The Closer You Get

by Mary Torjussen

  No one was there. I stood in the room, sweating and panting, my heart racing and my mind in a whirl. Where was he?

  I looked everywhere for a message, some sign he’d been there, but there was nothing.

  I collapsed onto the armchair. Had he only just left when I got to his house? Would he turn up here soon? I went to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror, my hair damp and wild, my face red. If he arrived now, he’d recoil, I thought, and held a cold, wet washcloth to my face until I calmed down.

  He didn’t arrive that night and for the rest of the weekend I waited there, too nervous to go out in case I missed him. I paced the room, counting my steps, wishing almost for the reassurance of my Fitbit. And then I’d shake myself and sit down again, try to watch a movie or a game show, anything to take my mind off the fact that Harry hadn’t shown up.

  Of course I still felt the pressure to look good when he did get here, so though I was staying in, my face was made up, my hair brushed, and I wore my nicest clothes. But deep inside I think I knew by then that he wouldn’t come, and by Sunday night, my shoulders were slumped and no matter how much makeup I had on, the dejected air I wore took the shine off my face.

  CHAPTER 7

  Ruby

  By Monday morning I was desperate to see Harry. I still had faith in him, still believed something had happened to prevent him from coming to me. If only I could see him, all would be explained.

  I hadn’t drawn the curtains the night before in case I overslept, and woke at five o’clock as the first flickers of dawn stole into my room. I leaped out of bed and showered, blow-dried my hair, and ironed my dress for work. By six I was sitting by the window, waiting impatiently for him to arrive. I’d been sure he’d come to the hotel early that morning, to explain what had happened. We’d be interrupted at work, I knew; we wouldn’t be able to talk privately until Sarah left to pick up her kids and this sort of conversation was too important for internal messaging. I tried to think of his diary and whether he had any meetings today, but for the last week I’d been working on automatic pilot and now I couldn’t remember any of his plans. But at least I’d be able to see him. To know he was all right. And to ask him when we’d be together.

  Gradually I realized Harry simply wouldn’t have time in rush hour traffic to get here to talk to me and then get back to work, so at seven o’clock I picked up my jacket and handbag and left the room, checking again with reception whether anyone had left a message for me. Nobody had. Of course they hadn’t; I had my phone with me, fully charged and silent as the grave. Before I left the room I stuck a note onto the mirror just in case he turned up while I was out. Call me, it said. I left my number to remind him, though he’d sworn he’d never forget it. Call me anytime. I love you x

  * * *

  • • •

  The car park at Sheridan’s was half-full. I couldn’t see Harry’s car there. I looked at my watch. He was usually here by now. My anxiety ramped up and I drove around a couple more times. He definitely wasn’t here. I parked away from the rest of the staff; I didn’t want anyone to notice that my car was crammed full of bags and cases.

  I saw my friend Sarah in the distance and hurried toward her. We walked into the building together.

  “Good weekend?” she asked. She knew nothing of my affair with Harry, of course. Nobody did.

  “It was okay.” I tried to keep my voice bright. I thought of the hours and hours I’d spent staring into space, waiting for the click of the door, for my phone to ring. For anything, really, to tell me what the hell was going on. “I was a bit bored, actually.”

  She looked at me as though I were mad. “Bored?”

  I forced myself to laugh. It felt odd talking to her; the only person I’d spoken to since Friday night had been the receptionist at the hotel. There was so much to say, but nothing I could tell her.

  I fumbled in my bag for my lanyard and hooked it around my neck. I followed Sarah as she walked through the security turnstile. She flashed her card, waited for the green light, and went through. Then I flashed my card. Except when I did it, the light shone red instead of green. I flashed it again. And again. It was still red.

  “Danny?” I called to the security guard. “There must be something wrong with my card. Can you let me through? I’ll get a new one when I’m upstairs.”

  Danny came over to me, his expression as polite as usual, but without his customary smile. “Step aside, will you, Mrs. Dean?”

  I frowned. Mrs. Dean? We were all on first-name terms at work. Without thinking, I stepped aside and immediately the crowd behind me formed a queue for the turnstile.

  He went over to the chairs that were for visitors, next to the entrance. “Take a seat here, will you?”

  Sarah was waiting for me on the other side of the reception area. “You go on,” I said to her. “I’ll get this sorted out and see you up there.”

  She nodded. “I’ll make coffee.”

  I sat and waited, though I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Danny had disappeared and I had no idea where he’d gone. Perhaps he needed a key to open the gate? And then I saw Mark, one of the guys from the Sales department, come in from the car park, carrying a huge box. Another security guard came over to the turnstiles and flashed his own card so that Mark could pass through.

  I walked over to the turnstile. “Can I come through with him?” I asked. “I’ll get my card sorted as soon as I get upstairs.”

  “Sorry, miss.” The security guy looked at me, then looked quickly away. “You’d better wait for Danny to come back.”

  I stared at him, but he walked away. Slowly I went back to my chair. I waited for another five minutes. People filed through from my office and waved hello. A couple of the directors’ PAs gave me curious glances but I just smiled and said, “Won’t be long.”

  And then the lift doors opened and our director of Human Resources, Eleanor Jones, got out. A group of young women instantly stood up straight and I saw one check her watch, clearly relieved she was early. Eleanor was a stickler for timekeeping. She was holding a cardboard box that looked like it held reams of photocopier paper. It was only as she looked across at me that I realized she was there to meet me.

  My stomach lurched. She came over to me and though I wanted to stand to greet her, I couldn’t; my legs were shaking too hard. She sat beside me, pink with embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry, Ruby,” she said. She passed the box to me. I looked down and saw my things from my desk drawers. My spare cosmetics. My sweater. A hairbrush. Headache pills. I winced. I knew my contraceptive pills would be in there, too. On top was an envelope with my name on it. “Your contract’s been terminated.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Ruby

  Eleanor didn’t stay long and neither did I. I started to ask why they were letting me go, but she stopped me.

  “You haven’t been here two years yet,” she said. “Legally we’re not obliged to give you that information. I’m sure you know the reason why, though. I don’t think we need to discuss it here, do you?”

  I glanced round at the inquisitive faces that were passing by and flushed. How had she known about our affair?

  “But you haven’t the right to fire me.” My voice rose. “It’s not my fault!”

  Eleanor looked as though she wanted to say something more, but she merely repeated, “You know that within the first two years we have the right to let you go at any time and for any reason. You’ve been here eighteen months.”

  “But . . .”

  She stood up. Clearly our meeting was at an end. She touched the envelope in the box. “I’ve written you a short reference and there’s a check for this month’s salary, a month’s notice, and any outstanding holiday pay, too.”

  I stood, too, not knowing what to do or say. She passed me the box and ushered me to the door. I saw a couple of friends walking in, hurrying when they saw Eleanor. I could tel
l she was tempted to chase after them to remind them to be on time, but instead she stood on guard at the door, watching as I walked to my car.

  * * *

  • • •

  Rage hit me as I drove away. I’d never been fired before; my work was always well done and I hadn’t had a day’s absence in the eighteen months I’d worked there. I didn’t let myself acknowledge that that was because I hadn’t wanted to miss a day with Harry. I drove to a supermarket car park a couple of miles away and parked as far as I could from anyone else. My heart pounded as I took out my phone.

  I was so filled with shame and rage that although I’d promised I’d never do this while he was still with Emma, I dialed Harry’s mobile number. Immediately, his voice boomed out.

  “Hi,” he said.

  My heart banged. “Harry?”

  And then he continued. “This is Harry Sheridan. You’ve reached my voice mail. Please leave a message.”

  I managed to control myself. I knew I mustn’t leave a message. Quickly I ended the call and tapped in Harry’s direct number at work. After two rings the call was picked up.

  “Good morning, Harry Sheridan’s office.”

  I held my breath for a second. It wasn’t him. I recognized the voice; it was Paula, Eleanor’s assistant. We weren’t exactly friends, but we got along okay.

  “Paula? It’s me, Ruby.”

  “Oh,” she said, and my heart sank. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Did you want something?”

  “Can I speak to Harry?” I wasn’t even going to pretend that I didn’t know why she was odd with me. “Can you put me through?”

  She gave a sharp intake of breath, as though this was personally affecting her. “I’m sorry. All of Mr. Sheridan’s calls are coming through me now.” There was a pause and then she said formally, “Would you like to leave a message?”

  For a split second I thought of giving her the message I really wanted to pass on and Paula going to the cafeteria at lunchtime and repeating it to everyone, but I managed to restrain myself.

  “That’s all right,” I said politely. “Don’t worry.”

  I ended the call before she could. It was the only satisfaction I could take.

  * * *

  • • •

  I went back to the hotel then, not sure what to do. I stopped at reception on my way in and asked whether anyone had called, but they hadn’t. There was no reason why Harry would have called the hotel, but I always felt I had to ask. I hurried to my room, still hoping he’d be there, and as I turned the corner I saw the door to my room was open. My heart leaped but then the maid came out, pushing a laundry cart laden with fresh towels and toiletries. We said hello and she left the door open. I could see in an instant that he hadn’t been there.

  I sat on the bed and opened the envelope, just in case Harry had left a message for me. Of course he hadn’t. The reference was signed by Eleanor and was brief enough to make my face smart. It would be clear to anyone that I hadn’t left of my own accord. I pulled everything out of the box. It was humiliating to think of someone going through my desk like that, packing up my things, knowing I’d been fired. I wondered how early they’d been in to work, to do that so quickly. When had they been told? What had they been told? I sent a quick text to Sarah to ask her to call me.

  I took one of the contraceptive pills out of its packet. This was the time of day I’d usually take it. At the weekends, I’d smuggle a couple of pills underneath an eyeshadow palette. I couldn’t let Tom find them. Now I held it to my mouth and wondered whether I should take it or not. Was there any point? But I thought of Harry saying “I promise” and summoned my faith in him. I slid the pill into my mouth and swallowed it.

  My phone rang, startling me. I leaped off the bed thinking it must be Harry but saw Sarah’s name on the screen.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “When I got here someone from HR was at your desk, emptying the drawers.”

  “Who was it?”

  “That dark-haired guy. The intern. I think his name’s Nathan. He wouldn’t tell me what’s happened. He looked terrified; I think he thought it was my desk. Have they moved you to another department?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I’ve been fired.”

  “What? What for?”

  I hesitated. “Oh, they didn’t say. They just said they’d ended my contract.”

  “They can’t do that!”

  “They can,” I said. “I’ve only worked there for eighteen months. They can dismiss staff at any time up to two years.”

  “What? Just like that?”

  “Seems so.”

  There was a silence then and I knew she was calculating how long she’d been there. “But why?” she asked eventually. “Why would they do that?” I started to speak, but she interrupted me in a low, hurried voice, “Not now. I have to go. I’ll call you later.” And she was gone.

  * * *

  • • •

  By the early afternoon I felt as though I was going crazy. I’d driven past the offices a couple of times, trying to see whether Harry’s car was there. I couldn’t see it. He normally parked by the entrance to the building; there were only a few spaces there and it was tacitly understood that they were left for senior management or clients, but sometimes, if he came to work a bit later, he’d just grab any space he could. I didn’t want to go onto the car park itself; I’d seen one of the security guys out there and although I doubted they were waiting for me, I wasn’t going to take any risks. Even just driving up and down the road was stressful enough—I was lucky that my car was small and black, like thousands of others—but at least they couldn’t stop me from driving on a public road. By five o’clock, I was parked farther up the hill, able to see the cars as they formed a line to leave the car park. There was no sign of Harry’s car. Again I drove up and down, feeling like a fool. By six thirty the car park was empty except for the cars belonging to the security guards and cleaners, and I knew there was no point hanging around.

  And then I thought, Maybe he’s left early and gone to the hotel! I raced back, my heart pounding, but knew as soon as I opened the door and called his name that he wasn’t there. My message was still there, though, stuck to the mirror: a pathetic reminder to a man who clearly didn’t love me that I wasn’t about to give up on him.

  * * *

  • • •

  That evening I made inroads into the minibar and dialed Harry’s number again and again, though it was still switched off. I just wanted to hear him say his name. Love was now mixed with utter rage and I was just sane enough to not leave a message. My phone rang as I was reaching for a can of tonic water. My glass toppled and gin spilled onto the bed as I grabbed my phone. When I saw the caller’s name on the screen, my heart sank. It was Tom. I hesitated, then answered it.

  “Hi, Ruby. How are you?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.” Try as I might, I knew I didn’t sound convincing. “How are you?”

  “Oh.” He laughed nervously. “I’m missing you, actually. The house seems really empty without you.”

  Tears prickled the back of my eyes. If he wanted to know what loneliness felt like, he should try being in my position. I coughed and said, “You’ll be fine, Tom.” I knew he would be. He’d always make sure he was.

  “I just wondered . . . Do you want a divorce? You didn’t say.”

  The odd thing was that although I’d thought of this since long before Harry and I decided to live together, Tom’s question now was like a punch in the stomach. I had enough to deal with, without having that as well. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose so.”

  “Well, if we’re living separately it seems the obvious thing to do. It’s pretty clear you don’t want to be with me anymore.” There was a long pause and I had to stop myself from saying I didn’t know what I wanted. “Do you want me to file? I think you’re meant to be living apa
rt for two years first, but people seem to move much faster than that.”

  Panic flared in my stomach. “I don’t have any money for a lawyer. Can’t we sell the house first?”

  There was silence and I looked at the phone screen to check we were still connected. “I could get a couple of estate agents to call round and give quotes if you want? It would make it clearer when we divide everything up, I suppose. It’s up to you, Ruby.”

  I looked around the hotel room, at the pile of empty miniatures that lay on the bedside table, at the box I’d been given by Eleanor. It was so pathetic. I’d made such a mess of my life.

  “What is it?” he said softly. “Hey, don’t cry, babe.”

  Babe? I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me that. At the beginning it had been his pet name for me and each time he said it I’d melted inside. It had been a long time since I’d reacted like that but that day somehow those old feelings came back. His voice sounded so kind and it reminded me of when we first got together, when he’d been gentle and loving. When I thought I was special.

  “Talk to me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t say anything.

  “Have you changed your mind? Do you want to come back?” He made it sound so easy. So enticing. “We can talk things through, Ruby. Just come home.”

  “No,” I said quickly, before I could tell him to come and pick me up and never let me go again. “No. Sorry, I have to go.”

  I ended the call but sat on the bed holding my phone tightly, my face wet with tears. Just for a moment I couldn’t remember why I’d left and why I couldn’t return.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ruby

  Later that evening Sarah called me again.