He retrieved his briefcase from under his desk. It was light, because it didn’t have anything in it except for this morning’s copy of the Financial Times, which he always failed to do more than flick through briefly. By the time he got home, Melissa would be back. She’d have a bourbon ready and waiting for him. After all these years it was nice that she still cared enough to do that for him. He ought to tell her more often. But she knew. After all this time, of course she knew. They’d have a good Christmas together. Melissa would like that.
As he turned to leave, the phone on his desk rang. The caller alert told him that it was Bud Harman again. Lance sighed. He’d just take this before he departed. As he reached for the handset, his arm went into spasm and he clutched the phone tightly, unable to release his grip. The telephone clattered from the desk, falling to the floor and cutting off the call. Following it, Lance sank to his knees on the carpet, a silent scream in his throat.
A searing hot pain shot through his chest. He thought of Melissa, he thought of his boys, he thought of how he should have done things so very differently. Then Lance Harvey, the newly appointed executive president of Fossil Oil, took his last breath.
Chapter Sixty
Melissa was having tea in the Long Gallery of the Ritz when Sebastian, her favourite concierge, came to speak to her. ‘
There’s a gentleman at reception asking to speak to you, Mrs Harvey,’ he said. ‘A Mr Martin Sheffield.’
‘Oh, Martin,’ she said. ‘Please ask him to come in.’ ‘s
I don’t think he wants to. He said he’d rather stay in reception.’
‘Tell him not to be so silly, Sebastian. Can you have another cup and some more tea sent too, please?’
‘Certainly, Mrs Harvey.’
He turned and strode away.
The Ritz was bustling today and looking beautiful in its festive garb. Huge vases of seasonal flowers graced the long gallery and the pillars of the Palm Court were dressed with spirals of poinsettia and gold ribbon. A throng of chattering people enjoyed afternoon tea while the pianist was tinkling out a very agreeable selection of uplifting Christmas songs. She’d been ensconced here for a long time, watching everyone bustle to and fro, listening to the music. It was all so very lovely that it had quite taken her out of herself.
Melissa checked her phone. Lance had called her several times, but she’d let it go straight to voicemail. The last time was about an hour ago and there’d been nothing since then. The sad thing was that she had nothing to say to him. Their marriage was over and that was all there was to it. He’d be distraught, of course he would, but in time he’d surround himself with a horde of staff to cater for his needs and she was sure he’d barely notice that she’d gone.
She should be feeling panicked, cut adrift, but instead there was a quiet calm at the centre of her being. This had been long overdue and, now that it had happened, she felt she’d been given her life back.
The first thing she’d done on arrival at the Ritz was Skype the boys. She’d borrowed a laptop from the business centre and contacted them as soon as she could. When she’d told them she’d left their father, they’d been supportive, both of them. They’d also begged her to go out and see them. And she would, just as soon as she was able. There was talk that they might all meet up together in the new year and that would be nice. So nice. She missed them desperately.
When she looked towards reception again, Martin was coming through the glass doors. He was still wearing his work suit and seemed a little harried.
He walked up to her looking very ill at ease with his surroundings.
Melissa stood to greet him. ‘Martin. How lovely to see you.’
Glancing round, he whispered, ‘I’m more used to being round the back of these places, Mrs Harvey.’
‘Not today, Martin. Today you’re my guest.’ She sat down again. ‘What brings you here so soon? Is everything all right?’
‘It’s fine, Mrs Harvey.’
For a moment, she’d been worried that Lance had decided to send him to bring her home.
‘Do sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her. ‘I’ve sent for some more tea. I hope you’ll join me.’
He was obviously feeling awkward, but he sat down beside her nevertheless. The tea arrived and Melissa poured him a cup. When she handed it to him, the delicate china looked ridiculously small in his hands.
‘Are you settled in, Mrs Harvey?’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘They gave me my usual suite. It’s all lovely.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Martin looked embarrassed. He sipped at his tea and she understood that he was a man who’d be happier with a mug in his hand. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
‘That’s very kind. I’m fine, Martin. Absolutely fine. Lance hasn’t sent you, has he?’
‘No, Mrs Harvey. Mr Harvey has no idea where you are. My lips are sealed. I just came to tell you that I’ve left Fossil Oil.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I dropped Mr Harvey at the office this morning and as I watched him go, something snapped inside me. I couldn’t stay. I’ve had enough. So I took the Bentley back to the garage, left the keys on the desk and hopped on the train back to London.’
‘Oh my goodness.’ Melissa put a hand to her chest. ‘This isn’t because of me?’
‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘To be honest, Mrs Harvey, I’ve only stayed because of you.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s very kind.’
He smiled at her shyly.
‘How do you think Lance will get home?’
‘He’ll manage,’ Martin said. ‘He’ll manage without us both.’
‘You’re right.’ Though she knew he’d be furious when he found out that Martin had also absconded on Christmas Eve. ‘If you’ve given up your job, what will you do now?’
‘I’ll think about that in the new year,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a lovely daughter, Julie, who lives out in Kent. She’s always on at me to move down there, be closer to the grandkids. She’s got three smashers. I might give up my council flat in town and do that. It would make her happy.’
‘Do you know, Martin, in all the time you’ve been driving Lance – and me – I realise that I don’t know anything about your life.’
She’d been so wrapped up in her own existence that she’d never taken the time to chat to him. That was a terrible thing. Perhaps she’d been blinded by her obsession with Tyler Benson. Or maybe it was because Martin had been there in the background, unobtrusive, ready to help. He was an attractive man too, and she’d never really noticed that before either. He was just Martin and always there. Now she noted that he was stocky, not overly tall. His face was ruddy; his eyes were kind and they were also a quite lovely shade of blue.
‘There’s nothing much to know, Mrs Harvey. I don’t live an exciting life like you do. It’s all very quiet.’
‘I’m very glad to give up everything for a quiet life, Martin.’ He knew only too well the things she’d had to endure in her marriage to Lance. He’d had an insight into parts of their lives that no one else knew about. She’d always valued his strength, his support and, most of all, his discretion. Martin was definitely a man you could rely on.
‘I don’t even know if you have a wife?’
‘Widowed.’ Martin cleared his throat. ‘Pat died several years ago now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s hard on your own,’ he continued. ‘It’s the little things you miss.’
‘I think Pat was a very lucky woman.’
‘I was recently retired from the police service, the Met. It was supposed to be our time together, to make up for all the time I spent on shift work and hardly saw her.’ He kept his eyes down as he spoke. ‘You can never foresee these things, can you? That’s why I took the driving job. I didn’t want to be at home kicking my heels. It’s been good for me. I’ve enjoyed it. You’ve been very easy to work for, Mrs Harvey.’ He blushed at that. ‘But, well, with everythi
ng that’s happened, it’s time to move on.’
‘For you and me both,’ she said.
‘I’d better be going.’ He finished his tea and became self-conscious as the cup rattled in its saucer when he put it down. ‘It’s tough out there, Mrs Harvey. I wish you all the luck in the world. If you need anything, you just let me know. Anything at all. You’ve got my number.’
‘Thank you, Martin.’ Tears rushed to her eyes and she dabbed them away. ‘That’s very thoughtful.’
He stood up. ‘Well …’
Suddenly she didn’t want to be alone tonight. No one should spend Christmas in a hotel by themselves, no matter how luxurious.
‘What are you doing later, Martin?’
‘Me? Nothing. Do you want me to drive you somewhere?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘You’re not my driver any more. Remember?’
‘I still have my own car.’
‘No, no. That’s not what I meant at all. What I’m trying to ask is whether you’d like to come back and join me for dinner?’
He laughed softly and took in the opulence of the Ritz again. ‘This is not my kind of place. I’m more at home in a transport café.’
‘We can have dinner sent to my room. They do a lovely club sandwich and fries.’
He grinned at her. ‘Now you’re tempting me.’
‘Don’t let me be alone.’ There was a catch in her voice as she said it.
‘I’ll come back at seven o’clock,’ he said gruffly. ‘If that suits you.’
‘That would be perfect,’ she said.
‘I look forward to it, Mrs Harvey.’
‘Melissa,’ she said. ‘Please, call me Melissa.’
Chapter Sixty-one
The doorbell rang and Kirsten was surprised. She hadn’t expected Tyler for ages. He must have been driving at breakneck speed all down the M1 in spite of the snow. She hoped there wasn’t going to be a tear-jerking scene. Her emotional bank account was on the verge of bankruptcy and Tyler always liked to do everything with high drama.
Peering out of the bedroom window, she was surprised that she couldn’t see his car anywhere, nor him pacing up and down on the path like a madman. She slid the drawer of her dressing table closed and slipped into her outdoor shoes, turning to appraise the room. The bed sheets were still rumpled from her and Simon’s lovemaking and she resisted the urge to cross the room and stroke the pillow where his head had lain for such a short, short time. She quelled the sour taste that came to her mouth and the feeling of utter desolation that gripped her insides like a vice. It looked as if she would be going out into the world, into her new life, alone. At least she was starting a new life. That was something to cling on to.
The doorbell rang again, impatiently. Car or not, that was definitely a Tyler-type ring. With one brief backward glance at the bedroom, she steeled herself, closed the door and clip-clopped down the stairs.
The strains of ‘The Power of Love’ drifted through the door. Was it carol singers? They hadn’t had any visit their door for years, wherever they’d been living. Yet after a few bars she could tell that this was no fresh-faced, juvenile chorister that stood on her threshold. It certainly wasn’t Tyler, because her husband couldn’t sing a note. And this man was singing beautifully.
Kirsten opened the door.
Simon stood on the step in front of her. He was carrying two large plastic bags, one marked Henderson’s family butchers in blood-red letters. It appeared to have the legs of a very large turkey sticking out of it. The other was from Sainsbury’s and looked as if it was laden with vegetables of every conceivable shape and colour. He was still wearing his dinner suit and was also sporting a diving mask and snorkel perched on his head. The singing stopped mid-sentence.
Kirsten laughed at him. ‘I thought for one minute you were Tyler.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s on his way home.’
Simon let the carrier bags fall to the floor. ‘Oh, Kirsten,’ he said sadly, standing stock-still as if frozen to the spot. ‘Don’t do this,’ he pleaded. ‘Don’t take him back. I had to go for a walk, I had to think. My brain was buzzing. This has all been a bit of a shock.’
‘I thought you’d gone.’ Her voice sounded small. ‘I thought you’d walked out on me all over again. I couldn’t stand it.’
‘Never,’ he said earnestly. ‘I didn’t leave you before and I’m planning never to leave your side for the rest of your life. Did what I said mean nothing?’ His face was as bleak as the wintry sky above them. ‘You’ve given me another chance and I’m going to make sure I grab that with both hands. We can go to the Seychelles, we can go to Spain or even Southend. Wherever you want.’
‘You’re too much of a realist to do this, Simon,’ she said.
‘I’m not,’ he said passionately. ‘I’ve called Lance and turned down the chairman’s job. I’m not going to Fossil Oil.’
She stood there speechless.
‘Kirsten Benson, I have just jacked in a very lucrative and esteemed career to chase some mad idea of opening a business doing goodness knows what, halfway round the world, in order to make the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known fall in love with me all over again. And I am standing in a very pleasant Hampstead side street on Christmas Eve wearing a snorkel.’ He looked down forlornly. ‘With a turkey for company.’
Kirsten laughed hesitantly.
‘You can call me a lot of things, but a realist isn’t one of them. Realist, no. Dreamer, yes.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I’ve dreamed for years that one day we’d be together again.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve blown it.’
‘No, you haven’t blown it.’ She wound her arms round him and held him tightly. ‘However, you did cut it a bit fine. A few minutes more and I’d have been gone.’ Kirsten reached behind the door and produced her suitcase.
‘You’re leaving?’
Kirsten nodded. ‘I told Tyler he could come home,’ she said with a sad smile. ‘I just didn’t tell him I wouldn’t be here waiting for him.’
‘Where were you planning to go?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said candidly. ‘Maybe to the Seychelles. Alone.’
‘Wherever we go, whatever we do,’ Simon said, ‘let’s make sure it’s together.’
‘You really phoned Lance to turn him down?’ Kirsten asked.
‘Yes. When push came to shove, it wasn’t half as difficult as I thought it was going to be. Fossil Oil or you? No contest.’
Simon folded her into his embrace and at that moment she believed that he would never let her go again. Somewhere deep inside her she was still as dry and as crusty as week-old bread; she would need to soak in the milk of Simon’s kindness for a long time to have any hope of rescuing that inner gentleness that had once been there. Gazing up at Simon, despite looking ridiculous with his diving-mask-and-snorkel attire, she could see the love for her shining in his eyes.
‘I think we’d better make a move,’ Kirsten advised, reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. ‘Tyler won’t be far away, and I can’t face another confrontation.’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I still don’t know.’ She gave an uncertain laugh.
‘Well, at the risk of being called a realist again, I suggest we go back to my place in Milton Keynes and lie low for a few days.’
‘You certainly know how to bring a girl back down to earth with a bump,’ Kirsten replied wryly. ‘Milton Keynes? Mind you, I do like the sound of the lying-low bit.’
Simon regarded the sleek black sports car balefully. ‘There’s just one snag,’ he said. ‘Either that turkey or this case will fit in my boot. Not both.’
Kirsten frowned.
‘What do you want to do? Eat, or dress nicely?’
‘I have an extensive range of designer lingerie in that suitcase,’ she informed him.
‘Sorry, old pal,’ Simon said to the turkey as he left it on the pavement along with the carrier bag of vegetables.
He pi
cked up the case and swung it into the boot of the two-seater. Then he turned to her, his face lit up. ‘You know, if we’re travelling light, we could just go straight to the airport and get the first flight out of here.’
Kirsten stared at him agog. ‘Where to?’
‘It doesn’t matter. It would be a symbolic gesture to mark the start of our new, free-spirited life together.’
A shiver of fear and excitement went through her. ‘Could we do it?’
‘Why don’t we try? I’m game if you are.’
‘I am.’
It started to snow again. Heavy, lazy, lacy flakes that drifted serenely to the ground. So it was set to be a white Christmas after all.
‘I wonder what the odds are on a white Christmas in London this year?’ Kirsten said.
Simon pulled her to him and kissed her softly. ‘I wonder what are the odds on you and me finding that we’re still hopelessly in love after all these years?’
She stared at him thoughtfully. ‘Will you still love me when I’m old and grey?’
He stared back at her. ‘I will. Will you still love me when I’m bald and have dentures on the bedside table?’
‘I still love you even though you’re wearing a snorkel in Hampstead,’ she said.
‘That’s good enough for me.’ His warm mouth found hers again.
Kirsten closed her eyes and let Simon’s arms fold round her, nestling into his body. She didn’t think she’d ever felt such happiness.
It made her think of Tyler and whether he realised that this time it was over for good. A momentary cloud of sadness flitted over her brightness, and she wondered what the future would hold for him. An empty life of booze and broken relationships? She hoped not. Who knew, he may enjoy his life better now that he was free to dedicate himself fully to Fossil Oil without compromise. Maybe, for some people, that was what life was all about. Work, work and more work. She looked at Simon, a smile curling her lips and the love she felt for him rising to the surface like the bubbles in champagne. There was certainly more to life for her.
The Christmas Party Page 33