‘It’ll be done in a jiffy.’ The man jerked a thumb towards the cab of his van. ‘There’s a flask of coffee on the dash, if you want a drop. You look like you could do with some.’
At least one of Tyler’s prayers had been answered. ‘Thank you,’ he said fervently.
‘Sit in the van. No need for us both to be out here freezing our knackers off.’
Tyler could have wept at his kindness.
So while the Ezee-Tires man replaced his sabotaged tyres, Tyler sat in the fuggy cab of the van and availed himself of the man’s coffee, enjoying the brief hit of caffeine it gave him. That would sustain him enough for the drive home.
He’d have to try to smooth things over with Kirsten as quickly as possible: he needed to be bright-eyed and bushytailed and in the office before Lance. The things he’d learned last night were vital to his future career with Fossil Oil and he’d have to find out how much Lance remembered of it when he was sober. Even by Lance’s standards, he’d been well out of it last night.
It sounded pretty much to Tyler as if this was Lance’s swansong. It might seem like a plum job for Lance, but Tyler was also sure it would be a one-way ticket to early-retirement oblivion. There was no way Lance would be coming back from this kamikaze mission. On the other hand, it could be a crucial launch pad for Tyler. As the obvious replacement for the UK chairman of Fossil Oil, he’d need time to prepare his strategy, talk to the right people, buy a bit of support if necessary. If Lance was being forced to walk the corporate plank, then Tyler might need to be right behind him, giving him a hefty shove.
The chairman’s job had his name all over it. He’d be a figurehead. Plenty of glad-handing and elaborate, calorie-laden business lunches with the right people. That’s one of the reasons why Lance was like a walking wine vat. That was all the chairman’s job was: walking round being happy-happy-smiley.
It was one of the reasons that Tyler most wanted the job too. No more headaches over sales figures, profit-and-loss and bloody net contributions. That would be someone else’s problem. He’d had enough of that stress. If it hadn’t been for Josh Wallace performing above and beyond the call of duty this year, then Tyler’s arse could have been on the line too. It didn’t bear thinking about. So long as Josh was still the golden boy, Tyler could bask in the glow. And that was all right by him. He could even pull Josh up the ladder with him, so his back was always covered. Much as Lance had done with him.
His thoughts turned to Melissa. Perhaps he’d been too harsh with her. Even though they were leaving England, Lance would still have a certain amount of clout in Fossil for the time being, and it always paid to have more friends than you did enemies. Maybe he’d send her some flowers to her new home. Louise could find out where that was for him. Right before he fired her. If Melissa came back to London for a visit, it might not hurt to meet up with her again. They’d had some fun while it lasted, and he could always trust her to be discreet.
The man had finished changing his tyres, so Tyler handed over his credit card, and with more thanks he palmed him a twenty. Who’d want to be out changing tyres before dawn on Christmas Eve, for goodness’ sake? Though they’d added more than enough to the bill to compensate. Great Christmas spirit, eh? Still, it was done and the man jumped into his van and drove away, leaving Tyler standing alone in the car park once more.
Climbing into his car, he gunned the engine and turned the heater to full blast in the hope of stopping the chattering of his teeth. He checked his phone but there was still nothing but a resounding silence from Kirsten. The battery was almost dead, and anyway it was too early to call her. She’d be tired and deserved a lie-in. If she’d had a long time to sleep on the antics of last night, it might put her in a better mood when he did turn up. Then again, if she was awake, she’d be tearing her hair out by now. Well, let her.
He turned the car slowly down the sweeping drive towards Wadestone Manor. Driving slowly past, he noted the smouldering wreckage of the marquee. The ice ammonite would be nothing but a puddle. All those metres of chiffon and sparkly bits, the resplendent Christmas trees and the fake icicles, all snuffed out in a matter of moments, totally obliterated, forgotten for ever. It was just a shame that the rest of the Christmas party couldn’t suffer the same fate.
The firefighters were still battling away, pouring torrents of water on to it, and he suspected they’d be here for the rest of the day. But there was an air of success about them now and it seemed as if they’d got it under control. Black smoke mixed with the mist, and the air was thick with the acrid smell. Tyler closed the air vents in the Merc, put his foot down and wheeled away. There was going to be some serious aftermath from this Christmas party. He could feel it in his chilled bones.
As he drove through the wrought-iron gates at the entrance and headed for home, it started to snow again. Fat, lacy flakes splattered on his windscreen. Tyler sighed. That was all he needed. A white fucking Christmas.
Chapter Forty-six
Simon twined his fingers through Kirsten’s hair. Tiny beads of sweat slicked her skin and glistened between her breasts. She cried again with elation and arched against him.
Giving a shudder and a sigh of satisfaction, he let his weight sink on to her, his dark hair resting against the white swell of her breast. His skin was soft and smooth and felt like silk against hers. He was tanned, his muscles firm and defined. The watery grey winter sun was struggling to get up as it was still the wrong side of a civilised time. Half-heartedly it pushed through the fading darkness and cloud cover, failing miserably in its attempts to bring any warmth into the room. Kirsten pulled the duvet over them and snuggled into the heat of Simon’s body. Despite the attempts of the weather outside, in here there was sunshine in her heart.
A few hours ago, the man lying next to her had been Simon the old flame, the one that got away. Now he was Simon her lover, her future, the old flame having been fanned into a brilliant, burning fire once again. A few hours ago she had been a faithful, unhappily married woman. Now she was an unfaithful and very happy one.
Flipping himself lazily on to his back and flinging his arm above him across the pillow, Simon eased her body against his. Her lover’s hair was tousled from sleep and stuck out at erratic angles, caused mainly by the bits in between the sleep.
‘Good morning,’ she said as he softly kissed the top of her head.
‘You sound bright and breezy.’ Simon looked down at her.
She felt it. Despite the lack of sleep and the hint of a hangover, there was a lightness in her soul that had been missing for too long.
‘No second thoughts?’ His voice was laced with concern.
‘Not one.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Now all we have to do is sort out the rest of our lives,’ she said with a laugh. ‘And I think that’s better done after I’ve had a cup of tea.’
‘I can take a hint.’
‘You stay here.’ She kissed him again. ‘I think you’ve more than earned tea in bed.’
As Kirsten slid out from between the sheets, he caught her by the wrist.
‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ His voice was thick with emotion. ‘Just like old times. Exactly as I remembered.’
She turned his hand and planted a gentle kiss on the palm. ‘It was like coming home.’
Kirsten reached for her dressing-gown, suddenly self-conscious in her nakedness. This had all moved way faster than she could ever have imagined. She brushed her hair with long, languorous strokes, watching herself in the mirror. Who was this strange, reckless creature that looked back at her? Kirsten wasn’t sure, but she knew she liked her.
‘I’d better think about making a move,’ he said ruefully and with a wary glance at the alarm clock. ‘I don’t fancy facing Tyler’s fury.’
‘Tyler won’t be home just yet,’ Kirsten assured him. ‘He’ll have found somewhere to spend the night.’ Probably with Louise, if she knew anything about her errant husband. ‘Nothing would get him up at this h
our after the Christmas party. We’re fine for a few hours, I’m sure.’
‘I should at least call Lance,’ he said. ‘Let him know of my decision.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ That Simon would give up so much for her in an instant was a heady thought.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Then I’ll leave you to it while I make us something to eat.’ It was unlike her to be ravenous in the morning, but then so much about the last few hours had been unlike her.
‘Mind if I hop in the shower too?’
‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘If there’s anything you need, just shout.’
‘Someone to scrub my back?’
Briefly she thought about joining him, and then realised that she’d been reckless enough for now. There was only so much you could do on an empty stomach.
‘You’re a big boy. You can manage.’ She pulled her dressing-gown tighter and went down to the kitchen. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
In the kitchen, she made tea and found some bacon in the fridge. Simon had always loved bacon sandwiches for Sunday brunch – a time when they used to lie together on the sofa, feet entwined, sharing the newspapers, reading out titbits to each other, lazing the day away. Kirsten allowed herself a contented smile. She was looking forward to doing that with him again.
As she boiled the kettle for some tea and put the bacon on the grill pan, the doorbell rang. A glance at the clock told her that it was still before seven and, heart sinking, she knew the only person it could be.
She walked to the window by the front door and craned her neck to look. A rather dishevelled Tyler was standing on the pavement in what appeared to be a waiter’s uniform. He didn’t look very happy at all.
She hadn’t expected him for hours, but if she had to face him now, so be it. Kirsten cracked the door open, blocking the way with her body.
‘You’d deadlocked the door and left your key in the lock,’ Tyler complained.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m leaving you,’ she said. ‘Or, more accurately, you’re leaving me.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Why are you dressed as a waiter?’
‘Long story. Let me in, Kirsten.’
‘No. I’ll get you a change of clothes, and after Christmas we can discuss divorce arrangements.’
He recoiled at that. ‘Divorce? Have you lost your mind?’
‘I think I’ve just found it, Tyler.’ She looked at him with sadness. ‘We can’t go on like this. I know that. You know that. There are no children involved. We can have a clean break.’
‘I don’t want a clean break,’ he insisted. ‘I don’t want a break at all.’ He leaned against the doorframe, his face close to hers. ‘I love you.’
‘In your own way, I’m sure you do. But it’s not enough anymore. I don’t want to be beholden to you. I don’t want to be beholden to Fossil Oil.’
‘This is about what you thought you saw at the Christmas party, isn’t it?’ He sighed. ‘You were mistaken. That wasn’t me with Louise, it was Josh Wallace. She told me what happened.’
‘Oh, Tyler. Listen to yourself. You don’t think I’m going to believe that? I saw what I saw. Let’s both live with that.’
‘I will not have my marriage end because of a stupid mistake. Your mistake.’
She could tell him now all she knew about the emails he’d concocted all those years ago to break up her and Simon’s relationship, but what was the point? Tyler would only deny it, and that would only mean more time spent arguing on the doorstep. He didn’t need to know what had finally tipped her over the edge. She was leaving and that was the end of that. ‘You don’t actually have any choice. It’s over.’
‘Don’t be like this, Kirsten. You’re angry. I can understand that. But you’ve got it all wrong. I can explain if you just let me in,’ Tyler wheedled. ‘We can talk about it over a coffee. You know what the Christmas party’s like. I’ve had a terrible night, Kirsten. First there was Lance’s bombshell announcement, then I nearly got sawn in half by the fucking magician, then you thought I was shagging Louise when I wasn’t and, to top it all, the marquee went up in flames and I had to be rescued barearsed by a burly fireman in front of the entire staff. I’m emotionally exhausted.’
‘Oh, Tyler.’ Kirsten folded her arms. ‘Why is it always you in the middle of a drama?’ Not that she believed half of his stupid sob story.
‘It’s Christmas Eve. Christmas Day tomorrow,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll tell you the full story later. I’ll tell you why I’m wearing these stupid clothes. I’ll open a bottle of fizz. Good stuff. And we’ll be laughing all about it by Boxing Day.’
‘I’ll pack you a bag,’ Kirsten said. ‘You need to find somewhere else to stay.’
‘On Christmas Eve?’ He looked horrified. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Perhaps Louise will accommodate you.’
‘That’s beneath you, Kirsten. There is nothing, absolutely nothing between me and Louise. I love you. You know I do.’
‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in five minutes. Is there anything in particular you want?’
‘No! Yes! I want you!’
‘I’m afraid that’s the one thing you can’t have.’ Kirsten closed the door, relocking it and once again blocking the lock by leaving the key in it. Despite her calm exterior, her heart was beating erratically.
Quickly she climbed the stairs. There was only so long that Tyler would remain outside. It would be just like him to try to kick the door in.
In the bedroom, she could still hear the shower running, and Simon was humming tunelessly beneath the torrent, blissfully unaware of the confrontation that was occurring at the front door. She closed the bathroom door so that it would stay that way. No need for Simon to be involved in this. It would only turn ugly if Tyler knew the truth, and she couldn’t cope with any pistols-at-dawn stuff.
She grabbed Tyler’s overnight bag from the wardrobe and filled it with clean underwear, socks, his favourite tie and a couple of shirts. Tyler’s many suits hung in a tidy row, interspersed with equal gaps that smacked of military precision. Kirsten selected one, a mid-grey, mid-weight wool by Hugo Boss. She slotted it into a carry bag and draped that over her arm.
The doorbell rang again and Tyler let his finger stay on the buzzer longer than was strictly necessary. No matter. She was just about done.
Thankfully, he always left toiletries in the main bathroom too, so she was able to give him all he needed for a few days from there. She squeezed his sponge bag into the case, then closed the lid against the bulge of clothing and firmly shut the clasps.
Tyler rapped violently on the knocker. It was a brass lion’s head and wasn’t used to this sort of abuse.
She was already on her way downstairs when she heard him shout, ‘Kirsten, I know you can hear me!’ He battered the door with his fists. ‘Stop this silliness now, darling. Let me in!’ He thumped again. He tried the bell and the knocker simultaneously. ‘Open this door, Kirsten, or I’ll kick the fucking thing in!’
Kirsten opened the door. Tyler was red in the face and foaming at the mouth. He was pacing up and down like a raging bull in his waiter’s outfit. Mrs Hartley-Brown from number 42 was watching from behind the safety of her French shutters.
‘You’re waking the neighbours, Tyler.’
‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ he roared. ‘They’ve got a lot to do anyway.’ He turned and gave Mrs Hartley-Brown the finger.
‘I’ve packed you a bag,’ Kirsten said. ‘You can collect the rest of your belongings after Christmas.’
She put it at his feet and Tyler stared at it, all anger gone from him. ‘You can’t do this, Kirsten. This is me. Tyler. You love me. I’m your husband. For better, for worse. Remember that? What’s brought this on all of a sudden? I thought we were happy.’
‘I’ve been unhappy for years, Tyler.’ She shook her head. ‘You know that.’
‘We can work it out. I promise. I sa
id we would. We were going to spend Christmas talking.’
‘I’m past that point.’
‘I’ll call you later,’ he said. ‘You’ll feel differently then.’
She was wavering. She knew she was, and he knew it too. How could she do this to Tyler at Christmas? Yet she could hardly let him into the house now. Then he would know that her decision had been spurred by Simon’s return. She didn’t feel she owed Tyler any explanations at all.
‘I have nowhere to go, Kirsten,’ he said pathetically and, though she didn’t want it to, it still tore at her insides.
Then he glanced at his watch and his mood changed. ‘Look, I’ve got to get to work. I need to sort out the mess that Lance created last night. But I promise I’ll come home early, as soon as I’ve finished, and we can sort this out.’
Kirsten smiled grimly to herself. And there was the rub. Whatever was going on in Tyler’s life – his marriage could be crashing down around his ears – Fossil Oil would always come first.
He picked up his bag. ‘Are there shoes in here?’ he asked. ‘I need shoes.’
She stared down at the garish trainers on his feet. ‘Where did yours go?’
‘I told you, it’s a long story,’ Tyler said. ‘I’ll fill you in on the details later when I come home.’
There was a pair on the stand in the hallway and she handed them to him.
Tyler moved away from the door. ‘I will be back,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’m not letting you go without a fight.’
He threw the overnight bag, suit and shoes into the back of the car. The car that now seemed to have a deep, ugly scratch all round it. No doubt there would be a long story about that too. Well, she had no interest in it.
‘Merry Christmas, Tyler,’ she said. Her heart tightened with sadness, with regret. ‘I hope you find happiness.’
‘Some things are worth fighting for, Kirsten. You’ll see.’ He jumped into his car and wound down the window. ‘This is not goodbye.’
But it was goodbye. Kirsten stood and watched him pull away. He waved at her hopefully as he drove down the street. Emotion closed her throat and she bit down on the tears that threatened. Perhaps if he’d noticed Simon’s car parked a few doors down, he might have realised that he had a bigger problem on his hands than he imagined.
The Christmas Party Page 27