Next year would be different. She would grab control of her life back and do things for herself. She’d give Tyler some ultimatums and, hopefully, turn their relationship around. She had so much to be thankful for and she hated feeling so disenfranchised and discontent. It had to stop.
‘Hello, Mrs Benson.’
Jolted from her musing, Kirsten turned to the woman standing next to her. It was the one Tyler had been ogling. She was bright-eyed and beautiful. Her hair, piled high in a trendy updo, was glossy, her skin flawless, her body ripe with the seductive promise of a younger woman. What was she? Late twenties? Certainly the right side of thirty. Much younger than Kirsten, anyway. Just looking at this fresh-faced girl made her feel every one of her forty-two years. How she wished she could be that age again, with the whole of her life before her. What different choices would she make then?
‘Hi. I’m Louise,’ the girl said, all smiles. ‘Tyler’s new assistant.’
‘Oh.’ Kirsten tried not to stare too hard at her. Of course she was. Tyler would never hinder himself with a plain assistant.
‘I thought I’d come over and introduce myself.’
She was bubbly, keen to please. Her husband would like that too.
So this was Tyler’s new fling. She could see the attraction. Who wouldn’t? In comparison to herself the girl was dewy, gleaming, enthusiastic, full of life. Beside her Kirsten felt like a dried-out old husk. Although Louise’s outfit clearly wasn’t expensive, she looked sophisticated and understated. It made Kirsten feel like a footballer’s wife – overdressed and trying too hard.
‘I bet you’ve been to loads of these Fossil Oil dos,’ Louise continued.
‘Many, many.’ Too many. Far, far too many.
The last time she’d caught Tyler having an affair with his assistant – Debbie – it had been because someone had kindly sent her an anonymous letter to inform her of it. It hadn’t been a surprise. In fact, she’d half-wondered whether it might have been Debbie herself who sent it, to try to break up their marriage, galvanise Tyler into leaving her or something stupid like that. Perhaps that’s what he’d promised to do; Kirsten wouldn’t put it past him. Whatever the plan, it had nearly succeeded. She’d been on the verge of walking out. Only a lot of begging from Tyler and a crippling attack of insecurity had made her relent. If she left him, where would she go? She was the wrong side of forty with no job, no money, no home of her own. She was utterly dependent on Tyler. And she hated it.
When it had all blown up Debbie had been unceremoniously sacked. Tyler was too valuable for Fossil Oil to lose. Pretty secretaries, it seemed, were ten a penny. Now, merely a few months down the line, it was clear that Tyler was playing away again. So much for all his heartfelt pledges, his sweet-tongued promises that he’d change his spots. She should have known better.
There are things that men don’t notice but women do. With Tyler there were too many late-night showers when he came home, the scent of another woman on his shirts, the shifty phone calls. He deleted every text that he received or sent, a sure sign of someone with something to hide. She wondered how many of the staff here knew about this latest tryst. How many of them were looking at her now over the rims of their champagne flutes with pity? How many were sniggering behind their hands?
There were rumours about Lance too being a womaniser, and his heavy drinking was legendary. Perhaps it was a requirement for all Fossil executives. She looked at Melissa and saw her own future writ large. It wasn’t a vision she particularly wanted.
‘I’m a novice.’ Louise gave an anxious laugh and Kirsten’s attention snapped back to her. ‘I’m really nervous. My knees haven’t stopped knocking yet.’
She should offer her some comfort, a word of advice, but Kirsten could find nothing to give. She had to concentrate to keep a picture of Louise and Tyler entwined together out of her mind. Where did they meet? A hotel? Her house? In the stationery cupboard at work? On the boardroom table? Kirsten wouldn’t put it past Tyler. She knew only too well that he liked to take risks.
Kirsten had hoped that this time she might make a friend of Tyler’s personal assistant rather than an enemy. Some of the other corporate wives seemed to manage it, but she never had. Perhaps that was because so many of them saw her as a love rival rather than the boss’s wife. Sadly, it looked as if it was to be no different this time.
‘My daughter, Mia, would love it here,’ Louise added. ‘She’s only four and very impressionable.’ The girl gazed round, eyes wide with awe. It looked as if she too was easily impressed. ‘Do you have children?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Kirsten never quite knew how to answer that question. ‘I don’t.’
There was a difficult pause between them.
‘Well.’ Tyler’s assistant was uncertain now. ‘No doubt we’ll see each other at these things in future.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ Kirsten said tightly.
It was an awkward moment. Kirsten didn’t know what to say to her. It was as if she was looking at herself ten years ago. She wanted to ask this pretty woman if she loved Tyler, she wanted to warn her against him, tell her that his kind of love was selfish, destructive and manipulative. That she would end up like her, insecure, clingy, jealous. Yet her cruel streak wanted Louise to find that out for herself. She should tell her that Tyler would use her for a short while and then let her go, as he’d done with so many before.
Kirsten wasn’t one for confrontation though. Now she didn’t even question Tyler about his comings and goings. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, was the theory. And yet it did. Of course it did. Over the years she’d had to batten down her emotions to cope. But it had made her feel dead inside. Empty.
‘I’d better go in for dinner,’ Louise said, slightly awkward now. ‘Are you coming?’
‘In a moment.’
Kirsten felt churlish, as if she was the one in the wrong here. She had to admire Louise for her brazen front. The girl seemed to be genuinely trying to be nice, but that didn’t make up for the fact that she was sleeping with her husband. She desperately needed a friend, but not a friend like that.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Louise added. ‘Hope you have a lovely evening, Mrs Benson.’ She hurried away.
That left Kirsten alone again. She gazed at the stragglers of the crowd with a growing lack of interest and watched with dismay as the waiters bearing silver trays of brimming champagne glasses gradually started to disappear. So much for not drinking. Now she really could kill for another glass of fizz, and at this rate it looked like she’d have to.
Chapter Ten
Rushing into the marquee, I’m slightly panicky that I’m late. Wow. That was an excruciating meeting with Tyler’s wife. She’s one ice-lady. Perhaps living with Tyler has made her into a Stepford Wife. She certainly seemed like one.
I’d hoped that we might strike up a rapport, perhaps even become friends or something. It might make Tyler think twice about touching me up, if I was pally with his wife. Well, it looks like that was a pipe dream. Kirsten Benson is probably the sort of woman who has a huge circle of wealthy women friends. What would she possibly want with the likes of me?
I catch up with the crowd as they scan the table plans. Lance’s scarily efficient assistant has drawn them up and I can only hope that I’ve been nice enough to Veronica in my first few months for her to seat me with someone who won’t eat me alive. Maybe I should have bribed her with chocolate treats from the staff canteen in advance.
This place has been done out on a breathtaking scale. The marquee is white, draped with gossamer chiffon that sparkles as the light catches it, making it look like oil on water. Glass icicles hang from the ceiling and there are lavish chandeliers like frozen waterfalls down the centre. The tables have pristine white linen cloths and are decorated with silver candelabra. The chairs are silver and the dance floor is made up of white squares which light up in time to the music. Currently, there’s a DJ playing mellow mood music. In the middle of the floor, there’s a vast
ice sculpture in the shape of the ammonite that is Fossil Oil’s beloved logo. Smoky tendrils of dry ice drift across the floor.
In all corners of the marquee there are towering Christmas trees, also white, which are dressed with oversized silver baubles. The whole thing is breathtakingly beautiful.
There’s a bar which is serving free booze all night and it seems as if many of the staff have already grown tired of the impressive decorations and are instead availing themselves of the gratis alcohol.
I don’t ever want to reach the stage where a free drink is more attractive than something like this, so I stand inside the doorway and take it all in, trying to memorise every bit to tell my daughter. With my mobile phone, I snap a few photos to show Mia in the morning. She’d be in her element in here.
When I’ve finished taking photographs, I carefully scan the room. Of Josh Wallace there’s no sign. He and Karen have disappeared without trace. Karen seems to be setting her plan to take him home with her in action already. Well, good luck to her. I have no need of that kind of thing.
I feel exhausted and yet the night is still young. It was flipping hard work talking to Kirsten Benson, I can tell you. Tyler’s wife is stunning to look at, but it was like trying to converse with a lump of stone. Perhaps it’s no wonder Tyler’s developed a roving eye. Just so long as it stops roving in my direction sometime soon, then everything will be fine between us.
I’m sure I wouldn’t be so miserable if I had all that she has. Karen told me that they live in a stonking great house in Hampstead. Hampstead, for heaven’s sake! I thought only TV stars lived there. And she doesn’t work or anything. Hasn’t lifted one of her immaculately manicured fingers in years. She looks like a woman who’s used to a life of ease. I bet she has a wardrobe full of cashmere and you can just tell that the dress she’s wearing didn’t come from Primark like mine. She has flawless skin and is as slender as a reed.
I should be massively jealous. She’s living the sort of life I’d like for myself and Mia but, oddly, I feel quite sorry for the woman. Although she’s expensively pretty, she also looked very fragile. Brittle. I should imagine that living with Tyler Benson has worn her down over the years. I wonder if she has any idea that her old man has an eye for the ladies.
Then, speak of the devil, my boss appears. He’s with Tom Davidson, who runs the refinery at Coryton. He shakes Davidson’s hand vigorously and then abruptly turns his back on the man. He heads in my direction and my stomach flips, but not in a good way.
‘Hello, hello,’ he says as he sidles up to me. ‘You’re looking particularly gorgeous tonight, my lovely sidekick.’
I paste a smile on my lips. ‘Good evening, Tyler.’
My boss doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. He stands about two inches away from me and, if it wasn’t for the wall behind me, I’d step back. As it is, I’m trapped.
Point to remember for future. Never get stuck against a wall with Tyler Benson. I’ve already learned not to get in a lift with him on my own if I can possibly avoid it. There’s actually a company directive that prohibits male employees from getting into a lift with a woman on her own. Tyler obviously hasn’t read it. The man has octopus hands.
His eyes rove over my body, lingering too long at the little cleavage that I’m now regretting showing. He leans in and puts a hand on the wall over my shoulder. Really, any closer and we’d actually be having sex. This despite the fact that our colleagues are all around. Maybe he’d feel differently if he knew I’d told Karen all about him. I try to make myself smaller, much smaller. I don’t know whether it’s the drink kicking in, but he seems to be even smarmier than usual.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Mighty fine. You’ve hidden your light under a bushel, Lovely Louise. I’ll be the envy of Fossil Oil with such a pretty personal assistant.’
He says ‘personal’ in a sleazebaggy way.
‘I’d rather they notice me for my sharp brain and excellent administration skills.’
He shrugs. ‘That’s a really great necklace.’ His fingers caress the pendant that hangs from my mum’s pearls.
‘Thanks.’ I get hold of it and try to move his hand away, but not before he’s traced a line down my chest and towards my breasts. Creep.
Can’t someone see this and rescue me? He’s like this in the office too. Every single time he passes my desk, he tries to brush against me. If he brings me work, he leans so far over me that I’m nearly pressed flat to the desk. I try to do all I can not to get into these situations. I try everything to get him to leave me alone without actually saying to him, ‘Back the fuck off!’
If this was some stranger in a nightclub, my inclination would be to knee him in the bollocks. But this is my boss. What can I do? Physically assaulting him would not enhance my promotion prospects.
Tyler angles his hips into mine and I jam my clutch bag between us to try to stop him attempting actual penetration. It reminds me of when I used to go to school discos and the local heartthrob would try to grind his groin into you during the slow dances. I sort of hoped that men got more sophisticated as they got older. It seems not.
My clutch bag is proving quite an effective method of contraception, but I’m feeling very uncomfortable with this situation. His wife is in the very next room, for goodness’ sake. Has the man got no shame?
Then, just as I’m thinking that I’ll have to say something or push him away, Josh Wallace appears.
‘Tyler!’ He claps him on the back and Tyler straightens up pretty swiftly.
I almost sag with relief.
‘Josh. Good to see you.’ In truth, he looks as if Josh is the last person on earth that he wants to see.
‘I brought a drink for you, Louise.’ He holds out a glass of champagne, which gives me the perfect excuse to extricate myself from Tyler’s clutches. While Tyler is distracted, I move away from the wall and towards Josh.
‘That’s very kind. Thank you.’
‘I need to talk to you, Tyler,’ Josh says. ‘When you’ve got a free moment. But for now, can I whisk this young lady away from you? Dinner’s about to start.’
‘Is it?’ Tyler takes in the rest of the room and realises that the tables are filling.
‘Catch you later.’ Josh takes my arm and adeptly steers me away.
‘We’ll have a dance when the disco starts,’ Tyler shouts after me.
Not if I can avoid it, I think.
‘That was a very timely intervention,’ I whisper to Josh when we’re out of earshot. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Tyler’s all right,’ Josh says. ‘He’s a bit of a lech, but I think his heart’s in the right place.’
‘It’s not his heart I’m worried about.’
Josh laughs. ‘I hope it’s OK, but I did a bit of furtive jiggling with Veronica’s table plan. She’d put me next to Ken Jones from IT. I don’t drink, but I might have been tempted to start. I never understand a single word he says. Everything goes right over my head. I thought I could find much more agreeable company than that and I switched place cards. He’s now with the moaning minnies of Alginate Sales and I have you sitting next to me.’
I like the thought that he finds me ‘agreeable company’. It sounds so very Jane Austen.
‘Where did Karen go?’ I scan the room for her, but I can’t catch a glimpse, even in that hot-pink dress. ‘I thought I might be next to her too.’
‘I did a bad thing,’ he confesses with a sheepish grin.
I wait to hear what.
‘I sort of jiggled her on to another table as well.’ He flicks a thumb behind him to indicate where. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘Not at all.’ I try to hide my smile. Poor Karen! She’ll be heartbroken. ‘I’m just glad of a friendly face.’
Josh pulls out my chair for me and gratefully I sit down. When I glance back at Tyler Benson, he’s staring straight at me, face as dark as night and frowning.
Chapter Eleven
The light touch of a warm hand making contact
with the bare skin of her shoulder made Kirsten jump.
‘Hey,’ the voice behind her said softly, ‘Kirsten Benson, as I live and breathe.’
Spinning round, Kirsten was aware that her mouth was suddenly dry, and it wasn’t entirely to do with a dearth of champagne. She’d know that voice anywhere. Even after all this time.
This was like a dream. No, a nightmare. No. Definitely a dream. Her vision went blurry and everyone else receded into the background, fading to nothing as the man in front of her was brought into sharp relief.
His face hadn’t aged at all. Not one jot. No grey hairs. No fine lines. Sickeningly, everything was exactly as she remembered it. His dark hair was swept back in the very same style. His fringe, over which he’d never had any control, flopped forward. The jewel-blue eyes still twinkled with laughter when he smiled. It was as if the years had fallen away.
Her heart knew him instantly too. It quickened and tightened as she looked at him. The colour, so carefully applied, drained from her face and it felt as if the ground was disappearing beneath her feet. The urge to reach up and touch him, to make sure that he was real and not just a mirage, gripped her. She clenched her hands into fists to stop herself.
Kirsten cleared her throat to make sure her voice knew that it was required to speak.
‘Simon Conway,’ she breathed, squeezing the words out of the dustbowl that had previously been her throat. ‘Well, well, well.’
He smiled, and a warmth that had been missing for too long flooded through her.
‘It’s been a long time.’ His voice, as it had always been, was as gentle as a lover’s caress.
Ten years and six months. That was exactly how long. Absolutely nothing that had happened in the intervening years had made her forget. If she was pushed, she could probably even count the days.
She tried to be sparkling, though her palms had grown clammy and damp. ‘Wow.’ She struggled to steady herself. ‘This is a surprise. What on earth are you doing here?’
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