I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing else? This seems more than a headache. Look, I’m here if you want to talk. As your manager, but also as a friend.’
He leaned forward. His aftershave, lemon and spice, floated towards me. My knee bumped into his as I shifted on the sofa. I jerked back and, as I did, some water from the glass spilled onto my shirt, a wet patch spreading on the white silk. He grabbed a tissue and instinctively started to dab the spot, which was on my chest, just above my breast.
Harry and I both realised what he was doing at the same time and I snatched the tissue away. To fill up the silence I blurted out, ‘Things are a little difficult at home.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
His phone buzzed and he glanced at it.
‘I’ve taken up too much of your time. I’m sorry about… I’m so embarrassed. This headache is making me crazy. I won’t be like this in front of the client.’
‘I thought we were friends, Fi. You can talk to me.’
I needed to talk to someone.
‘Everything’s fine. It’s just – just Tom and I had a fight… I don’t know, it’s hard… He’s looking for a job and the market’s not great at the moment.’
‘He shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I hope you don’t mind me speaking openly?’
I shook my head.
‘You’re an incredible woman, Fi. You’ve come back to work, you’re earning money for the family, you’re looking after your parents, you’re a devoted mother, and you seem to worry about Tom too. He should be thanking you, not fighting with you.’
‘Tom’s lovely, really he is. This isn’t like him.’
I had been thinking the same things as Harry, but when he criticised Tom, I had to defend him. What if Harry was right, though? I was terrified that this had broken us. Perhaps Tom and I hadn’t been as solid as I had imagined all these years. If we had been, then why had we failed at this first test in our relationship?
‘I suppose you know him best. But marriage is supposed to support us in the tough times, isn’t it?’ said Harry.
I kept looking down. He was right, but it felt wrong to discuss Tom like this.
‘My loyalty is always going to be with you.’
‘It’s just a difficult time for us,’ I said.
He nodded.
‘For what it’s worth, you can always talk to me if it helps? Right now, though, you should rest. My driver can take you home.’
‘Thanks. You’ve been so kind.’
I dabbed my shirt a little more. As I stood up, so did Harry. He had to move away from the sofa so I could pass by and, as I got near him, I saw him look down at my shirt. Two of the buttons had become undone and my breasts, in a nude lace bra, were visible. I clutched at my shirt but the movement was too fast and I lost my balance. Harry put his arms out to steady me and had to pull me towards him to stop me falling.
I wanted to make a joke about how I had now made a fool of myself in every possible way, or that he would think I was drunk, or say ‘Oops, sorry,’ but I stayed silent. His arms tightened and I let my head fall on his chest. I needed someone to hold me. It was as if I were watching myself from the outside, as he started to stroke my back.
‘It’s going to be OK.’
I nodded into his shirt.
‘Sorry,’ I said into his tie, raising a hand to my head. ‘I’m a little dizzy.’
He was silent. His hand, which had been between my shoulder blades, began to slide down the silk of my shirt slowly, over the bump of my bra and then rested on my waist. I stood absolutely still, not breathing, not moving away. He was more angular than Tom, who was more solid, with broader shoulders and familiar muscles. It felt strange to be in Harry’s arms, but also comforting.
‘Fi…’
Before he could say any more, there was a loud rap-rap on his door.
‘Harry? It’s Olivia. May I come in?’
The room was dark and I was standing in clear view of the door, with Harry’s arms around me, my blouse was open. I knew that Olivia would come in any second and see everything. Without thinking I rushed into a small alcove at the back of the room where the coffee machine was, behind Harry’s desk. I pushed myself against the wall. Harry moved just as quickly and sat down at his desk. I was now completely hidden from view.
‘Woah, it’s dark in here!’ said Olivia.
‘Too much sun on my computer,’ said Harry.
‘I just need you to sign this letter.’
Harry’s fountain pen scratched the paper and Olivia’s heels walked away, then the door shut.
My cheeks burned. I didn’t know how to face Harry. I shouldn’t have let him hold me like that. I had no business acting like this with another man, however angry I was with my husband.
Tom had an excuse for the way he was acting, but I had no way to justify my behaviour. Not only could this destroy my marriage, but it would ruin my friendship with Harry, and I might end up losing my job.
I stepped out of the alcove.
‘I’m sorry, Harry. You must think I’m completely mad!’
I couldn’t look at him. I tried a laugh and started to walk towards the door.
‘I’m the one who should apologise,’ he said. ‘I hope I wasn’t inappropriate. I just hated seeing you so upset.’
‘No, I’m sorry I hid like that. I thought Olivia might get the wrong impression. You were just being kind and I’m so embarrassed.’
‘There’s no need to be embarrassed. Totally understandable. Let me call my driver.’
He seemed eager for me to leave and I obliged. I told him that I would prefer to walk for a while and then get a taxi. I didn’t want his driver to drop me at a house less than ten minutes from Harry’s.
*
On the way home, I tried to think rationally. Harry had just held me while I cried, like a friend would. There had been no kiss, no fondling, nothing inappropriate.
I brushed aside any thoughts about how it had felt to bury myself into Harry and feel his body against mine. That was just a physical reaction. It didn’t mean anything. I had only been craving the comfort of Tom’s touch and kindness, which he had unilaterally withdrawn from me for weeks.
When I got home, I hesitated before going inside. Tom didn’t know that I was coming back early and it almost felt as if I were spying on him.
‘Hi, Tom! You home?’
I heard sounds coming from the laundry room at the back, a room Tom had not really known existed until recently.
He was folding the washing and I hugged him from behind, wrapping my hands around him so that they rested against the fabric belt on his Levis. I laid my cheek against his back and kissed his spine. He didn’t recoil.
He turned around to face me. He looked like himself again.
‘How come you’re home?’
‘TOIL for New York.’
‘Well, I just had a very good call with a headhunter,’ he said. ‘They called me about a great role.’
We high-fived.
That was the thing about Tom and me. However bad our fights, we were both so happy when they were over that we never rehashed anything. I always wanted to forget about our arguments anyway. I used to think that this was a sign of our deep connection, but now I wondered if it was a weakness, never to probe our fault lines.
He started to kiss me but I jerked my head back. If he knew that less than an hour ago Harry had been pressed up close against me, it would devastate him, and I had a sudden desire to shower.
‘I’m an idiot. I should never have said those things to you,’ he said.
‘Ditto,’ I said. ‘I’m an idiot and I should never have said those things to you.’
He put his arms around me.
‘You smell of aftershave,’ he said.
Harry had seeped into my hair and my pores and Tom could smell him on me.
‘Oh, it was this ageing Lothario type on the tube. He was sitting next to me and r
eeked of aftershave. In fact, I think I’ll take a quick shower otherwise I won’t be able to stop thinking about how sick it made me feel. Urgh!’
*
I was worried about seeing Harry again, but the next day, he just smiled and said, ‘Are you all set for New York?’
I smiled back.
‘I can’t wait.’
We were back to normal.
Fifty-Six
The doorbell rang. It was late, 9 p.m., and raining outside. Tom and I looked at each other in surprise, then he went to answer the door.
I heard Sam’s voice. We weren’t meeting until the weekend and I stood up, immediately afraid that Julia had informed the Head and Sam had come to warn me. She came into the room, her face blotchy as if stung by nettles. I stared at her, breathing fast suddenly. What if the police had been brought in?
‘I’m just going upstairs to check on the boys,’ said Tom, shutting the door behind him.
‘I’m sorry to burst in on you like this,’ she said. ‘But I know where the money is.’
I had to sit down. She sat next to me and covered my hand with hers, as if we were still friends.
‘Where’s the money?’ I said.
‘I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. I had the money. It’s at my house. I’ve told Julia.’
I couldn’t believe that she had stolen it, then accused me.
Her face was red, flooded. She looked down.
‘You took the money?’
‘No! Well, yes – no. I mean yes, but not on purpose.’
‘I don’t understand. If you had the money, why did you let that vile cow speak to me like that? Why did you accuse me? What the hell is going on, Sam?’
She looked at me.
‘It’s all been a terrible mix-up. That day, after I’d sold the tickets and I was putting the money in the safe, Mum called. She was crying, saying that her father hadn’t come home all night. My grandad has been dead for fifteen years. I’ve never heard Mum talk like that. I panicked, Faiza. It was awful to hear her talk such complete gibberish. I got scared about what else she might do in that state of mind. I didn’t know if she’d walk out of the house or set fire to it. Anyway, I locked the safe and drove straight to her house.’
‘Oh, Sam. Is she OK?’
‘Yes.’ Sam nodded. ‘She’s back to normal, just like someone flipped a switch. Anyway, in my panic I didn’t put all the money in the safe. Some got left in my bag but I didn’t realise. I only use this bag,’ she held up her luggage-trolley-sized blue tote, ‘on my day off. It’s so full of rubbish that I didn’t see the money till tonight, when I was looking for a pen. It was right at the bottom and I only realised then what had happened. I called Julia immediately and then I drove here like a maniac. I knew you wouldn’t talk to me if I called… Not that I blame you.’
I stared, trying to take it all in.
‘I’ve been so worried,’ I said. ‘I thought Julia would spread rumours about me and tell the Head. She might have done that already.’
‘No, she hasn’t said anything.’
Sam moved closer.
‘The most important thing is that I want to say sorry.’
Her eyes were bright, which was the nearest I had ever seen to her crying.
‘I’ve been going crazy, Faiza. What with Mum and James – I don’t know how much more I can take!’ She paused, breathing fast. It seemed as if she wanted to tell me more, but was struggling to find the words. Then she shook her head, as if pulling herself together. ‘I mean, his obsession with impressing his parents. It’s affecting us too. I don’t know if I want all this anymore.’
‘Poor you and poor James,’ I said.
I didn’t understand how things had become so bad between them.
‘It’s hard, Faiza. James has changed and I’m not sure if we can get through this.’
I put my arm around her as she sighed.
‘His parents have started doing the same thing with our children. Praising the ones who get an A star, ignoring the ones who don’t make the top team. And now James does it too. At the parents evening, he took a notebook to compare the boys’ exam results against the others in their class. It was like he was checking how his investments were doing. I’m scared he’s going to mess them up the way his parents have messed him up.’
‘Not with a lovely mum like you,’ I said.
We talked a little more and then she got up.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have listened to Julia, though. I hope you can forgive me,’ she said.
‘Let’s forget all about it,’ I said, and meant it.
Sam was going through a lot; she’d made a mistake but had apologised. Besides, I had thought about taking the money, hadn’t I? Despite my hurt and fury, she hadn’t been that far off the mark.
I was worried about Sam and James. It was frightening how quickly a close marriage like theirs had unravelled. The thought chilled me as I fell asleep.
Fifty-Seven
As I packed for New York, Tom was lying in bed, scrolling through the news.
‘Hey, do you remember that time we got lost in Central Park and then ended up in the kitschy horse-carriages? Then we had the lobster rolls from the pop-up place near the Apple store?’
He looked up and smiled.
I folded a navy wrap dress that I was planning to wear for the pitch and a red silk sheath that would work for the client dinner.
‘Darling, don’t forget Ahmed has football camp all next week and we pick and drop Daniel too.’
The summer holiday schedules were tricky if you factored in all the meals, playdates, activities, pickups and drop-offs for all the children.
‘Is it just you and Harry on this trip?’ said Tom.
‘Yes, but we’re not travelling together.’
My face flushed. I turned away and bent down to get my earrings out of a drawer, aware that he was watching me. I examined the earrings in my hand, letting my hair fall forward.
‘So, you and your new best friend get to have a trip together,’ he said. ‘That’s nice.’
‘He’s not my best friend, he’s my boss. You’re my best friend,’ I grinned.
He didn’t reply. I understood he might feel jealous but how many times had he been away with young female colleagues, when I had been pregnant or home with toddlers, too tired to even brush my hair? I had felt as he had, but I hadn’t taunted him like this.
I tried to reassure him by going up to hug him.
‘You’re not feeling a little jealous, are you?’ I laughed and took his hand, but he pulled it away.
‘It’s not funny. Please have a little more respect for me than that.’
‘Tom, I was joking because the whole idea is ridiculous. He’s a work colleague. I’m going to New York for work, I’m not running away with another man!’
Even as I said the words, I felt a pinprick of guilt. I had explained my time with Harry as just a good friendship at the office. Tom would be furious, though, if he knew that when Harry and I worked late, we sat side by side on his sofa with our feet on his coffee table, balancing our laptops on our knees. I hadn’t mentioned the day Harry massaged my neck when I got a sudden crick. I was at his desk, his office door open. It was only a friend, easing my muscle pain, but he had slipped his fingers inside my shirt, to reach the spot on my neck where it hurt. Tom wouldn’t understand. In a way, I didn’t either, but we hadn’t done anything wrong.
As I zipped up my case, Tom said, ‘I need access to the emergency money in the Post Office account. You’re travelling a lot and I might need it while you’re away. Can you please add my name to the account?’
‘OK, sure,’ I said. My head pounded. ‘I’ll do it when I get back from New York.’
‘Please make sure you do. I’ve been asking you for months and you keep saying you will but you still haven’t.’
I couldn’t sleep all night. I’d be back from New York in three days. My bonus wouldn’t come in for another two months and the bank manager had said t
hat I had exceeded the maximum loan he could give. Even if I managed to get another loan somewhere else, I had no way to explain away not adding Tom to the non-existent Post Office account.
Tom didn’t say goodbye when I left for the airport. It was an early flight and he pretended to be asleep when I bent down to kiss his cheek. I stroked his hair. I wanted to climb back into bed with him and forget everything else.
‘Love you,’ I whispered, and then I left.
Fifty-Eight
I had never been to New York without Tom before. New York was our place, our first choice for an anniversary celebration or a rare getaway without the children. As I sat in the taxi, the worn ID photo of the driver called Mohammad and the small TV screen talking animatedly to me about a fire in Brooklyn, were all familiar sights. I placed my hand palm down on the plastic-covered seat. It felt strange not to have Tom’s hand squeezing mine as we hurtled away from the airport.
I turned on my phone and checked my messages, hoping for a text from Tom, saying that he loved me, or to have a good time, or sorry. But there was nothing. I realised, with a jolt, that this no longer surprised me. Despite everything, I felt myself getting excited as we approached Manhattan. Tom and I were always impatient to catch our first glimpse of the Chrysler building and the skyline twinkled, as if welcoming me back.
I took a photo and wanted to send it to Tom but I remembered his comment about me ‘swanning off’ on my business trips. Instead, I texted him: Landed safely, on my way to hotel. Hope all OK at home. I couldn’t help adding Miss you. He replied straight back, with a thumbs-up emoji.
I’d been anxious at the prospect of staying at the same place as Harry, but was relieved when his assistant told me he always stayed at an exclusive hotel near Central Park. The team stayed at a different one in midtown.
In my room, I went straight to the window and looked down at constant traffic on the roads and the pavements, feeling the energy float up to me on the thirtieth floor. I sat on the bed and stroked the starched sheets, savouring the silence. It felt giddy not to be needed, without a constant to-do list running like ticker tape in my head.
Would I Lie to You? Page 21