Your Truth or Mine?

by Trisha Sakhlecha

  Harvey leaned back in his chair. A slight frown was beginning to punctuate his face.

  ‘It’s only a couple of weeks less than our usual leads. Nothing our factories can’t handle,’ I said.

  ‘Where are you placing this?’

  ‘Isla Apparels. Turkey.’

  ‘Bit risky, considering the Euro hub is so new. We may need a trip,’ Mike chipped in. ‘Make sure everything’s in order, talk the factory through compliance, etc.’ He paused. ‘Why don’t you go over there for few weeks, Mia?’

  ‘That’s a great idea, Mike. We need to look at training the new staff there anyway. But I was thinking we could send Chris instead. I spoke to him this morning and he’s willing to relocate there for a while. He can train the new staff and monitor the order there and I can oversee things at this end. What do you think, Harvey?’

  ‘Are you sure he can handle it? We’ve heard murmurs about a breakdown . . .’

  ‘That’s just office gossip. You know how vile it can get. Chris has been on enough trips with me to know the drill and I can always fly over if he needs me.’

  ROY

  Tuesday, 6th October

  I could hear Mia in the kitchen when I stepped out of the shower. I pulled on a T-shirt and joggers and went downstairs. She was busy assembling a salad. A bottle of red wine stood open on the counter.

  ‘Someone’s in a good mood,’ I said, walking over to pour a glass for myself. I took a sip. Mia’s taste in wine was impeccable. A far cry from the vodka-guzzling girl I’d first met.

  She turned and gave me a peck.

  ‘We got the order!’ she grinned. ‘Harvey was pleased to say the least.’

  ‘Brilliant. Mike?’

  ‘Mike said he was pleased and then he suggested I go to Turkey for a few weeks.’

  ‘Bastard. What did you say?’

  ‘I managed to dodge him,’ she said, setting the salad bowl on the table and checking the oven. ‘We’re sending Chris instead. How was your day?’

  ‘Good. I spoke to George. Looks like they loved the video segments. They want us to draw up a plan for a twelve-part series.’

  ‘That’s great, sweetie. Well done.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I mumbled, taking another sip.

  ‘So . . .’ she began. She turned towards me. Her face had taken on a pained look. I looked away, flicking through the stack of takeaway leaflets on the table that seemed to grow higher every week.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said. She was leaning against the counter, almost-empty wine glass in hand. My heart raced. I found myself wondering if she had somehow found out about Emily.

  ‘Roy,’ Mia said.

  I looked up. I forced myself to calm down. I reminded myself that she had looked perfectly happy just moments ago.

  ‘Ma called this morning,’ she continued, twirling her glass.

  I allowed myself a small sigh. I summoned my voice. ‘Yeah, I had about ten missed calls from her. Where did you say I was?’

  ‘Atlas Mountains.’

  ‘Good. What did she want?’

  ‘She and Papa are coming to the UK next month. They want to come and visit us.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I told her that would be lovely but—’

  ‘You told her what?’

  ‘Roy, please, just hear me out. I tried to get out of it – said we were away that week – but she just said they’d move their dates to suit us,’ she rushed. ‘I didn’t know what else to say.’

  ‘So you invited them to come and stay with us instead? Have you lost your mind?’

  ‘She invited herself!’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure she did.’

  ‘You know your mother. She doesn’t ask.’

  ‘And I know you! Always fucking meddling.’

  ‘I wasn’t meddling! She called me because you didn’t answer your phone. I was trying to—’

  ‘Spare me the bullshit. This is what you’ve wanted for years.’

  ‘You think I like playing referee between you and your mother? I wish you’d man up and speak to her yourself. Why can’t you just put the past behind you so we can all move on?’

  ‘I’ll speak to her when I want to speak to her.’ I closed the distance between Mia and me and slammed my still-full glass on the counter. The wine swirled and sloshed, threatening to spill out. In the background, the oven beeped.

  ‘Stop trying to fix my family.’

  MIA

  Wednesday, 7th October

  I can’t breathe. I CAN’T breathe. I look around for something, someone to hold on to. I close my eyes and try to focus on staying afloat. I can feel the water rising. The pool is shrinking, closing in on me. I snap my eyes open. I look at my hand, now barely over the surface of the water. It tires, wanting to drop down. I channel all my energy into keeping it there; just a minute ago I was waving frantically. I scream out for help but all that comes out is a strangled gasp. There’s water in my mouth, in my ears, swirling through me, filling up my lungs, hammering against my chest. I’m trying to think, come up with a strategy, but all I can think about is Roy. Where is he? He never leaves me alone in the water. I look around again. He was here just a minute ago. Where did he go? I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.

  I woke up with a gasp. My eyes flicked open and I kicked off the covers, suddenly hot. Next to me, Roy was snoring softly. I touched his shoulder, letting my hand linger for a few seconds, but he didn’t stir. I checked my phone: four forty-five a.m. I slipped out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. The wooden floor felt cool under my bare feet. I clutched the counter in front of me as I gulped down a glass of water.

  The vividness of the dream had left me shaken. My heart was in my ears. I gripped the worktop harder, my muscles tightening with the effort. I shook my head. Finally, as the remnants of the dream started to slip away, I managed to breathe again.

  Natalie was going to have a field day with this one.

  ‘Hi,’ I spoke into the phone quietly, a few hours later, ‘it’s Mia. Could we pencil something in for this morning?’

  She must have registered the quiet terror in my voice because for once, without any of her usual talk of dependence or overwrought schedules, she agreed immediately.

  ‘Okay, so, Chris, if you could look at flights and a hotel for the first week, I’ll get that signed off tomorrow. Susie, could you please liaise with Design and QC for artworks and specs. I’d like to get the tech packs over to the factory ASAP. Helen, let’s run through your notes on the compliance manual tomorrow afternoon.’ I snapped my notebook shut. ‘Any questions, give me a shout,’ I said. I allowed myself a quick look around the table before getting up, trying to decipher if anyone had smelled my panic or noticed my dwindling attention. The emergency session with Natalie had calmed me down but even so, I had caught myself slipping a few times during the meeting. So I had sped through it all, delegated more than I usually would and brought in distractions in the form of pastries. Everyone was busy taking notes, half-eaten croissants and muffins in front of them. The cliché about people in fashion starving themselves was just that – a cliché and utter bullshit. No one says no to a free treat. I picked up an almond croissant and walked out. I still had the rest of the day to get through.

  ROY

  Friday, 9th October

  ‘You go first. I’ll see you soon,’ I said, zipping up my jeans. I smoothed back my hair in the mirror. Emily nodded and slipped out quietly.

  It turns out a handicapped toilet is as good a place as any for sex – lots of space and plenty of handles and railings for leverage. The discreet basement location was a bonus. I walked out of the toilet, up the stairs and out of the cafe, after a mere two minutes, undetected. I nodded to Emily on my way out. She was sitting at the table by the window with a menu open in front of her.

  I had barely reached the end of the street when my phone beeped.

  same time, tuesday? xxx

  I smiled to myself. I must be really good.

  ‘I’ll get t
hat,’ I said, reaching for the bill. I caught the waitress’s eye and held up my gold Amex. I turned back to George. ‘Do you have any thoughts on the team yet?’

  George leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, legs stretched out on one side of our window seat. At six foot four, George struggled to fit into any regular-sized space. ‘I still need to work through the budget with the producers, but I was thinking of bringing Adrian on as first AD and Gill for art and creative. Emily can still assist with locations, but we’ll need to get a local scout on board too,’ he said.

  ‘Ah,’ I nodded, pretending to consider it.

  ‘There you go.’ The waitress handed over the card machine to me with a wide smile. Add gratuity? I pressed ‘No’ and punched in my code. She was doing her job – one she was paid to do – no need for tips. I handed the machine back to her and the smile disappeared.

  ‘What were you going to say?’ George asked when she’d left.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, pushing my chair back. ‘I’m just a little surprised you want to bring Emily on. It’s your call of course,’ I added.

  George’s face was intent as he nodded. ‘No, I know what you mean.’ He paused, getting up to slip on his jacket. ‘She can be a bit OTT and we need someone with a bit more tact for Africa.’

  I felt my phone vibrating in my jacket pocket and pulled it out. My mother’s face flashed on the screen, interrupting my line of thought.

  ‘Just something to consider,’ I said, frowning. I debated letting it go to voicemail but she would just ring Mia and I didn’t want to risk that again. For all I knew, Mia would invite them to move in with us.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to get this,’ I said to George, before speaking into my phone. ‘Namaste, Ma.’

  ‘Siddhant? I’ve been trying to reach you all week. Did Mia tell you?’

  I sat back down and mouthed an apology to George as he walked off with a wave. The waitress scowled at me from across the room. I motioned to her to bring me another coffee.

  ‘Yes, Ma. I’ve been travelling.’

  ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘It was fine.’

  ‘Will you be coming to India soon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Mia tell you I’ve been invited to chair a seminar in Oxford?’

  ‘Yes. Congratulations.’

  ‘Maybe you could come to Oxford for the talk? It’s on . . .’ I heard the rustle of papers as she paused and a mental image of her bent over her desk flashed before me. ‘Tuesday the third of November, ten a.m.,’ she continued.

  I pushed the image aside as the waitress plonked a flat white and another bill in front of me. I wasn’t the teenager waiting for his mother to look up anymore. ‘I don’t think so. It’s a working day.’

  ‘Oh. Well, anyway, we’ll come and visit you. We can spend some time together then. All of us. As a family.’

  There was a hint of desperation in her voice and I couldn’t help but wonder if her distress was more than just a ploy. ‘I’ll probably be travelling.’

  ‘Yes, Mia told me you are going for a wedding. I will ask my secretary to coordinate dates with her. We will see you in a few weeks, beta.’

  I hung up and sipped my coffee slowly, trying to hold my space on the table for long enough to clear my head. Ma sounded determined and short of refusing to see them outright, there was nothing I could do to avoid seeing my parents. Perhaps that is what I should do, I thought. They – he – certainly deserved it.

  An image of my father flashed across my thoughts. It was always the same: him standing in the living room, telling me to clean myself up and stay in my room. I slumped back in my chair and gazed out of the window. The street outside was starting to fill up with bankers and estate agents, all anonymous in their identical black suits and matching Bluetooth headsets, rushing to get back to their suburban existences. A cushy job, a large house in zone forty, a trophy wife and two perfectly well-behaved children. They were clearly living the dream I had passed up on.

  A woman in a red jumper and leggings caught my eye, standing out in the army of suits. My eyes followed her as she walked past the window and entered the cafe, oblivious to my scrutiny. She looked familiar. I caught a proper glimpse of her face as the waitress led her to a table along the wall, directly across from me.

  It was the woman from the bookshop.

  I paid for my coffee and walked over. She had a notebook open in front of her. I tried to resist taking a peek.

  ‘Hi.’

  She continued writing. I hesitated.

  ‘Hi,’ I said again, bending down to touch her arm lightly.

  She looked up with a start, panic clouding her face until recognition wiped it away a second later. She snapped her notebook shut. ‘Oh, hello. Strange running into you here.’

  ‘Certainly a coincidence – unless you’re following me of course?’ I teased.

  She gave me a bemused look. ‘Indeed,’ she answered.

  ‘Do you work nearby?’ I asked her.

  ‘Sometimes. I’m a freelancer.’

  I waited for her to elaborate and then, giving up, ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I dance. Contemporary ballet.’

  I looked at her lithe frame, long hair, and the air of fragility that surrounded her. It made sense. Everything about this woman whispered poise.

  ‘I remembered,’ I muttered.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I remembered . . . where we first met – before Waterstone’s, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘Eurostar. I helped you with your bag?’

  ‘Oh.’ She frowned. ‘Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry, I was in a state that day. I don’t remember much about that journey, to be honest.’

  She looked troubled. I found myself wondering what had made her so. ‘I’ve had days like that. Were you travelling for work?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘I had to go and see an ex. It ended . . . badly.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I stepped to one side to let a waiter pass.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, then after a moment of thought, ‘I guess I wasn’t who he wanted me to be.’

  ‘Are we ever?’

  The woman shrugged.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I’d better be off. It was nice seeing you again.’

  She nodded but said nothing.

  As I turned to leave, her last comment still stuck in my head, I realized I still didn’t know her name. It was absurd. I went back to her table. This time she saw me coming and looked up, her colourless grey eyes regarding mine directly.

  ‘I’m Roy, by the way,’ I said, holding out my hand.

  She smiled and took my hand.

  ‘Celia.’

  MIA

  Friday, 16th October

  I gave an involuntary sigh as I stepped out of my heels and snuck in, closing the door softly behind me. Even though the lights were off, the milky glow from the window illuminated the room enough for me to find my way around. Chris’s leaving drinks had stretched on longer than expected and I had texted Roy halfway through the evening to tell him not to wait up. Still, I had fooled myself into believing he would.

  Roy stirred when I opened a drawer.

  ‘Hey,’ Roy murmured, ‘come to bed.’

  ‘In a minute, sweetie.’ I was still wobbly from the cocktails. I pulled out a clean T-shirt and walked over to the bed.

  ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘Half two. Go back to sleep.’ I knelt down to kiss him lightly before tiptoeing into the en-suite. By the time I came out, he had rolled over onto his stomach, fast asleep. Next to him, on the nightstand, his phone lit up to announce a new message and then went black again.

  Roy had come to bed full of apologies a couple of days ago. He had spoken to his mother and knew it wasn’t my fault. He had overreacted; would I forgive him, please? Of course I would. I always did.

  Natalie had been pleased when I told her. She said it was a sign we were both invested in
the relationship. She had compared it to one of Mum and Dad’s arguments I had told her about, using it as an example. Every marriage has its ups and downs, she had said, but what mattered was that we were using honesty and trust to get through it. I had felt the same kind of pride that I did when my year four teacher gave me a gold star in the spelling test.

  Yet I could feel the familiar wash of panic swirling up my chest and all I wanted to do was pick up Roy’s phone, sitting naively on the nightstand, and check what he had been up to. It took herculean effort to make myself turn away.

  Don’t be that woman. Go to bed.

  I reached for my bag and pulled out my own phone. No new messages.

  I emptied my handbag on the dresser, found a half-eaten Kit Kat and finished it off, all the while thinking about Roy’s phone.

  Pathetic.

  I went over and knelt by my wardrobe, feeling around in the back until I found an empty box. I pulled it out, folded my handbag in it, and manoeuvred it behind all the other neatly stacked and labelled boxes. I left the package I had picked up earlier that night tucked away in the inner pocket and went to bed. I thought of the nondescript alleyway I had walked to, heart pounding, to pick it up, the almost wordless exchange that had followed and the relief I had felt walking back to the station uninterrupted. I was hoping I wouldn’t need to use it, but I felt calmer knowing it was there, nestled in the folds of last season’s Chloe, just in case things got out of control.

  ROY

  Tuesday, 20th October

  ‘I hope you had a pleasant stay with us, sir. Hope to see you again.’

  ‘It was perfect, thanks,’ I said, pulling out my car keys and heading to the car park. It had been yet another great, if exhausting evening. I hadn’t been able to sleep after Emily had left and ended up watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind into the early hours. All I needed now was some coffee, I thought, climbing into the car.

  Emily and I had been meeting frequently over the past few weeks, the rules of our non-relationship clearly established. We met only on weekdays. We never ate anything. We hardly spoke, and emailed each other only to arrange these meetings. We quickly tired of empty car parks and anonymous back alleys. I started booking cheap hotel rooms more and more frequently – sometimes two or three times a week. It didn’t matter how drab the pictures looked or how far I had to drive. The more remote, the better. Glynview, the Imperial Inn, the Duke’s Arms. All tacky business hotels with tired staff, a supermarket breakfast spread and patterned curtains. I never wrote about them, of course. Emily joined me everywhere, sexy lingerie in tow. With her, nothing was off limits. By now we had an easy routine set up: I would arrive first, mid-afternoon usually, check in, order room service. Emily would breeze in a few hours later, past the reception, with the air of someone who knew exactly where she was going. Her confidence was astounding, the sex exquisite. She never stayed over. It was perfect.