of silver.
There was a tentative knock on the workshop door and, as she moved towards it, her brother Richard poked his head inside. Instantly, her heart sank. He was the last person she’d expected to see here, and it must mean that he was in trouble once again.
‘Rich,’ she said. ‘What’s happened now?’
As she moved closer to him she could see what the trouble was. He touched the livid bruise on his cheek gingerly. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose and his lip was swollen. ‘Slight skirmish,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Autumn steered them both away from the students so that they could talk more freely. ‘Does this mean that the people you were running away from have caught up with you?’
Richard shook his head. ‘I wasn’t running away, sis. I was merely absenting myself from the scene for a short period.’
Running away couched in another language, Autumn thought with a sigh.
‘I came to ask a favour,’ Richard said. There was always a catch with her brother. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d paid her a purely social visit. ‘Any chance in taking up my old bedroom in your flat? Until I get on my feet again.’
Until he’d made enough money from drugs to buy his own place, more likely.
‘Are you still with Mummy and Daddy?’
‘Yes.’ Richard toyed with a shard of glass from the bench. She wanted to warn him not to cut himself, but had to remind herself that he should be more than aware of the dangers of broken glass. ‘But I can’t stay there,’ he said. ‘They’re killi
ng me.’
‘No quicker than your drugs habit is,’ she retorted.
‘I can’t move without them asking where I’m going,’ he complained. ‘At my age. Can you believe it? They treat me as if I’m fifteen.’
‘Perhaps it would help if you didn’t behave as if you were,’ she suggested.
Her comment fell on deaf ears. ‘Can I move my stuff in tonight?’
Autumn felt torn. She’d always been the one to help Richard. Who else could he turn to? He might be infuriating, but he was her brother. Didn’t she owe it to him?
Her train of thought was interrupted by Addison coming into the room. As they were at work and there were students present – who were currently taking more interest in her conversation than their creations – he didn’t kiss her, but they exchanged a glance that said they would make up for that shortfall later. The look didn’t go unnoticed by her brother and his face darkened.
‘Richard,’ Addison said warmly. ‘How’s it hanging?’ He held out his hand.
Her brother, somewhat reluctantly, took it.
‘What happened to the face?’
‘A misunderstanding,’ Richard said tightly.
‘Autumn seems to think you’re running with some heavy people.’
Richard glared at her. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘We can help you,’ Addison said gently. ‘You don’t have to do this alone.’
‘I’m not one of your sink-estate druggies,’ Rich scoffed. ‘Do you think I’m going to come and make pretty things with glass to save my soul?’
‘There are other things we can do,’ Addison continued calmly. ‘Other programmes.’
‘Keep your charity for these no-hopers.’ He flicked a thumb in the direction of Fraser and Tasmin. Autumn wanted to curl up and die at her brother’s bad manners. ‘I’ll see you later, Autumn,’ he said, and went to stride out of the door.
Her heart shot to her mouth and, as he grabbed the handle, a voice from somewhere inside her said, ‘No.’
Richard spun round.
‘You can’t stay with me,’ she continued. There was no way that she wanted to go back to sleepless nights, worrying where her brother was or, when he did eventually turn up, wondering who he was going to bring back to the apartment. ‘It’s too stressful for me.’
Her brother glared at her boyfriend. ‘I know what this is about,’ he said. ‘You’re choosing him over me.’
‘That’s not true at all, Richard,’ she said. ‘What I’m doing is finally giving you back responsibility for your own life.’ She thought back to what Addison had said about her own behaviour facilitating her brother’s addiction, and prayed that this was the right thing to do. This was the first time that she’d ever said no to Richard and it didn’t sit comfortably with her. The words rushed out now that she’d started. ‘I can’t always be there to pick up the pieces for you.’
Richard’s face turned thunderous. ‘Right,’ he said crisply. ‘I know exactly where I stand.’ He stormed out of the door and slammed it forcefully behind him. The glass shattered and crashed to the floor.
All eyes in the workroom went to the pile of fallout.
Autumn tried a tired smile. ‘Looks like I’m not going to pick up the pieces for Richard by picking up these pieces.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Addison said kindly. ‘Go to the staff room and I’ll join you in a minute. Put the kettle on. You look like you could do with a cup of tea.’
And some recuperative chocolate, Autumn thought.
‘We’ll help, mate.’ Fraser came forward to join Addison in clearing away the broken glass.
‘Thank you,’ Autumn said tearfully.
Addison took her hand. ‘Richard will be all right, you know.’ His voice was sure, comforting. ‘You did the right thing.’
‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I can only hope so.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
I have to look for another job. As soon as I’ve got a minute to spare then I’m going to phone up the agency and ask them to move me as soon as possible. Which could be tricky as I think I’ve been banned from working in a large range of offices throughout London due to my track record as a less than perfect employee.
Targa is, currently, not a healthy place to work. My sometime yoga teacher – Persephone – would tell me that the bad vibes will be messing with my karma or something, and I’m sure she’d be right. You could cut the atmosphere in here with a knife. My stomach is ragged with nerves. I would have to stand on my head for a very long time to counteract the bad effects if Persephone had her way.
Crush has been whisking past my desk all morning at a furious pace, failing to make eye-contact and generally looking as if he’d like to murder me in a slow and very horrible way. I really want to talk to him about what happened last night, but he’s clearly not ready yet to open the channels of communication, so I’m sitting here feeling pathetically useless.
To protect myself from his harmful death-ray glances and to pass a certain amount of time, I’ve constructed a wall between me and the rest of the office with Mars Bars, Snickers and Double Deckers. They let me have two boxes of each at bulk discount price in the canteen here when they heard of my plight. If I hunker down low to my desk, I can remain completely shielded behind my barricade. All I have to do is resist the temptation to eat my way through it. Mmm. Though surely my safety wouldn’t be too compromised if one measly Mars Bar went missing? I’m sure it would actually help to strengthen my immune system. A bar of chocolate has more protein than a banana and that has to be good, right? Perhaps some protein would help to build up my courage to tackle Crush head on.
I’m just starting to rip the wrapper off one when I see that Aiden Holby is heading my way. His face is set with grim determination and a black frown is settled on his brow. It’s supposed to make him look fierce, but all it does is make him look cute. At this moment, I think I love him more than ever. I slip the chocolate surreptitiously into my desk drawer and try to pretend that I’m working – an art that I have practised extensively and have still failed to master.
Crush stops in front of my desk. His pose is Alpha male aggressive.
‘Hi,’ I say meekly.
With one sweep of his arm, Crush knocks my carefully constructed chocolate wall to the floor. So, this is war.
‘Do you think you could prepare these figures for me, Ms Lombard?’ Ms Lombard? I think that’s taking it a bit far.
‘Yes, Mr Holby,’ I reply. ‘When would you like them for?’
‘I need them for the sales meeting this afternoon.’
‘I’ll start them immediately. Once I’ve picked up all my chocolate off the floor.’
I think I see him flush a bit. But only a little bit.
‘You can have one of my Mars Bars,’ I tell him with an uncertain smile. ‘If you like.’
Crush hesitates slightly.
‘As a peace offering,’ I say.
He straightens up. ‘No, thank you.’ Even the offer of a Mars Bar can’t break the ice here. That’s bad.
‘Aiden . . .’ I say softly.
‘Lucy,’ he interjects. ‘I think it would be better for everyone concerned if you asked your agency to find you another job.’
‘One where you don’t have to breathe the same oxygen as me?’
‘Preferably.’
‘I still love you,’ I tell him, swallowing the lump that comes to my throat. ‘But if you think it’s best that I go, then I will.’
‘Fine.’ He goes to turn on his heel.
‘But I just want to say one other thing.’
I see him weaken for a moment and then he says, ‘I think we’ve said enough.’ And he walks away from my desk.
‘Loving someone doesn’t mean that you only care for them when you feel like it,’ I shout after him. ‘It means that you forgive them when they mess up.’
His stride breaks and, for a brief moment, he stops and my heart has a little flutter of hope. But then, without looking back, he continues
towards his office.
‘Bugger,’ I mutter to myself. Then I notice that everyone in the department has stopped working and is staring at me. ‘What?’ I shout.
People cower at their desks.
‘Just so that you know,’ I bellow across the room, ‘I’ve cocked everything up again. Does anyone want to make an issue of it?’
Heads are lowered to paperwork and computer screens. With a sigh, I start the onerous task of picking up the pieces of my scattered chocolate wall which might as well be a metaphor for my life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Phoning the agency was a complete waste of time. They told me that they have no other jobs for me, but I’m sure they were lying. Perhaps businesses have one of those alerts on me like they do in pubs to prevent undesirables. A Lucy Lombard Alert. All the people whose businesses I’ve trashed in the past, they’ve all phoned each other to put my name on a blacklist somewhere. I’m sure of it.
I take the Tube home, heavy of heart, feeling that I’m trapped for ever at Targa like some unfortunate genie in a bottle, unable to escape unless someone gives me a kindly rub. If anyone has inspiration about what I should do with my life, I wish they’d tell me.
It’s raining and it’s miserable. My ropey old umbrella makes a pitiful shelter and keeps threatening to blow inside out. The greyness of my life is reflected perfectly by the weather. To top it all, Marcus is leaning against the wall in the street opposite my flat when I get home. He doesn’t have an umbrella and he’s very wet. My ex-fiancé has been stationed out there every night since our Christmas close encounter of the carnal kind and since I’ve been refusing to answer his phone calls. As he sees me, he raises his hand in a wave and starts to cross the road. ‘Lucy,’ he calls out. But the traffic thwarts his plan to reach me and I dart inside my front door.
When I’m inside, I shake the rain off my coat and throw my sodden umbrella to the floor. Sneaking up to the window, I check outside and, sure enough, Marcus has returned to his station and is still leaning against the wall. I watch him for a moment, shivering against the cold and I reluctantly admire his staying power. Would Crush have stood out there in the pouring rain for me night after night? I don’t know, if you want the truth.
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