– I’m not feeling that great either. Getting hammered sounds like a good idea, Bella said doubtfully.
So they arranged to meet at the pub, and then Bella said: How do you feel about your fame and stardom?
– What?
– You are mentioned in the Telegraph. It says you are brilliant.
– Really? I haven’t seen the papers.
There was a note of pleasure in his voice.
– It was a big interview with Stella, and she went on and on about how brilliant you were.
– Oh, he said, sounding much less pleased. What did she say?
– I can’t remember exactly. It was a weird interview. I’d briefed her on the diversity agenda – which was what the interview was meant to be about. But she went banging on about some W. H. Auden poem. James is furious, as he says she came over as a total flake and there wasn’t a win for AE at all.
Rhys went quiet after this, and so Bella said: See you tonight.
Stella
The article in the Telegraph came out on the day of James’s party. There was a picture of her on the masthead of the business section, underneath which it said: New face of superwoman.
And inside was a picture of her taken from below, looking not merely tired and haggard, but quite mad. Underneath, the caption said: Stella Bradberry: young people stimulate me.
In another mood this unintended irony would have made her laugh. As it was she looked at the picture and wanted to cry.
Stella Bradberry is running late [the piece began]. She bustles into her office, looking distracted, apologizes for keeping me waiting and says that she has a lot on. This is no exaggeration. She has just joined the board of the second largest oil company in the UK, and is one of the sharpest economists in the country. She is the trusted lieutenant of CEO Stephen Hinton and is playing a key role in restructuring the £14bn company. She is said to be the most influential woman in the oil industry, and is on first-name terms with all the Middle East oil ministers. When Bill Gates is in town it is Stella Bradberry he sees.
That is total bollocks, thought Stella. I have met Gates once, and that was with Stephen. And the idea that I have cosy chats with gulf state oil ministers is hilarious.
But there is a softer side to Bradberry. On her desk there is a little Post-it sticker quoting the W. H. Auden poem ‘in my veins there is a wish, and a memory of fish’, and on her iPod she has 50 Cent and Snow Patrol rather than Bach and the Beatles.
How dare she look at my iPod, Stella thought. And how dare she write all this drivel.
Despite being a woman and paying lip service to the diversity agenda, some might say that Bradberry has pulled the ladder up after her. Her team is entirely male, and earlier this year she raised eyebrows in the company by giving the job of her executive assistant to a young man who had only been with the company for a few months.
When challenged on this Bradberry looked slightly flustered.
‘Some of these young people joining AE are exceptionally talented,’ she said. ‘And Rhys Williams is one of them.’
Stella could not bear to read on.
Bella
Bella and Rhys arrived when the party was in full swing. They had had three drinks each in the pub and got lost on the way from Wimbledon tube station.
The alcohol had improved Bella’s mood somewhat, but Rhys’s exceedingly low spirits – which had at first cheered her, as it was comforting to find that someone was in an even worse state than she was – were starting to get her down. Bella had asked what was the matter and he had said everything was total shit and that he hated his life.
– Everything can’t be total shit, said Bella. Your job is fantastic. And you were in the newspapers this morning as a genius.
– Don’t go on about that, he snapped.
Really, Bella thought, you are such a baby.
The door was opened by a man in a bow tie, and inside Bella could see James’s younger son in a light blue dressing-gown handing around crisps, and the older boy, clad similarly only in a darker shade of blue, distributing olives.
– Cute, said Rhys. It’s like The Sound of Music. Do you think they are going to start singing ‘So long, farewell, auf wieder sehen goodbye?’
Bella laughed, accepting a crisp from the child, and a glass of champagne from a waiter.
James was standing with his back to the fireplace of the handsome sitting-room, with a circle of guests forming around him. He was evidently about to give a speech.
– Stay with me, she said to Rhys. This whole party freaks me out.
– Me too, he said.
James banged his silver fountain pen against his glass and the party fell silent.
– This is not a speech, he said.
– Shame, cried a disembodied voice that Bella thought was probably Ben’s.
– But I just wanted to say what is normally called ‘a few words’.
There was rumble of laughter, though it did not strike Bella as funny.
– It’s been a really tough year, he went on, but I’m proud of the work we’ve done. There have been some scary moments – he paused and there was another murmur of laughter – but I think we’ve come through them stronger as a company and stronger as a team.
– Blah, blah, Rhys hissed at Bella.
She smirked, and at that very moment James’s eyes found her face in the crowd. Bella felt duplicitous. His speech might be banal, but he said it with such power that it all sounded real. I would follow you, Bella thought drunkenly, to the ends of the earth.
And then he said: And finally, Hillary – where are you? – I want to thank you for this lovely party. And thank you for putting up with me.
He smiled at his wife. Bella pulled on Rhys’s sleeve.
– Get me another drink, I’m going to get completely rat-arsed, she said.
How could he, Bella was thinking. Hillary hadn’t lifted a fucking finger for the party. Anthea had done most of it.
– Let’s go and talk to Stella, said Bella.
She pulled Rhys over, but he resisted.
Bella had started to say to Stella how much she had enjoyed the interview in the paper, when James’s wife came to join them.
She nodded at Bella and kissed Stella on both cheeks, and the two older women started to talk about their children’s schools. Bella looked at Hillary up close. Her face had lines on it that were partly filled with skilfully applied foundation. Her dress was low-cut and Bella thought her cleavage looked a bit crêpey. When she got to that age she would cover up a bit more. And then Bella noticed that round the neck of her boss’s wife was the same pearl necklace that was sitting on Bella’s chest of drawers at home, but while Bella’s was a single string, Hillary had three strings, held with a diamond clasp.
The withdrawn manner she had had when Bella had come round with the tickets had quite gone. Instead she was talking loudly to Stella and looking at her with a mad intensity.
Bella glanced around the room to see where Rhys had got to.
– James minds so much about Harry getting into Winchester, Hillary was saying.
Bella was starting to feel drunk – not in a cheerful way, but in a queasy, morose way. She did not want to listen to this conversation but did not know how to escape it either.
– I think boarding school does so much damage, Hillary was saying. In fact you only need to look at James himself. I often think his emotional development has been stunted by being sent away to boarding school at eight. Though sometimes I think he was just born autistic.
For a moment Bella felt an odd sort of camaraderie with his wife, who appeared to be even more drunk than she was herself.
– What do you think, Bella? Hillary asked. You probably see more of him than I do myself.
I can’t cope with this, Bella thought.
– What would you say it was? James’s wife went on. Stunted emotional development through boarding school or was he just born with this extreme male gene?
– Um, said Bella. W
ell, I don’t really know, as obviously I don’t see the same side of him as you.
Hillary took a large swallow of champagne, as did Bella.
– But, Bella went on hurriedly, boarding school is weird. I can’t imagine sending my daughter to one.
At that moment, Stephen broke into the circle and put his hand on Hillary’s arm.
– I have to go, he said. But thank you. It was a great party.
Hillary looked at the CEO blankly, as if she had no idea who he was. Bella took advantage of the interruption and slipped away to find Rhys.
Instead of finding him, she walked straight into James.
– Hello, he said.
His voice was hard and angry.
– I saw you turn up with Rhys.
– Yes, she said simply.
– Isn’t that a bit tactless? he said.
– What? she said. Tactless? And isn’t inviting your former mistress to your house so that you can praise your wife to the skies and parade her in a necklace three times the size of the one you gave your mistress – isn’t that a bit tactless?
– We can’t have this conversation here, he said, taking hold of her arm as if she were a hooligan. Let’s go into the garden.
Stella
– Here comes the most influential woman in the oil industry, said James as Stella stepped out of the cab after an interminable journey to Wimbledon. Welcome.
Hillary was standing behind him in the hallway looking absent, as if there was something that she had lost. She had put on weight since last year, and Stella, who was now unable to prevent herself from doing an age audit of every woman in her forties, decided that she was ageing badly. She must be forty-one, but looked closer to fifty.
– Hello, Stella, you look so thin … have you stopped eating? Hillary asked.
Stella smiled and kissed her, assured her that she ate plenty, and told Hillary that she was looking marvellous. She pushed past her into the room, which contained all the most senior people at AE. In another mood she might have been scornful of such naked ambition displayed in a guest list but today she was indifferent to it. The only guest in the world whom she cared about appeared not to be there.
– Ah, Stella, said Sir John Englefield, approaching and giving her a peck on the cheek. Fascinating profile this morning in the Telegraph. But I didn’t know you had an interest in poetry?
Stella smiled at the chairman and gave a humourless laugh.
– Idiot journalists trying to find colour, she said. It was just something of my daughter’s …
Over his shoulder she was scanning new arrivals for Rhys, but every time the door opened, it was someone else. The relief she thought she would feel did not come. Instead she felt despair that he was not there. She had not seen him for five long days and the absence was bearing down on her. It did not, as the poem had said, go through her like a thread through a needle. It stifled her like a blanket. Just a sight of him would allow her to breathe again and make her feel better.
The door opened again, this time revealing Bella, who was looking flushed and pretty. At first Stella did not see Rhys, who was standing behind Bella. Then she saw him whisper something to her, and Bella turned, looking at him and laughing.
No, thought Stella.
Rhys’s eyes were fixed on Bella and he did not raise them to look into the room beyond. He took two glasses of champagne and gave one to Bella.
Stella accepted a miniature salmon flan from a woman with a tray, not because she wanted it but to give her something to do. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and she took a gulp of champagne to wash it down.
– No, she said, out loud.
– Don’t you think so? Sir John looked at her in surprise. He had been talking about skiing in Gstaad at Christmas.
Stella was saved from having to explain herself by the sound of metal being tapped on a crystal glass. James, it seemed, was preparing to give a speech.
Stella looked at him carefully and thought he seemed entirely in control. Perhaps he had not seen Bella arrive with Rhys? Or perhaps Stella had misheard the child at the party? Perhaps she had got the wrong end of the stick. If James had been having an affair with Bella surely he would not have asked her to his house? Or perhaps it was just a brief and sordid thing that was embarrassing to both and didn’t count.
James was thanking Hillary and giving a Christmas toast just as Bella approached from one side, pulling Rhys by the sleeve. The possessiveness of the gesture made Stella feel sick. You do not tug the sleeve of a colleague unless you have had sex with him. This principle, which Stella’s fevered mind had invented on the spot, struck her as irrefutably true.
Rhys met Stella’s eye before turning his back to get another drink. He did not smile or acknowledge her at all.
Bella was trying to talk to her about the Telegraph interview and, like a true strumpet, was looking at her with such innocence that it was repulsive to see. Stella wanted to get away, but Hillary joined them, making escape impossible.
– Is Finn sitting common entrance this year? she asked.
– Yes, but he’s not working very hard, Stella said doubtfully.
Hillary started to say how their older boy was down for Winchester and the headmaster of the prep school had said that he would pass the exams easily. The trouble was that she wasn’t sure it was right for him, but James had his heart set on it.
Stella thought about Finn and about how he was likely to fail his exams and about Charles who, far from being difficult about his son’s schooling, seemed impervious to the fact that he was being schooled at all.
And then Bella butted into the conversation and started talking about her own feelings about educating her daughter. She’s self-centred as well as a tart, Stella thought.
She made her excuses, thanked Hillary for the party and went to get her coat, but as she did so walked straight into Rhys, who was swaying drunkenly.
– It’s good to see you, he said.
Stella stared at him incredulously.
– Are you trying to hurt me? she said.
– I don’t know why you are so angry, he said. All I ever did was love you.
Stella gave a bitter laugh. And then started to cry.
– I have to get out, she said, opening the back door, which led on to a cast-iron balcony. Rhys did not follow.
Down in the garden below she heard a man’s voice saying: These past two weeks have been exceptionally difficult for me.
Then there was a pause, while someone – a woman – said something that Stella could not hear.
– That’s not fair, the man went on. I’m not good at this – just because I don’t show it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. I have missed you in a way that has taken me by surprise. I was quite unprepared for just how awful I have felt.
And then there was silence in the garden.
Bella
Bella sat at her desk the day after the party with a savage hangover and a deep, if somewhat confused, feeling that things were, if not exactly good, then much better than they had been. For the first time in weeks she had come into the office feeling some of the old excitement. She had been a little disappointed that James had not sent her a text that morning, but she still felt sure enough that his clumsy speech in the garden had been genuine. He had said he wanted her and that being without her had made him ‘too damned miserable’. Surely he wasn’t going to change his mind again so soon?
Just as she was settling down to do some work, her phone rang. James Home, it said on the display. Bella thought this strange, as she had seen his briefcase in his office, which suggested that he was in.
– Hello, she said softly.
But the voice wasn’t James’s. It was Hillary’s.
– Thank you for the party last night, Bella said, in a brisker tone of voice. It was a really great do. So much nicer than the Christmas parties that we have in the office. I had a really good time, but I must have had a lot of champagne because I’m paying for it this morning.
&n
bsp; The words were tumbling out, but even to Bella’s ear they sounded tinny and wrong. There was a pause and then Hillary said: Do you feel pleased with yourself?
Her voice was thick and slow.
– Sorry?
– Do you feel pleased with yourself? Hillary repeated.
– Um, I’m not sure what you mean, said Bella. She was panicking, but hoping that if she went on saying nothing the bullet that was aimed at her would somehow miss.
– You do know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean.
– I’m afraid I don’t.
– Well, I’ll have to tell you then. You have been fucking my husband. It was you in the car with him. It was you who was with him at the Great Eastern Hotel. You were fucking him in New York. It is you who is stored in his mobile under the name Bill. And it was you who came to my house last night, stood around in your nasty tarty dress and then snogged him in MY garden.
– No, said Bella. No, I don’t feel pleased with myself.
Hillary ignored this.
– I’m never wrong about people. When you delivered the tickets to me in the summer, I knew you were trouble. And what did you think you were doing? Looking at the competition to see how old I was? Do you think it’s clever to tempt these men with their midlife crises? Do you think it’s clever to talk so politely to their wives on the phone while shagging their husbands behind their backs? Of course I blame him, too, for being weak, but you are vicious. You have ruined the life of a woman you hardly know.
Hillary was sobbing into the phone.
– I’m sorry, Bella said feebly.
There was a click and Hillary was gone. Bella hung up and went into the loo, where she knelt down in the cubicle and was violently sick.
Stella
Stella was in Stephen’s office when he got the call. His PA took it, and buzzed through.
– Sorry to interrupt, but it’s James Staunton’s wife. She says it’s urgent.
Stephen picked up the phone.
– Hello, Hillary, he said smoothly. Marvellous party last night. Thank you so much –
In Office Hours Page 27