Getting Even

by Sarah Rayner

  Sure enough, come March, when Orianna made her regular Saturday checkup at the agency, she discovered three invoices in the tray which added up to several thousand dollars.

  Carefully, she slid them from the in-box—noting which papers they sat between. Then she went to her office, unlocked her filing cabinet, and removed a handful of the cream Conqueror paper she had stored there. She’d bought a packet from W. H. Smiths weeks earlier, and put it by in preparation for this moment.

  Next, she went to the photocopier, loaded the paper, laid the first invoice on the glass, and pressed Copy. Eventually it churned out—darker than the original so she adjusted the settings. It took a few attempts, but soon she had it perfect. She repeated the process for the remaining two invoices, and then she carried both sets over to the window and compared her copies with Russell’s originals.

  Well done, she said to herself. The difference is almost impossible to detect.

  She removed the remaining Conqueror from the copier and tucked it under her arm. Then, with her copies in one hand and the originals in the other, she headed to Russell’s office. She slotted the copies into the exact spot she’d found the originals. Finally, she returned to her own office, put the Conqueror back in her cabinet, found a large envelope for the originals, and popped them inside.

  * * *

  That evening, several pivotal events took place.

  In Battersea, thanks to a phone call from Chloë urging him to give it a go, Rob discovered Internet dating. “It’s only a small step on from those chat rooms you love,” she said. “And what have you got to lose? If you don’t mind me being frank, I reckon it’s high time you stopped hankering after straight boys. Surely Dan was one disaster too many?” It was true his experience with Dan made Rob cringe whenever he thought of it, so, grudgingly, he checked out a couple of sites she recommended. He opted for the one with the tastiest selection—reasoning there was little point in sharing interests if you didn’t fancy one another—and it rapidly proved the ideal vent for his e-mail addiction. By midnight he’d completed his personal profile in glorious detail, scanned in a flattering shot from the wedding the previous summer, and fired off witty responses to a number of promising-looking gentlemen. Then he sat back, fingers metaphorically crossed, and waited for their answers.

  * * *

  In Hoxton, Ivy perched on the sofa, bracing herself to read her divorce papers. They’d arrived by courier at the agency, but she’d not wanted to open them in public. Now, cigarette in hand and a gin and diet tonic by her side, she was as prepared to examine the contents of the large manila envelope as she’d ever be.

  She ripped it open and pulled out several sheets of paper.

  It transpired they weren’t actual divorce papers as such; a cover letter from Ed’s lawyer explained these would follow at a later date. This was simply the announcement of an official separation.

  Nevertheless, it was the first stage of untying the knot, and a sure sign that their marriage was over.

  Ivy took a drag on her cigarette and inhaled the smoke deep, deep into her lungs.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, in Camden, Dan was watching one of his all-time-favorite movies, Predator 2. He’d spent countless Saturdays since his split with Orianna in front of the TV, though it seemed no amount of gunfire and explosions could blast away his misery.

  He’d tried phoning Orianna a few times since he’d left the agency, but she had never returned his calls. Even freelancing didn’t take his mind off his troubles, so he’d decided to look for a full-time job again, hoping a fresh challenge might help him get over his heartbreak. The day before he’d been to consult the well-known headhunter, Trixie Fox, about finding a permanent position.

  “I don’t hold out much hope,” she’d said at the end of their meeting. “We’re in the middle of the most ghastly recession, and there’s not a lot around. Obviously I mustn’t tell you who, but I’ve had a senior creative from your agency on my books for several months—she’s very senior—and I can’t find her anything for love nor money. She’s even prepared to look abroad, though I’ve had no joy there either.”

  Dan’s stomach had turned over at the news. It sounds like Orianna is thinking of leaving Green as well, he thought. What a pity that would be. I’ve left—surely there’s no need for her to go too? And if she leaves the country there’ll be no chance of us getting back together. How horribly depressing.

  As the final credits of the video rolled, he made a vow.

  I’ll give it one last shot at talking to her, he decided, before she disappears from Green forever.

  * * *

  A couple of miles northeast, in Holloway, Orianna was indulging in one of her favorite pastimes: sharing a pizza and bottle of wine with a girlfriend. But on this occasion the girlfriend wasn’t Ivy. She’d not confronted Ivy directly lest it hamper the case they were putting together, nevertheless, Orianna was disinclined to spend time with her erstwhile writer since discovering she was colluding with Russell. Instead she was with Ursula, and on the coffee table before them lay a brown envelope containing Russell’s invoices.

  “Reckon we’ve nailed him,” said Ursula, and they clinked glasses.

  * * *

  Finally, in Hammersmith, Cassie was lying on the sofa. Despite all of Leon’s assurances that he thought she appeared beautiful no matter what, she’d never felt so horribly huge and uncomfortable, so whalelike, in her life.

  Suddenly she reached for his wrist and squeezed it as she grimaced in pain. “Oh fuck!”

  Leon, who’d been feeling laid-back because he was a trifle stoned, sat bolt upright. “What?”

  “That was a contraction.”

  “You’re not due for three weeks!”

  “I know.” Cassie winced again. “But I’m telling you—it was. This is it, Leon.”

  40. Confess a truth

  Orianna and Ivy were thrashing out some urgent concepts for Bellings Scott when there was a swift tap at the door and Ursula stepped into Orianna’s office without waiting for an invitation.

  “Everything OK?” she said.

  Orianna knew what she was driving at. Earlier that day she’d made a call to the criminal investigation division.

  “Yes, fine. We’re to go in tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “Right. I’ll have to shift something, but no worries.”

  “Go where?” Ivy sounded intrigued.

  “We’re just checking out a potential new client.” Orianna was elusive. “Nothing that need concern you at this stage.”

  “Oh,” said Ivy. “Be like that then.”

  Too right I will, thought Orianna. If Ivy’s pissed off, I’d rather she came out with it straight. She was increasingly aware gripes of this nature were designed to manipulate her emotions, and it riled her.

  But before she could get really irked, Ursula continued, “I presume you heard about Cassie?”

  Orianna’s heart began thumping fast. “No.”

  “She’s had the baby.”

  “I thought it wasn’t due until April,” said Ivy.

  “It arrived three weeks early.”

  “Is it alright?” asked Orianna.

  “Yes,” said Ursula. “He weighed over six pounds.”

  “So it’s a boy?” said Ivy and Orianna in unison.

  “Yup.” Ursula beamed, not bothering to hide her relish at being the one to impart the news. “Leon tells me Cassie went into labor on Saturday.”

  “Leon?” Again in unison.

  “Apparently he was with her.”

  “No!” exclaimed Orianna, heart lifting. “Is he the father then?”

  “Not sure,” said Ursula.

  “Not sure?” Clearly Ivy was as keen to know as they were.

  Ursula shook her head. “He didn’t say specifically. Anyway, I’ve had an idea, as I will confess I’m frightfully curious…”

  “Yeah?” from Ivy.

  “She’s at Queen Charlotte’s, I’m told.”

  “Oh?”r />
  “In Hammersmith. So I don’t know what you reckon, girls, but I thought it would be nice if we paid her a visit. Perhaps later, after work. After all, I’m dying to see the baby, aren’t you?”

  * * *

  Hitherto, Ivy would have resisted when Orianna and Ursula insisted on going by subway to West London, but these days she was more money conscious, so she concurred without fuss. This very week Ed had insisted they put the apartment on the market.

  “We’ll get flowers at the other end,” ordered Ursula as she set a brisk pace toward Leicester Square, and again Ivy demurred without argument.

  What if the truth about the baby’s father comes out? she worried, and for a second was tempted to make an excuse not to go. Yet for all her anxiety, Ivy was no coward, and she wanted to be present to deal with any revelations head-on. Moreover, she was growing increasingly wary of Orianna’s friendship with Ursula. Orianna had become strangely distant over the last few weeks, and at the same time she and Ursula seemed to be getting exceptionally close. Ivy was more than a mite jealous. No, she decided, I’m damned if they’re going to see Cassie without me.

  The Piccadilly line was packed all the way; from the station they had a ten-minute walk to Queen Charlotte’s.

  What a bore public transport is, observed Ivy. I do hope I don’t have to use it for long.

  At the entrance to the hospital was a flower stall, and, at Ursula’s insistence, they had a large, hand-tied bouquet made up specially. “We can’t give Cassie any old prearranged bunch,” she insisted. “We’ll spend what we saved on fares.”

  Clearly she’s got different priorities, thought Ivy.

  It all served to delay the moment of truth, and, as she stood waiting for the florist to tie the cellophane wrapper, Ivy became increasingly apprehensive. Locating the right ward involved yet more hassle; they took a wrong turn and ended up wandering around in confusion. Eventually, they found Cassie.

  Ursula led the way, bearing the bouquet before her like a flag.

  “Hello.” She beamed. “We thought we’d surprise you.”

  Ivy wasn’t sure, but it seemed that Cassie blanched at the sight of them, although because she was paler than usual it was hard to tell. Ivy gave her a rapid once-over. Devoid of all makeup, blond hair bedraggled and in need of a wash, she appeared a different person entirely.

  If I didn’t dislike her so much, I might feel sorry for her, thought Ivy. She looks so young, almost vulnerable. I suppose she is thousands of miles from her home and family.

  “Hi,” whispered Cassie, weakly. Whether the weakness sprang from shock or physical exhaustion was difficult to ascertain.

  “He-ello,” said Orianna.

  Hmm, thought Ivy. She sounds on edge too.

  “Hey,” she said, not sure of an appropriate greeting.

  Ursula seemed determined to make up for the rest of their hesitancy. “Where’s the baby? Can we have a look?”

  “The nurse has him. She’s taken him away for some measurements. She’ll bring him back in a sec.”

  “Oh,” said Ursula, deflated. “Never mind, we’ll wait a bit, won’t we?”

  Ivy and Orianna nodded.

  “So,” she continued breezily. “Shall I get a vase for these?”

  “They’re lovely.” Cassie smiled. “Thank you.”

  “They don’t really need a vase,” observed Orianna. The bouquet had its own globe of water. “I guess you’re going home soon, aren’t you? They’ll be easier to carry tied up like that.”

  “You’re right,” said Cassie. “We’re out of here tomorrow.”

  “Oh, OK.” Ursula propped them on top of Cassie’s bedside cabinet and she pulled up a battered plastic chair. Ivy and Orianna followed her cue; Orianna sat on the one armchair, Ivy perched on the edge of the bed.

  Perhaps I can steer the subject away from the baby’s paternity, thought Ivy. “How was the labor?” she asked.

  Cassie grimaced. “Grim. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise—it’s bloody agony.”

  “I gather Leon was with you,” said Ursula.

  “Yes, he was.” Again, was it Ivy’s imagination, or was Cassie avoiding Ursula’s gaze?

  “Must have been a bit of a hero.”

  “You could say so. He’s been very good to me lately.”

  To Ivy’s complete surprise, Orianna piped up, “Have you been seeing him then?”

  Now there was no question—Cassie was fazed.

  A long silence followed.

  At last Cassie said, “Kind of.”

  Well that doesn’t help at all, thought Ivy.

  At that moment the nurse returned, wheeling the baby in a clear plastic crib.

  “Here he is,” she said.

  Ursula shifted her chair, Orianna jumped up, Ivy got to her feet; all so the nurse could edge the cot in alongside Cassie’s bed. It also meant they could peer at its contents.

  And there, wrapped up in a pale blue blanket, face scrunched up like a little old man, was the baby.

  Make no mistake: he was white.

  * * *

  “Oooh he’s lovely,” cooed Ursula.

  “Isn’t he?” echoed Ivy.

  Orianna couldn’t think of what to say. She was devastated. For a while she’d been praying the baby would turn out not to be Dan’s. Now, though she was no expert in ethnology, she knew there was no way this child could be Leon’s.

  She peered down at the tiny bundle; his hair all dark and matted, his face wrinkled and pink as he slept. She felt like weeping. What an awful mistake to have come—a crazy idea. It was only because she’d hoped—though the chance was very slim—she might discover the baby wasn’t Dan’s that she’d agreed to visit. And here she was, looking at Dan’s child, the little boy part of her still felt should be hers.

  Yet Orianna wasn’t the only one finding the situation hard to handle; she could sense Ursula brimming with curiosity beside her. Orianna knew she’d been far more convinced the baby was Leon’s than anyone, and eventually she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

  “Cassie,” she said, with the same authoritarian tone she used when briefing a crucial piece of work, “I thought the baby was Leon’s, but it’s obvious he’s not.” Orianna’s heart was thumping faster than ever now, her palms were sweaty, she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “So tell me, please. Just who is the father of this child?”

  Again there was a long silence.

  Cassie looked around at the three of them, evidently trying to decide whether or not to confess. Finally, exhaustion seemed to get the better of her; after all the physical and mental exertion of the last few days, she could bear keeping the secret no longer.

  “Russell,” she said.

  41. Heaven truly knows thou art as false as hell

  “But I thought it was Leon’s!” cried Ursula.

  “But I thought it was Dan’s!” cried Orianna.

  “But it can’t possibly be Russell’s!” cried Ivy.

  They all spoke at once, so only the end of Ivy’s sentence was audible.

  “Shh.” Cassie put her finger to her lips. “You’ll wake the baby.” She turned to Ivy. “What do you mean it can’t possibly be Russell’s?” She stared at her, hard. “I think I should know.”

  Such was Ivy’s astonishment that she started to shake from head to foot. Luckily she was sitting down already, or she’d have had to anyway. Then, as she absorbed what Cassie was saying, jealousy surged through her like an electric shock, a jealousy more intense than she’d ever felt before. It jolted her entire nervous system, striking at her very sense of self, calling everything into question.

  Cassie’s slept with Russell? she thought. How can that be? Russell is sleeping with me! It surpasses belief!

  It was impossible to get her head around it. She was going to faint. Be sick. Or both. Everything was swimming in front of her—Orianna, Ursula, Cassie; their faces anxious, quizzical, defiant …

  Like pennies dropping in a slot machine, the rea
lizations tumbled thick and fast.

  Woah, she thought. I saw Russell eyeing Cassie up, didn’t I? On Cassie’s first day, all that time ago. So there was no doubt he was attracted to her from the outset. Plus, come to think of it, I’ve been the one to initiate our clandestine liaisons over recent months. Take my birthday in October—and it wasn’t the only time …

  Ivy had assumed she was the strong one in the relationship, so—as with Ed—had been slow to pick up on the signs. And what about the lecture he’d given on her expenses? How typical that he should feel he could shaft her financially—the moment screwing her no longer paid!

  Before she could finish unscrambling it all, her thoughts were broken by Ursula. “So you’ve not been seeing Leon?” she said to Cassie.

  “I had been, yes,” Cassie answered, with surprising directness. “So I did think the baby might be his. But now—why lie? It’s obvious that’s not the case.”

  Tentatively, Ursula probed. “So—er—let me get this straight. You’ve been having a thing with Russell then?”

  “I suppose you could put it like that.” She paused. “We slept together a few times, if you must know.”

  “Before Leon?”

  Cassie looked sheepish. “I was—er—sleeping with them both, just for a while.”

  Hence the confusion, concluded Ivy. It confirmed what she’d figured, still, it pained her greatly. She’d been cheated on not just by Ed, but Russell too. She’d been made to look a fool. Maybe not deliberately by Cassie, yet she was certain Russell had known exactly what he was playing at. Doubtless he’d gotten off on the duplicity.

  “Oh.” Ursula sat back in the plastic chair, winded. Then she added, “But you realize Russell’s married?”

  Cassie snorted. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Ah. Right.” There was a moment’s silence. “That didn’t stop you?”

  “He came on to me,” explained Cassie, with a shrug of her shoulders.