by Ellen March
“Mmmm, might be worth a try,” Roman said thoughtfully.
* * *
Sally sat despondently on her bed. She shifted her gaze from her mobile and listened to it ring, but she didn’t want to pick it up. She knew it would be Norma. Eventually she gave in and answered.
“Hi, yes. What, you want me to meet you tomorrow?” she asked dismally. Norma’s shrill vice screeched through the phone. “Okay, yeah, I’ll ring you and sort it out. Yes, I was at the party. Bye.” She clicked the mobile off. Oh yes, she’d been at the party all right. It was one night she’d never forget, she thought bitterly.
Antonia hadn’t come back, so the laptop and email were still out of the question. That left her only one alternative: to communicate verbally. She agreed to meet Norma and hoped she could manage to get away without causing any curiosity.
* * *
The following morning Sally casually asked Paul if there was a passing bus service. That sent him into hysterics, which she could do without, especially when Roman walked in at the same moment.
“What’s so funny?” he asked conversationally with a pointed look at Sally, noticing that she was still refusing to acknowledge him. Even with those glasses hiding Sally’s eyes, he knew she wasn’t looking at him.
“Sally wanted to know if there was a bus stop outside.” Paul shook his head in disbelief.
“Why?” asked Roman with a frown.
“Look, I only want to go into town. Is there a problem with that?” She wondered why Paul in particular found it so funny.
“Take one of the cars,” Roman offered magnanimously, certain this would be the olive branch.
“I don’t drive,” she muttered.
Roman breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for that, at least. Then he thought of another way to get around her frostiness. “Well, I’ll run you in. Just let me know when you want to go.”
“Run me down more like,” Sally muttered beneath her breath, then said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll find another way.”
“I insist,” Roman said smoothly, suddenly determined to get his way.
Sally glared at him. The problem of getting into the nearby town seemed to be escalating into mammoth proportions. “I’ve just changed my mind.” Rising, she left him sitting with his mouth open yet again.
“What the hell is wrong with that woman!” he shouted to Paul, frustrated that she wouldn’t speak to him.
“I think you’ve met your match at long last.” Paul was enjoying the fact that the usually cool and arrogant Roman was reduced to a confused and irritable wreck. Life really was good, he thought happily, so pleased to witness Roman’s discomfort firsthand.
“You’re talking through your ass,” snapped Roman. “I’m going for a ride.” He stormed out of the kitchen, determined to rid himself of his temper and his frustration.
* * *
Sally watched him go from the safety of the greenhouse. She wondered how much longer she’d be working with Paul and when Antonia would return. She desperately needed to use the computer. At least then she could type up her notes and email them to Norma instead of trying to arrange this meeting and scribbling notes down on loose scraps of paper.
She just wanted closure from this farce and to leave so she’d never have to set eyes on Roman again.
As she wandered back into the house, she noticed Paul had disappeared. Only Marilyn remained. “Don’t suppose you know the telephone number for a taxi?” she asked casually, praying she’d get out of there before anyone returned. She was only too aware that she was a hopeless spy.
“Yes, it’s on the pad by the door,” Marilyn mumbled, distracted by the daytime television drama she watched like a hawk.
* * *
An hour later, without telling anyone, Sally found herself safely seated in the front of a white taxi on the way to Stevenage. It was the nearby village where she had arranged to meet Norma. She hastily dialled her number.
“Yes, I’m on my way now. Okay, yes, I have,” she muttered as she listened to her high-pitched voice screaming down the phone. “See you soon.” With relief she turned off the phone.
“What’s he like then?” asked the taxi driver, smiling at her. He bared a row of broken, blackened teeth.
“Who?” Sally wondered what he was talking about.
“The millionaire that lives in that house.” Changing gears, he swung into another road.
“Oh, him,” she sniffed as she gazed distractedly out at the passing landscape. “All right, I suppose. Don’t have much to do with him.”
“Ah, bit of a snob is he?” he said with a knowing wink.
Sally smiled in agreement, and remained neutral. She did not want to talk about Roman. Her emotions were too raw.
She was thankful when the taxi stopped. The driver, as nice as he was, didn’t stop talking the entire ride. He yammered about everything and anything, and all of it bored Sally senseless. She really didn’t want to know about the drought affecting the country, or the ban on fox hunting, and definitely not about some unheard of club closing down. Then it was the rising cost of petrol and the cost of fish and chips.
Eventually she switched off, just nodding and smiling. She just hoped he wasn’t asking for a quick shag behind the hedge and that she wasn’t agreeing to some form of mind-blowing sex with the toothless wonder. Soon enough he dropped her off.
As she ambled around the quaint town, she wondered why Roman had picked this place to live. Then she quashed that thought, not wanting to think about him. After a while she discovered a small café and texted Norma to tell her where she was.
She sat drinking coffee after coffee, waiting for Norma’s arrival, and every so often her glance lit impatiently on the large station clock hanging on the wall opposite. The seconds ticked by slowly.
* * *
Paul wandered back into the kitchen, his stomach growling loudly, and wondered where Sal had got to. He hadn’t seen her since the morning, assuming she was in the office tackling the work she was originally employed to do. When he checked, she was nowhere in sight.
“Where is she?” he asked Marilyn. Her arms pummelled at the dough and white flour sprayed into the air.
“Who?”
“Sally of course.” He glimpsed out the window and could see Roman loping towards the house across the grass.
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her since she asked for the taxi number.” Marilyn concentrated on her pastry.
“Oh shit!” Paul knew only too well how Roman would receive that bit of news and decided to dodge the truth. Instead he’d wait for her to reappear.
“What’s up? How come it’s so quiet here?” asked Roman, instinctively scanning the room, searching for signs of Sally. For someone who hadn’t been in his employment long, she had made one hell of an impression. Much like a tornado, he decided acidly.
Paul shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. “So, did you enjoy your ride?”
“Yeah, but that horse is something else. You can’t trust him a bloody inch.” He grinned and poured a cold drink, thinking of the way the horse had tried to throw him, not once but several times.
“Corned beef pie for food. You can have it warm if you want. Suppose Sally will have hers when she gets back,” said Marilyn innocently whilst rolling the pastry and piling in the filling.
“Back from where?” Roman asked, glaring accusingly at Paul.
“Don’t look at me. I know as much as you,” he said, holding his hands up in defence.
“And you?” he asked Marilyn sharply.
“Why would I know? She only asked for a taxi number,” she replied irritably, glancing up at him before continuing with her baking.
“Wait till she gets back,” swore Roman. He was fuming. She wouldn’t take a lift off him, yet as soon as his back was turned she rang a taxi. He pondered why she suddenly needed to go into the village.
* * *
Sally sat leaning heavily on her hand, bored to distraction. A variety of people came and
went. And still she waited. She didn’t mind people–watching, but this was taking the piss. Glancing down at her watch, she wondered how much longer the café would be open.
She was fed up, and her backside ached from sitting down so long on the hard seat. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling the numbness creeping in.
A young waitress cleaning the nearby table glanced over sympathetically. “Been stood up, love?” she asked whilst casually wiping the laminate surface.
“Looks like.” Sally was unwilling to explain her situation and found it easier to agree. Then she realized with a start that she’d been waiting for Norma for over four hours. She dug out her mobile and checked her phone. The text message read, “Can’t make it today. Ring me and we’ll get together another time.”
Sally felt like kicking herself because she hadn’t bothered to check her phone and wondered if Roman even realized she wasn’t at the house. She stood and stretched, placing a hand at the small of her back, and eased her legs into action. She quietly left the café.
Roman spotted her almost immediately as she came out of the café, stood on the pavement, and started looking around. He slid the car over to the kerb and rolled down the window.
“Get in!” he rasped. He’d waited and waited for her to return, then eventually decided to search for her himself. He was still eaten up by his guilt trip.
Sally’s first thought was that he was a kerb crawler, and she was about to tell him where he could go when her attention was drawn to Roman’s furious face.
“It’s okay. I’ll find my own way.” She continued to walk until he blasted his horn loudly.
“You’ll get in now or don’t bother coming back,” he barked, incensed at her stubborn behaviour. Again, he wondered what she’d been doing for the last few hours.
Glaring at him, she spun round and yanked the door handle. Cringing when it almost came off in her hand, she slammed the door behind her and stared stonily ahead.
“So where have you been?” he asked coldly, forgetting his vow to be soft and biddable. “And I want the truth. I think you forget I’m employing you, and as an employer it’s nice to know when you decide to take a day off.”
“Shopping,” she said the first thing that came into her head and refused to look at him.
“Looks like,” he replied sarcastically, gazing at her empty hands.
“What I do on my day off is my business,” she muttered, wishing the interrogation would stop and he’d start the car.
“I agree, but this isn’t a day off.”
“It’s Sunday. Doesn’t that count?”
“So, why didn’t you want a lift?” he asked curiously, changing the subject.
Sally shrugged her shoulders. How could she tell her boss he was an ignorant, insensitive bastard without offending him? “Didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you.” Spinning the wheel with one hand, he easily pulled into the light traffic filtering through the narrow street.
“And you know what would? But, of course, I’m such an ugly person, why would my opinion count?” she spat, unable to help herself. Then she wished she’d put her brain in gear before opening her mouth.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.” He didn’t know how he could have said those things when all he could think about was the luscious body she hid from the world.
“As I told you before, you’re only sorry I heard you.” She turned to glare at him. “How many other times have you said as much, or at least thought it?” She dragged in a sigh as she noted a slight tick at the edge of his cheek.
Chapter Ten
As they arrived back at the house and the electronic gates swung open, Sally noticed Antonia’s car in the drive. Relief blew over her. At last she could get her hands on another laptop and do some work.
The remaining journey had been undertaken in frosty silence. Whenever Roman tried to instigate conversation, Sally either ignored him or replied monosyllabically until he eventually gave up. The only sign of his annoyance was his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel.
As soon as the car halted, Sally leapt out of the car, eager to put as much distance between them as possible. She almost fell in her haste to get away. Roman sighed and shook his head, wondering why he even bothered. Then he followed her into the house and was confronted by the loud commotion going on inside.
“I’m warning you, Paul, I’ll tell Roman if you don’t listen to me,” shrieked Antonia, standing with her hands on her hips. Her pale eyes flashed with unrestrained fury.
Sally hovered nervously in the large hall, not knowing where to look. Antonia screamed and yelled at Paul, who leaned casually against the door jam and pretended to pay no attention to her tantrum.
“What the hell is going on here?” Roman shouted over the noise, realizing how calm and peaceful the house had been without Antonia’s temperamental outbursts.
“He won’t do as he’s told.” Antonia pointed to Paul, who glared at her and stuck his fingers up.
“When will you get it into that thick skull of yours that I don’t take my orders off you?” he countered as he inspected his immaculate nails, which were always covered in gloves when he was gardening.
“Roman, tell him,” Antonia begged. She limped towards him and leaned against his big body. Her pale blue eyes roamed over him pleadingly and she placed a manicured hand on his arm.
Sally watched the display and felt sick. She knew straight away that the rumour was true. Antonia’s duties included ‘extras.’
“Paul takes his orders off me,” Roman said. “Now what is it you want done?” He wished she’d take her hand off his arm. The heat from her cloying fingers burned into him, and for some totally illogical reason he was uncomfortable with Sally witnessing the display.
“I need some things carried out from my car, including the new laptop.” She aimed her frosty gaze at Sally and snapped, “This time, try and look after other people’s property.”
“Antonia, shut the hell up and don’t talk to Sally like that.” Roman’s voice was deceptively quiet. He felt strangely possessive and didn’t like how she spoke to Sally.
Three sets of eyes pooled on him in shock, and Paul gave a tiny smile in approval. It was about time Roman pulled the bitch into line. Paul almost laughed at the shock registering on her face, but he didn’t like the way she looked at Sal. He knew that once Roman was out of the way, her gloves would come off. He just hoped Sally would be a match for her.
“Antonia, take Sally to her office and show her what you want. I’ll fetch the gear in,” Roman said. To Paul, he said, “Come on, you can help.”
* * *
Once Roman and Paul left, Antonia pounced on Sally, who still hadn’t moved. She was nervously chewing her lip, still shocked at Roman’s reaction. It appeared she was to be his kicking post alone.
“Don’t just stand there. Follow me,” she hissed. Then she added, “And I want to know what’s going on between you two.”
Sally almost laughed out loud at her suggestion. “Nothing at all,” she swore, trying to keep a straight face.
“Don’t lie to me.” Antonia turned briefly to face her then carried on, limping dramatically down the hallway.
“I’m not. Why would I?” Sally followed her into the small room.
“I don’t trust you and I don’t like you.” Her gaze trailed up and down the mess of a woman. If Roman was entertaining her then his standards had certainly dropped.
Sally stood staring at her silently and thought, Join the queue.
“Just make sure you do the work I give you and nothing more.” She snapped her fingers, her red nails gleaming. “Do you understand me?”
Sally felt a ridiculous urge to curtsy or salute her. Instead, she tilted her head in agreement. If only Antonia knew what Roman really thought of her, maybe then she’d realize how foolish she sounded.
Paul and Roman returned with a pile of boxes. Sally suppressed a giggle a
t Paul’s red, perspiring face. Roman’s arms bulged with the amount he carried and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“Where do you want these?” Roman asked.
Antonia pointed to the desk, limping carefully around it. “I’ll leave Sally with the work I expect her to complete for this week. I won’t be in. My ankle’s still too painful.” She missed Paul’s gleeful reaction and the relief that flooded Sally’s face. Only Roman remained impassive.
* * *
Over the next few days Sally remained closeted in her office. Her only company was the dogs that wandered in and lay contentedly watching her, their bushy tails sweeping the floor every time she turned to them.
She came out only for food, often taking it back in with her as she struggled to sort out the deluge of paperwork that Antonia had left. She threw herself into work, hoping that it would leave her so exhausted she would stop thinking of Roman. Even though she was supposed to be building up a dossier on him, she’d only written snippets of information on scraps of paper and tossed them into a small cupboard.
Her earlier resolve was melting, along with her hurt. The pain of his words gradually faded, stored away with all the other insults she’d received throughout her life.
She forced herself into a gradual acceptance of his dislike for her, absorbing it into her mind. She retreated into the sanctuary of numbness, not allowing the luxury of thought. Instead she simply pushed her body to the limit of exhaustion.
* * *
The afternoon sun blazed through the window behind her. She could feel the heat on her head and rose to open the window clasp. Through the window, she saw Roman returning from yet another meeting. He appeared every inch the man every woman wanted.
His glasses shaded his eyes and the roof was down on his silver sports car. When he glanced her way, Sally ducked behind the curtain then sneaked a peek out the window. He still sat in his car watching her. The colour flooded her face, heating it, and she slammed the window shut. After flicking on a fan, she cursed when it blew apart the neat stack of papers she’d spent an age putting in order. The whole pile whooshed into the air, scattering to the floor like confetti.