‘Tom, wake up!’
I pushed my hands against his chest.
‘I’m feeling sick.’
He sat up, suddenly wide awake.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I have a pain in my chest.’
I was gasping and crying now. He felt my forehead with his palm and then put his hand on my breastbone. The room was starting to spin.
‘Do you have pain anywhere else? In your left arm or in your jaw?’ he asked.
I shook my head. As he spoke, I started to feel better.
He got me some Gaviscon and held me in his arms.
‘Let’s give it ten minutes and see how you feel,’ he said.
He kept holding me and after a few minutes the pain went away.
‘Maybe it was something you ate,’ he said.
I googled my symptoms. It sounded as though I’d had a panic attack. I may have made Tom feel better, but my trick hadn’t worked on me.
I was lying awake again, a couple of nights later, when my mobile flared just before midnight. It was Sam: Daniella is back. She wants to meet you tomorrow. Send your CV xx
Twenty-Eight
5 days to May 30th
I meandered along the sharp turns and winding streets near Bank station, out of step with the people rushing past like smudges of black and grey. They disappeared into neck-craning skyscrapers or ancient City fortresses guarded by spiked metal doors. The directions to Daniella’s office had been familiar. There are some things you never forget: Threadneedle, Cornhill, Leadenhall; long lost friends of another me.
Daniella spread my CV out on the polished mahogany table.
‘Sam told me you’re looking for a PWM job after a long career break? I have to be honest; it’s not going to be easy.’
As she talked, she glanced at her mobile. It was clear that although she was meeting me as a favour to Sam, that was the extent of her interest in me. I wasn’t ready to dismiss my life as quickly as she was.
‘I don’t mind going to a junior role. I’ll do a trial if they don’t want to commit to a permanent contract, and take a lower base if they prefer a bonus or commission structure.’
I slipped back into banking-speak to impress her.
‘Listen…’
She drew the word out too long, as if pulling back a deadly arrow before shooting it at me.
‘I admire what you’re trying to do but think about it from my clients’ perspective. Why would they hire you? I’m sorry, but—’
‘They’d hire me because I’m great at client relationships. I know the clients the bank is targeting. I have dinner with them at the weekends, I go skiing with them, their children go to school with mine. I speak their language – literally – some of them anyway. I have a degree in Russian.’
‘You do? Russian?’
She looked at my CV as if she was reading it for the first time. She probably was.
‘Are you fluent?’
‘Yes.’
I could be fluent again.
‘This might be a long shot, but I have a six-month contract. Someone on the team left suddenly so they’re desperate. The key requirement is Russian. They’re holding final interviews this afternoon. I know they don’t have anyone who can start immediately.’
Another plastic visitor’s badge and a lift to the twenty-fifth floor. The reception with views of St Paul’s, white Barcelona chairs, art on the walls, the FT and Economist on coffee tables, and the scent of money coming in through the air conditioning. It all made you sit up straighter, be a little more on guard. I felt like an extra on a film set.
My worries about the unexpected interview were compounded by another terrifying thought. What if the interview was in Russian? It had been years since I’d spoken a single word. I couldn’t remember a thing.
I was led into a boardroom with two men and two women sitting around an oval table. One wall was glass with vertiginous views of the City.
‘Hello, Faiza. I’m Sergio Lucattini, the team head.’
Sergio wore a perfectly fitted charcoal suit and a lock of black hair fell over his smooth forehead. I couldn’t remember bankers looking so glossy before.
He introduced me to the team, who all waved. Sergio offered me a seat at the head of the table and sat down to my right.
‘Tell us a little bit about yourself,’ he said.
My instinct was to look over everyone’s heads but I knew that I had to make eye contact. One woman smiled encouragingly, while the other checked her phone under the table. One of the men started directly at my breasts. It felt as if I was on a roundabout. The faces around the table spun and Sergio’s shiny black shoe started to move impatiently.
I cleared my throat and flicked my carefully blow-dried hair over my shoulder.
‘Thank you. I’ll start with the gory details then.’
Silence. This was a tough crowd to crack.
‘I read Russian at Oxford and joined the graduate scheme at Citi. From there I was headhunted by UBS where I grew sales by 150 per cent over a ten-month period and was made VP Sales and Trading on the accelerated track.’
My face was burning so much that I wondered if Sergio, sitting just a couple of feet away, could feel the heat coming off me. He smiled. I didn’t know if it meant anything, though. He looked like the sort of person who smiled whatever he was feeling, a bit like me.
‘I had a career break to raise my family. I was worried about the impact on my career, but in fact, it turned out to be an asset. I’ve been mixing with the sort of High-Net-Worth individuals we would target as clients – and, of course, I’m fluent in Russian.’
My heart was racing so fast, I thought it might trip and stop. Say something, please. When Sergio spoke though, it just made me more nervous. He fired a missile I could not dodge.
‘Why should I hire you rather than the other two candidates who are currently working in banks in PWM?’ said Sergio.
Clearly these people didn’t mince their words.
Because I’m desperate, because I need this job for my children and to save my marriage, I thought. Sergio was beginning to finger his mobile on the table and I could feel it all slipping away from me. Tom had told me to be confident when I’d called to tell him about the interview. This job could change everything. I took a deep breath.
‘I know ten people in my immediate network, at least, with over five million pounds to invest. People who know me socially, and in the City, who would take a meeting with me straight away,’ I said.
It did the trick. He was really listening now. I probably only knew one person who fitted that description: Natalya, who’d been my partner for a cancer research fund-raising walk, and who I still had coffee with from time to time. I was sure I could tap into her network though, if I asked her.
I crossed my legs and my skirt rode up a fraction to mid-thigh. Sergio’s eyes followed the movement.
‘Yes, that network is a potential goldmine. You’re older than the others in the team, but you don’t look like a mother, which is great.’
He probably thought that was a compliment.
‘And how would you feel about travelling, socialising? Would you be able to manage that? With your children?’
‘Of course. I know what this work involves. Travel, love to. Socialising, yes please! I have a full-time housekeeper; the family runs itself really. I can focus on work 100 per cent.’
I’d heard enough horror stories from the few working mothers at school to know that you never admitted a chink on the family front. You might take the day off if your child had the vomiting bug, but you told the office that you had a gas leak. Property care was acceptable – childcare never was. If I’d mentioned elderly parents too, he would have thrown me straight out.
My teeth were clenched as I waited.
‘We are getting a lot of requests from clients about investing for their children. You, being a mother, might be a selling point,’ he said, as if thinking aloud. ‘Allora! I’ve never hired anyone over thirty-fi
ve before, and I rarely hire mothers, but I’m going to give you a shot!’
I couldn’t stop smiling. The salary was higher than expected and would cover our basic monthly bills. If I met my targets, I’d get a bonus at the end of the six-month contract, with which I could replace the emergency fund. The only worry was the one-month probation period. I would have to prove myself quickly, but I’d do whatever it took.
I asked HR to print the contract out for me and rushed straight to the bank in the Village to show Roberto. As promised, now I had a job, he authorised another ten-thousand-pound loan.
I asked for it to go into the emergency fund first, and then I transferred it into the current account. That way, Tom would think that the money was from our savings, not a loan.
When I got home, Tom lifted me up and swung me around.
‘Well done, my brilliant Faiza!’
He ordered takeaway pizza to celebrate. Before we ate, he raised a glass of water and told the children to do the same.
‘We have very exciting news! Your clever Mum has got a fantastic job in the City. Here’s to Mum! Cheers!’
Ahmed and Sofia asked what I would be doing, where my office was and how much I would get paid. Alex was quiet.
‘What do you think, Alex?’ I said.
‘Who’ll pick me up from school? Lucy’s mum works and she never picks her up. She has to go home with Mrs Najeeb, her next-door neighbour. Mrs Najeeb never lets her have crisps.’
‘I’ll pick you up,’ said Tom.
‘But you don’t know about my snacks.’ Alex turned to me. ‘Will your boss let you stay home for Sports Day?’
His eyes held mine, as if daring me to admit that his life would be adversely impacted by this thing we were so brazenly celebrating.
‘I’m not sure…’
I didn’t want to tell him no outright, but Tom interrupted me.
‘No, darling, Mum can’t take time off straight away.’ Alex’s face crumpled. Tom grinned. ‘Tell you what, I’ll get all the instructions from Mum.’
Ahmed and Sofia, happy that one of their parents was working so they didn’t have to worry about their school fees, were full of laughter and jokes, so that by the end of dinner Alex had agreed to give Tom a chance to prove his skills as a replacement for me.
Tom turned and cupped my face in his hands.
‘I’m so proud of you! This is phenomenal, to go back after all this time.’
We couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. His face looked shiny, as if the layers of worry had been scrubbed away.
There was money in the bank and I had a job. Everything was going to be OK.
Twenty-Nine
2 days after May 30th
I asked Sam to meet me for a quick coffee on Sunday afternoon. I wanted to get some tips from her about how to behave at work. I needed to make the right impression from day one.
The sky was a perfect deep blue and the Common was teeming with children and dogs attached to adults in T-shirts and shorts. Sam and I got our coffees from the Windmill café and started to walk down a track with some shade.
She put her arm around me and gave a squeeze.
‘This is so exciting!’ she said. ‘Hamilton Hughes are at the top of their game.’
‘It’s all because you sent me to Daniella. Thank you soooo much. I’m very nervous about tomorrow, though. I don’t even know how to act or what to do after all this time. I need your advice.’
We sat down on a bench. In the distance, two swans glided on the lily-pad strewn pond. The air was still.
‘OK. Right, first, look confident; second, get to know everyone in the team – especially the secretary! Then make absolutely sure you tell your boss everything that shows you in a good light – be your own PR machine. Plus, of course, the number one rule. Never talk about your children, your husband, or your parents. Faiza, you’ll be fine, I promise.’
Sam was watching the swans. She had dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired, as she suppressed a yawn.
‘How are things with you?’ I asked.
She didn’t reply straight away, then, watching a small puppy going past us, her lips lifted into a sad smile.
‘Tired. Tired of everything. James, his parents, the party, the annexe, the children’s endless pick and drops.’
She yawned again.
‘And then I’ve dragged you out for career advice!’
‘No, it’s a tonic to see you.’
‘At least you have your birthday trip coming up,’ I said.
Sam and James went to Florence every year for her birthday weekend. It was the only thing he cleared his diary for.
She shook her head.
‘James can’t get away from work.’
I could see she was upset.
‘Oh, that’s such a shame! I hope you can go another time soon.’
She nodded, then sighed. I put my arm around her and laughed.
‘Just think of all the millions he’s making!’
She smiled, but only barely. I’d always been glad that Tom hadn’t been the sort of millionaire husband I never saw. Despite it all, though, James was devoted to Sam, something you’d never guess when you met him and saw the slightly arrogant, City-lawyer vibe he gave off.
Sam took a sip of her coffee and said, ‘What do you think Julia will say about your job?’
I frowned. ‘Julia? I’m sure she’ll find a way to bitch about me working. She’s talented that way.’
‘I mean, about you working for her husband,’ she said.
‘What?’
I swallowed my coffee too quickly and started to cough.
‘You know Harry’s a partner at HH, don’t you?’
‘Julia’s husband is going to be my boss? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. He was one of the founding partners. I thought you knew?’
All my excitement disappeared. I should have known it was too good to be true. A knot twisted in my stomach.
‘I’m screwed, Sam! If Julia finds out I’m working there she’s going to say something about me to her husband. He’s probably as obnoxious as her. She got me fired from Butterfly, I’m sure she did. This is awful. What can we do? Please don’t tell her.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ said Sam. ‘But Harry will recognise you and tell Julia, won’t he?’
‘I’ve never met him. He never comes to school stuff and I’m not invited to their parties.’
‘So…?’
‘So, how about I pretend that I don’t know who he is? I don’t tell him that Sofia’s at Brookwood with his daughter, or that I know Julia. I’m sure he’d never expect a school mum from Wimbledon Village to be working in his company.’
Sam’s lips twisted.
‘I don’t know. Your daughters are at the same school. You’re bound to bump into him one day.’
‘I have one month to prove myself and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. If you hadn’t told me that Julia’s husband worked at HH, I really wouldn’t have known, would I? So, I’ll just pretend I don’t know the connection. Trust me, it’ll be fine.’
I couldn’t shake off my unease, though. According to Julia, she and Harry were soulmates. I wondered if they gossiped about their day, the way Tom and I did? If so, would Harry mention that someone called Faiza had started at his office? Would he say that it was someone coming back to work after a break? If she had even the slightest suspicion, she would start digging and it wouldn’t take her long to uncover my secret.
‘What if her husband tells her about me, though?’ I said, suddenly unsure, as Sam hugged me goodbye.
‘I wouldn’t worry. I don’t think you’ll even see him, or speak to him. He’s a founding partner, you’re just a manager.’
‘Why did this have to happen?’
‘Relax. I’ll tell Julia you’re doing some admin role in Central London, to throw her off the scent.’
‘OK,’ I grinned.
In my car, I looked at Julia’s husband’s profile on the HH we
bsite. Harry Wentworth. His career was peppered with high-profile investment banks, he had a Harvard MBA – and had been at the same college at Oxford as me, although he’d graduated seven years before me. He looked like a million other bankers in the City, although slicker, like a Brooks Brothers advert. He wore tortoiseshell glasses and had thick salt-and-pepper hair. He fitted right into Julia’s brand.
As I drove home, Naila called. I had to get this over with so I put her on speaker.
‘Congratulations! I heard about your amazing job!’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
My voice was icy, despite my attempts to sound normal. There was silence for a few seconds. Naila cleared her throat.
‘Actually, I have some good news too. Adil got into Clissington’s! We just found out. I wanted you to be the first to know.’
She must have found out months ago. I wanted to call her out, tell her how hurt I was, but I couldn’t. Now that Adil was going to be at Clissington’s, I would have to deal with that awkwardness on a daily basis if we fell out.
‘That’s brilliant! Well done to Adil. Ahmed will be thrilled.’ Then, when I couldn’t carry on, ‘Sorry, Naila, Ami’s calling.’
I hung up. I felt stupid for having trusted her so completely.
I thought about us when we were fourteen, sitting cross-legged on my bed, giggling, feeling that we were soulmates, and then the conversation we’d just had.
I didn’t know if I would ever feel the same way about her again.
*
I didn’t tell Tom that Julia’s husband worked at HH. I knew he’d tell me not to lie, but he didn’t understand.
Tom tucked me into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin.
‘Get a good night’s sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.’
‘Will the kids be OK?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘Will you be OK with the kids?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will I be OK at work?’
‘Yes.’
I grinned.
‘OK, then.’
As I fell asleep, I decided to put Julia and her horrible husband out of my mind. I had happier things to think about. I smiled into my pillow. In a month’s time a regular salary would start coming into our account and, with each deposit, I hoped that I could build up a little safety net around my family and feel a little less guilty about what I had done.
Would I Lie to You? Page 12