When they were sated, they lay beside each other, her body curled into Simon’s, head rested on his chest. They fitted so well together. They always had.
‘Are you sure you won’t regret this in the morning?’ Simon’s voice was heavy with concern, his eyes dark under his fine fringe.
‘It’s nearly morning already,’ she said softly. ‘And there are a lot of things that I might well regret, Simon, but this won’t be one of them.’
She’d always thought it would be difficult to be unfaithful, but it hadn’t been so at all. Making love to Simon hadn’t given her even a momentary pang of guilt. Perhaps Tyler’s lack of morals had changed her own perspective over the years. She’d thought it would take away a little piece of her soul, when in fact she felt enriched.
Somehow, in the act of love, the years had melted away. They were back to where they had been before it had all gone so horribly wrong. The curtains were open and the dawn would be brightening. She loved the look of him in the orange-grey urban half-light, his strong body in silhouette.
Absently, he stroked her hair. ‘What happens now?’
‘I want to run away from it all,’ Kirsten admitted. ‘I’d like to pack a bag and just go. I fancy somewhere far away.’ She grinned up at him. ‘Preferably with a beach.’
‘A beach?’ He laughed softly. ‘I could go for that.’
She was suddenly serious again. ‘If we’re going to be a couple—’
‘And I sincerely hope that we are,’ Simon interjected.
‘—you’ll never be able to work with Tyler. He simply won’t tolerate it.’
‘That may not be his choice.’
‘Your job will become a daily battleground,’ she said. ‘It will permeate everything you do. Our relationship will be tainted by his presence. He’ll make sure of it. Is that what you really want?’
‘I’m sure we could work it out.’
She shivered despite the comforting warmth of his body against hers. Simon pulled up the duvet and tucked it round her.
‘I think I’m done with this lifestyle,’ she continued. ‘I’m tired of being nothing more than a corporate wife. It would be the same with you. Fossil Oil would dictate that you were needed somewhere else, and off we’d go on the same giddy roundabout.’
‘I’m a different person to Tyler. I’d handle it better.’
‘I’m sure you would, but it’s still a rat race. The Fossil management programme is particularly destructive. Isn’t there any way we can get off this dreadful corporate treadmill that just keeps going round and round to nowhere? It’s like being a hamster on one of those little wheels – you pedal and pedal, faster and faster, until you drop off exhausted and call it early retirement.’ She sighed with exasperation. ‘I mean, what is the point of working for Fossil Oil? Is it helping world peace? Is it feeding starving children? Is it finding a cure for cancer?’ Kirsten was beginning to feel impassioned. ‘Can’t we leave it all behind and do something worthwhile? I want to do something for myself again. I used to enjoy working. Now how do I spend my days? I hang around, go to the gym, visit the hairdresser. My life is empty, Simon. There must be more to it than this. I could do something.’
‘Like what?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I think I really would like to get right away from here. Go abroad. Anywhere. Have a completely new start. I must have skills that someone can use. Whatever happens, I know I don’t want Tyler or Fossil Oil to be part of my life in the future.’
‘If that’s what it takes to keep you, then I’ll do it,’ Simon said. ‘There’s one thing you can be sure of: I won’t ever let you slip through my fingers again. If it’s what you want, I’ll ring Lance and resign as soon as the office opens.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ It seemed so simple for Simon, so straightforward, but then he’d always been that way. There’d been a clarity to his vision that she’d admired. All these things that she’d tried to forget about him now came rushing back.
‘Of course. He won’t like it, but there it is. He’ll have to accept it.’ He took her hand. ‘We’ve wasted too much time already.’
She was gripped by a fever of excitement. ‘Let’s just pack a bag and go somewhere. Now.’
‘Don’t we need to speak to Tyler?’ Simon’s dark eyes were troubled. ‘We should face him together.’
She shook her head. ‘We owe him nothing. He’ll destroy us both if he can. He’ll be coming back soon and I want to be gone before he does. The sooner I’m out of here the better.’ Now she’d decided to go, there was nothing that could hold her back. ‘He’ll give me some whining excuse and lay guilt on me about it being the season of goodwill. He’ll beg me to stay for a few more days and then he’ll try to hold me here. I know what he’s like. I’m not staying a moment longer, Simon.’
She couldn’t sit through Christmas with him. It would be obscene. The pretence that they had a marriage was over. Kirsten wanted a clean break. They had no children to consider, there was nothing to hold her here. It wasn’t even their house. Better that she should leave right away while her resolve was strong.
Simon shrugged. ‘I’m not going to argue with that, if you’re sure that’s what you want. That it’s me you want.’
‘I do.’ Kirsten turned to him and kissed him deeply. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you.’
Chapter Forty-two
Dad, of course, is waiting in the hall. He’s hopping about uncomfortably. ‘You could have brought him in, you know.’
‘I couldn’t,’ I tell my father. ‘He’s just someone I work with who was giving me a lift home.’
My dad harrumphs.
‘You would have frightened him off in your tartan pyjamas.’
He looks down and realises that I’m probably right. I wonder what Josh would have thought of all the tinsel, garlands and festive tat that my mum has festooned in here as a welcome. There’s a Santa on the windowsill with a glowing nose that flashes on and off. If I’d been in Josh’s shoes I’d have high-tailed it out of here as fast as I could. I rub the Santa’s portly stomach affectionately.
‘Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That’d be great, Dad.’ Suddenly I feel weary down to my bones. My feet throb and I kick off my shoes to rub my toes on the carpet.
‘Your mum always used to do that,’ he says. ‘When we used to go dancing.’
‘You should go out more,’ I tell him. ‘I bet you could both still trip the light fantastic if you put your minds to it.’
‘I think our dancing days are over,’ he says. ‘We like to stay in with you and Mia. The Christmas Strictly was brilliant tonight. I can’t wait for the second part on Christmas Day. You missed a treat.’
While Dad tells me who got voted off and who stayed, who nailed the rumba and who didn’t, we go through to the kitchen. He busies himself making tea. It reminds me of when I was a teenager and came back, usually heartbroken, from the school disco. Then Dad would ply me with tea and a mountain of hot buttered toast and tell me that I was the most beautiful girl in the world even though I had braces, spots and greasy hair.
On cue, Dad makes his offer. ‘Any toast, love? I know you like a bit of toast when you come home late.’
I wonder if he remembers those times too. ‘No thanks, Dad. I might just have a biscuit.’ I don’t have to ask if they’ve got any. The cupboards at my parents’ house are always stacked out with tempting treats – chocolate digestives, bourbons, custard creams, Hobnobs, caramel wafers. When I move out, I’ll be back to healthy fruits and nuts. I will, honestly.
Then my eyes prickle with tears. I watch Dad as he moves about the kitchen, humming as he does. He makes my tea with such loving care that my heart squeezes. I shouldn’t be in a rush to leave them. I know how much they love having us here, despite the compromises, despite everything. It’s lovely for Mia to have such a close relationship with her grandparents. I should enjoy this time with them.
‘
Here’s me chattering on about Strictly and I haven’t asked you about your lovely party. Did you have a nice time?’
I swallow down my tears as Dad delivers my tea and a plate piled high with a selection of biscuits. Comfort carbs.
‘It was interesting,’ I say, trying to sound non-committal. I nibble at a custard cream and gulp my tea gratefully. ‘Not quite what I expected. Beautiful place.’
How can I tell him that I left my boss totally naked apart from his socks in the library?
Then I’m saved further explanation as Mum comes down in her dressing-gown. ‘I heard you talking,’ she says as she kisses my cheek. ‘Was it wonderful?’
‘Yeah. It was great.’ Better a little white lie than a full-on description of a mad, mad night.
‘We could go into the living room. I’ll put the fire on.’
It would also mean her switching on the tree lights and all of the jigging, singing Santas that are lined up on the fireplace.
‘I should go to bed. It’s late and I’ve got work in the morning.’ I don’t add that it might be my very last day. ‘I want to see Mia too.’
‘She’s in your bed.’
No surprise there.
I kiss them both. As I head for the door, I stop and take a deep breath. ‘How would you feel if I invited someone to come for Christmas lunch?’
‘Well,’ Mum says, wide-eyed, ‘there’s a turn-up for the books.’
‘Is that the boy that brought you home?’
I laugh. ‘He’s hardly a boy, Dad.’ Then I feel myself flush. ‘But, yes, that’s him.’
‘He’d be more than welcome,’ Mum says. ‘You know that.’
I can tell that they’re both as pleased as Punch.
‘He might not say yes,’ I point out. ‘But I’ll ask.’
My mother is mentally choosing wedding hats already.
‘Night, then,’ I say. ‘See you in the morning.’ I kiss them both again. ‘Love you both.’
‘Night, night, Lou-Lou,’ Dad says as he’s done since I was a girl.
‘Night, Dad.’
I climb the stairs and tiptoe into my bedroom. In the light from her little pink Christmas tree across the hall, I can see that Mia is splayed out in the middle of the bed, thumb in her mouth.
As quietly as I can, I wriggle out of my dress. Then I pull the pins from my hair and let it fall loose. I run my fingers through it, massaging my scalp. I wonder briefly what it would feel like to have Josh Wallace’s fingers run through my hair. Nice. I think it would feel very nice indeed. Slipping into my pyjamas, I slide into bed next to Mia and nudge her up until I can lie down too.
She stirs. ‘Did you have a nice time, Mummy?’ she murmurs sleepily.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, as I stroke her hair. ‘It was lovely.’
‘Did you dance with a prince?’
I smile to myself. ‘Yes. Maybe I did.’
My daughter yawns. ‘Shall I sing to you about King Wencas again?’
‘Not now, sweet pea.’
‘Is Santa coming tonight?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I tell her. ‘Santa will be here tomorrow. Go to sleep.’
As I cuddle up into her, I can’t help but wonder what else tomorrow might bring.
Chapter Forty-three
Tyler was still at the window shouting ‘Help!’ at the congregated staff of Fossil Oil, who remained motionless. No one, it seemed, was in a hurry to rush to his aid.
It was with great relief that he finally heard a noise at the library door. Seconds later there was some heavy banging, and next the shiny blade of an axe splintered the antique door. Not only had Louise locked him in here, but she must have pocketed the key too. He felt his jaw tighten.
A fireman broke through the wood and crashed unceremoniously into the library.
‘You’re all right now, mate!’ the fireman shouted as he lifted his breathing apparatus and wiped a trace of sweat from his brow.
Tyler couldn’t entirely agree with him. It may rate highly as one of his wife’s fantasies – heaven knew she must have some – to be found stark naked by a strapping six-foot fireman, but unfortunately it wasn’t one of his.
‘Blimey, mate.’ The fireman tilted his yellow hat back on his head as he gaped at Tyler. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘I was a little warm, so I thought I’d make myself comfortable,’ Tyler answered tightly.
‘I bet you did!’ The fireman winked at him. ‘It must have been one hell of a party.’
It certainly has been one hell of a Christmas party, Tyler’s brain echoed bitterly. The repercussions could go on until doomsday.
‘I’m Dale.’ He shook Tyler’s hand. ‘Let’s get you out of here then.’
‘Can’t you find me some clothes or something to cover myself with?’
‘No time for that. The fire’s spreading quickly. We’ve got to get a move on.’
Tyler felt the panic, which had so recently subsided, rise in him again. ‘Where is the fire?’
‘Oh very funny, mate.’ Dale laughed as he walked towards the open window, kicking the matchstick remnants of the door out of his way. ‘I’ve not heard that one before.’
At the window, there was now a waiting ladder. The staff had all moved towards the part of the lawn nearest to it, watching with great anticipation. At the bottom of the ladder two more firefighters stood waiting expectantly.
‘At least let me take my socks off,’ Tyler said.
But it was too late. Without further pleasantries, Dale grabbed Tyler by his waist and threw him, with all the elegance of a sack of King Edward potatoes, over his shoulder.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Tyler screeched.
‘Just my job,’ the fireman answered calmly.
Tyler closed his eyes and battled with the rising anger that brought blood burning to his cheeks – both sets of cheeks. Louise had humiliated him enough tonight to last her a lifetime. He would not forget, or forgive, this easily. Someone would pay for this, and he knew exactly who it would be.
Dale staggered towards the window, Tyler dangling reluctantly down his back, his bottom bared to the world.
‘I’m not going down there,’ Tyler said. ‘No way.’
‘No choice. The corridor outside’s filling with smoke.’
Tyler looked askance at the ladder. It might be the ground floor, but it was still a long way up and there were a lot of prickly shrubs between him and terra firma. ‘I can manage myself.’
‘No can do,’ Dale said. ‘Health and safety. I have to carry you.’
‘Never.’
‘It’ll all be over in a minute.’
Yet Tyler knew that it would take him a lifetime to live this down.
Dale stepped up on to the windowsill. Tyler’s heart went into overdrive, racing furiously. ‘I could break my neck.’
‘You’re in safe hands.’ With that he swung them both on to the ladder and started his slow descent.
When the staff realised what was happening, a massive cheer went up. Every jolting step down the ladder was agony and the cut across his waist was stinging with pain. He could feel his gentleman’s tackle squashed against Dale’s shoulder while a chill winter breeze played delicately over his bare arse. On top of that he could hear the fireman panting heavily beneath him. It was the most disconcerting and distressing experience he’d ever had.
Then, as he neared the ground, Dale handed him over to two of his waiting colleagues and the cheers morphed into wolf whistling. His shame was now complete and there was nothing to protect him.
The fireman placed him upright, went to brush him down, then thought better of it. Tyler stood stock still and bore it all stoically.
‘There’s a blanket in the engine, mate,’ one said as he glanced down at Tyler. ‘I’ll get it for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Tyler said. ‘I’m very grateful.’ He hoped they understood sarcasm.
In so many ways, this had been the worst night of his life, and he suspected it wasn’t over
yet. He still had to find and placate Kirsten. His eyes scanned the sniggering crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was a shame for her she wasn’t here to witness this. How she would have enjoyed seeing him suffer.
Thank goodness there was only one day left in the office before the Christmas break. He normally hated this time of the year, but now he couldn’t wait to get away from Fossil Oil for a few days of rest and recuperation. He just wanted to be at home with Kirsten, getting very, very drunk.
The sound of laughter and clinking glasses reverberated in his ears. They would pay. They would all pay.
Dale came over to him. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’
‘I guess it all depends on your perspective,’ Tyler replied.
The fireman took off his yellow helmet and, with a glance down at Tyler’s manhood, said, ‘You might want to use this. It’s a cold night.’
‘No, thank you,’ Tyler said.
With all the dignity he could muster Tyler held his head high, stood tall and, ignoring the childish titters and catcalls, strolled as casually as he could manage towards the waiting fire engine.
Chapter Forty-four
Upstairs again, Melissa tiptoed round the bedroom. Goodness knew why: it would have been possible to run the vacuum cleaner and play the radio at full blast in the same room and still not have woken Lance. She knew that, because in the past she’d tried it. But somehow, under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate to tiptoe. It would be difficult to have Lance awake while she packed her entire life into two reasonably sized suitcases and left him for ever. He was still in the same place, spreadeagled on the bed, half dressed. She stared down at him. Over thirty years with him and it had come to this.
Melissa wasn’t sure what to do next. The speed and spontaneity of her decision had left her slightly light-headed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about leaving Lance, of course she had. But she’d never really believed that she would.
Where could she go? What could she do? She might not intend to go to Washington, but she thought she’d take her airline ticket anyway. Perhaps she could exchange it, maybe fly back to New York and make a new life for herself. She still had a few friends there. Though how fair-weather they were, she didn’t know. She had her credit card too, but she wondered how long it would be before Lance stopped her spending on it. He wouldn’t take kindly to her leaving.
The Christmas Party Page 25