Fear

by Nina Manning

‘Ok, I’ll just finish this report and then I’ll come.’

  ‘Great. See you shortly.’

  I stood outside Mason’s office and knocked as I always did.

  ‘Come in,’ Mason called, I could see he was sitting at the far end of the conference table.

  ‘Hey, grab a drink.’ He pointed to the fridge.

  I picked out a sparkling water and sat down in the chair next to him.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m good.’

  ‘Did you sleep well, recovered from the all the travelling and monumental sales pitches?’

  ‘Ha, yes, it was great practice.’

  ‘If that was practice, I’d like to see you in full throttle. It was great, Frankie, you should be so proud.’ Mason looked at me for a second, his eyes trying to say something his mouth wasn’t.

  ‘Thanks.’ I looked down at my hands, knowing that this was all small talk, an aperitif to the main course which was building up. Mason had told me all this already, I knew he was happy and proud.

  ‘It’s my birthday, tomorrow,’ he said softly.

  ‘What? Why didn’t I know this?’ I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it when we were in Belgium.

  ‘I’m sure Penelope will be sending a card around later. I’m having a dinner party at my house this weekend. You should come. Bring your husband.’

  ‘What? Really?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t want him getting grouchy because you are off spending all this time with me working. Let him meet me.’

  ‘You’re weird.’

  ‘No, it’s perfectly normal thing to do, I often invite colleagues and their husbands.’

  ‘Even the colleagues you almost kissed,’ I said quietly.

  ‘In Belgium.’

  ‘So what happened in Belgium really does stay in Belgium.’

  ‘If that’s what you want?’

  ‘I don’t know what I want, Mason.’

  ‘Well, that’s okay too. You have a lifetime to decide.’

  I sniffed out a laugh. ‘That’s a fairly profound statement.’

  ‘I like words. I read a lot. You don’t see me when I’m tucked up in my bed at night with my teddy and books.’

  ‘Conjuring up that image now.’ I looked to my left and squinted my eyes. ‘PJs or no PJs?’ I quipped.

  ‘Now you’re asking.’ Mason tried to smile but it looked forced. We could both feel the strain underneath the banter. What we both wanted but couldn’t have. ‘So, I’ll see you at eight on Saturday then?’

  ‘You’re hopeful?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Okay. 8 p.m. Saturday. I’ll drop the reports from the Belgium trip on your desk later.’

  ‘Wow, speedy work.’

  I stood to leave.

  ‘You’re a brilliant asset to the company. I don’t think I could do without you now.’ Mason stood up as well and was suddenly very close to me.

  I looked at him for a moment, gave him a small smile and then turned to walk away. As I did, I felt the air suddenly become a little icier and a small shudder crept its way across my back. I pulled my cardigan around me a little tighter and walked away without looking back.

  I left the office at lunchtime, stopped at the delicatessen on the high street and picked up some cheese for supper. Only when I had left the shop did I realise I had unconsciously picked up Damian’s favourite. The weather was unseasonably warm, one of the rare yet most enjoyable times of autumn, when there was a short window to appreciate the warmth muddled with the array of oranges and yellows falling all around you. Distracted, I realised I had taken a different route back to the office, one I didn’t usually take, and I found myself on a part of the street I hadn’t walked down for years. I had purposely kept away from it for so long because I was terrified of what I might find. Or who I might find.

  I was now in the shade. All the sunlight had gone and had been replaced with dark grey shadows from the buildings on this side of the street. On the other side of the road I could see I was approaching the big superstore. The back entrance was next to a long wide alley. It was densely populated day and night. Druggies, drunks. The homeless. My heart began to beat faster and my mouth became dry when I realised where I had inadvertently found myself. I was already halfway down the road, I could have turned and run the other way, got back to the roads I knew best, which I trusted to keep me safe these days. But something drove me on, an urge to see what I had been hiding from for too long. The text messages, the birthday card, the feelings that were brought back. I knew what was out there, usually lurking in the shadows. I could see plainly the whole side of the street was lit up by the midday sun but I hung to the right, feeling some protection from the buildings next to me. I felt the flight or fight instinct kick in way before I saw the figure crouched in the opening to the alleyway. And when I did, I stopped so suddenly that the person walking behind me collided with me.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I muttered as they tutted and skirted round me. I pushed my back against the wall, felt the protection of the concrete. As I stood with my hands pressed against the craggy wall, as though my presence had been felt, the figure lifted their head.

  And for the second time that week I looked into the eyes of the person I hadn’t seen or spoken to in almost twenty years.

  35

  Now

  I decided to risk another session after work with the office crew in the Chambers. I didn’t wish to get close to them, but I needed to get them on my side. Specifically Stella, who seemed to be a bit distant, and Lil, who couldn’t stop herself giving me long looks across the office. Penelope was a complete enigma. I decided I wasn’t ever going to understand her. I was feeling shaken after my lunchtime encounter and a quick drink before I went home would calm my nerves. I kept my time in the pub short, limited myself to two drinks. There were a few raucous protests from Fish, and Lil eyed me suspiciously. But I stuck to my guns and proudly finished my second drink and headed home to begin my weekend with my family.

  ‘Thanks for getting this cheese,’ Damian said as he sliced the Cambozola onto his crackers in great chunks.

  I almost said to Damian, who I was still cross with for storming out of the restaurant and leaving me with the figure glaring through the window, that I had not intended to pick up his cheese, it was merely a habit. Perhaps something that encompassed our relationship more than we would care to realise.

  ‘We’ve been invited to Mason’s birthday dinner at his apartment on Saturday night,’ I said casually.

  ‘Birthday dinner?’

  ‘Yes. Birthday dinner.’ I could hear the tension in my voice mirroring Damian’s.

  ‘Why are we invited? You’ve been working for him for like five minutes and he doesn’t know me.’

  ‘Well, that’s the point of a dinner party, to get to know people. I guess once you start to mix business and leisure you’ve made it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, Mason thinks I’m a valuable member of the team. I’ve made great progress in a short period of time and he sees loads of potential in me. By going to this dinner on Saturday night it shows I am committed to this job as a lifestyle choice as much as just a job.’

  ‘Why can’t it be just a job? Why must it be your life?’ Damian pulled an expression I considered to be a little immature.

  ‘Because jobs are part of our lives. We can’t just separate the two. I come home and still think of to-do lists and I sit at my desk at work and plan meals for home. It’s all encompassing. This is the best way, Damian. If you just embrace it, life becomes a little easier.’

  I watched Damian’s face contort as he chewed over my words.

  I pushed the thoughts of the past few weeks aside, the bits I didn’t want to think about, the text messages, the card, the earring on the floor. The face of the person I had seen on the way home. Twenty years is such a long time to miss someone and not speak to them. But equally I was terrified what they thought of me and how I could possibly atone for w
hat had happened all those years ago.

  ‘And you’re sure he definitely said for me to come?’

  Damian stood in our bedroom on Saturday evening.

  ‘Damian, I’ve said it a hundred times and now Aimee is booked, if you don’t want to come, don’t bother, but I have to go.’

  ‘I don’t get it. It’s his birthday and you’re his employee and yet he wants you there?’

  ‘It’s a free meal, he is bringing in a chef and we get a night out and you get to finally meet my boss. It’s all good!’

  ‘Fine,’ Damian huffed, struggling with his tie.

  ‘Are you sure you want to wear that thing, why don’t you wear an open collar and that blue suit jacket, it’s just a casual dinner.’

  The doorbell rang and I looked at Damian, as I was poised half in a pair of tights.

  ‘Right, I’ll get it then,’ he huffed, throwing the discarded tie on the bed as he left.

  ‘Thanks,’ I called feebly after him.

  I finished getting ready and put on a blue vee-neck dress with some silver sparkles, scooped in the middle to create the ‘thinning look’.

  Damian came back upstairs. ‘You’re wearing that, that’s dressy and you’re telling me not to wear a tie?’

  ‘I just don’t think anyone will be wearing a tie, that’s all. Besides, we match, you’re wearing the blue suit jacket and this is blue. It’s fine, Damian, stop stressing.’

  We arrived downstairs to Aimee looking as keen as she always did.

  ‘Wow, Frankie, you look very nice,’ she said and I tried to gauge anything other than innocence in her voice. Perhaps I’d raise my concerns with Damian tonight after a glass of wine or two. Maybe he could find a device to install in the house so we could watch her. Or was that crossing a boundary?

  I grabbed a few last minute items and threw them into my handbag. All the while I couldn’t help but notice Aimee’s gaze was on me. I stopped racing around and stood in front of her. I put my hands on my hips for extra effect; I had heard it showed assertiveness and power.

  ‘How are you, Aimee?’ I asked super confidently boarding on sarcastic. I saw Damian turn his head out of the corner of my eye. Aimee didn’t seem to notice any tone to my voice.

  ‘I’m good, thanks, Frankie. Very busy start to the school year. I got picked for the hockey team!’

  ‘The hockey team, wow, is that… good?’ I saw Damian turn his head to look at me full on this time. ‘I mean, I don’t know, I hated hockey at school, all those big grey pants, freezing my arse off running around on pitch and then the fear of being hit in the shin with a hockey stick.’ I wrinkled my nose.

  ‘We wear thermal underwear, jogging bottoms and hoodies and shin pads. I really like it. I didn’t get picked last year because…’ Aimee looked down at her feet, ‘because, well it doesn’t matter.’ I looked at Damian and we exchanged a concerned look; it was the most genuine interaction we’d had in weeks. We both recognised that stunted response of a young girl trying to say something. I suddenly felt an enormous amount of sadness for Aimee and guilt at my poor attempt at a power trip.

  I made a mental note to check in with Aimee later after the party, to make sure she was okay. Maybe there was something else going on that I needed to know about. I was leaving her in charge of the two most precious things in my life, after all.

  I pressed the apartment button.

  Damian had laughed and laughed in a sort of semi-malicious tone when I said it was the penthouse.

  ‘Of course it is,’ he snarled.

  The front door made a small buzzing sound and we walked into a grand foyer with lifts to the right and stairs to the left.

  We stood in silence as the lift climbed the twelve floors to the top. Damian looked at his shoes, flicked some specks of white from his shoulder and ran his hands through his hair, all acts of a self-consciousness male about to meet his wife’s high-powered boss for the first time. But something prevented me from reaching down and grasping his hand with mine and giving it a small squeeze of reassurance.

  As soon as the lift doors opened, we heard a loud raucous laughter.

  Damian looked at me with disdain and let out a sigh. I felt the bubble of irritation rise inside me.

  I led the way out of the lift and double checked that Damian was with me, just in case he decided to pull another stunt like the one at the restaurant. There were only two apartments on the top floor. Mason’s was the one to our left. The raucous laughter continued to come at us loud and strong. I rang the doorbell, which this time rang out long and shrill. A few seconds passed and a woman swung open the door. Her hair was blonde and shoulder length; she flicked it from one side to the other as she spoke.

  ‘More guests! Hooray!’ I put her at about fifty because of a few wrinkles around her eyes. She was tanned and wore a black dress with a gold-trimmed plunging neckline revealing half of her breasts, which were small and flat. She continued to fling her hair from side to side and I noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes. I wondered if that was the policy. She stepped aside to let us through.

  ‘I’m Kate.’ She held her hand out. Damian thrust his hand into hers too quickly for my liking, and when she laughed Damian and I clocked one another as we realised who the raucous laugh belonged to.

  ‘Oh no, silly, I was taking your bottle, I’ll pop it in the fridge to chill!’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Damian handed over the bottle of champagne I had agonised over for ages in the supermarket, trying to decide which one would taste delicious at a reasonable price.

  ‘Come through,’ Kate said, looking at neither of us and instead inspecting the bottle of champagne. I watched her closely.

  ‘Oooh, lovely’ she said at last. Mason had specifically said not to bring presents, but a bottle was general dinner party etiquette. Never turn up to someone’s house empty handed was my motto.

  Kate walked us down a long hallway with rooms leading off on either side. All the doors were closed, then we were through to a large open plan lounge, kitchen and diner. The kitchen was to the right with a large dining table on the other side. To the left was a huge lounge area with low flat sofas, a huge white coffee table in the centre and a massive LED TV screen mounted on the wall. I noticed the very same painting that I had seen in the restaurant when Damian and I had celebrated my new job. I figured this was the original. I became mesmerised in the different swirls of Mediterranean colours of orange, blues and yellow.

  ‘Our three year old kid could do better than that,’ Damian whispered into my ear.

  ‘It’s a surrealist piece, I picked it up in Italy about twenty-five years ago, guess I always knew I’d be a bachelor as I have never been able to get any woman to love it as much as I do.’ Mason’s confident voice came from behind us and we both swung round. I could see the look of horror etching its way across Damian’s face.

  ‘You must be Damian?’ Mason held out his hand which Damian shook firmly, asserting himself and hoping to rectify his insolent comment.

  We both took in Mason who was head to toe in black tuxedo dress complete with a black bow tie and maroon cummerbund. As I looked about the room I could see another five or six men all wearing tuxedos and one curly haired man in orange trousers, purple shirt and pink tie. We all turned to look as he made his way nosily past us.

  ‘Back in a second, darling, total disaster with the music system.’ He skimmed past us and Mason smiled. ‘That’s Mo, he lives in the suite opposite.’

  Mason patted Damian on the back. ‘Great to meet you, bud. Thanks for being here tonight. It means a great deal to have Frankie here. Has she told you how wonderful she is at her job? A complete natural, don’t know where she has been hiding all this time.’ Mason looked over at me, ‘Good to see you, girl.’

  I glanced at Damian who looked as though he was chewing on something that wasn’t there. Then he started to do that thing he does when he wants to assert his authority over another male; he started rubbing his nose and pushing his shoulders into his back
. I looked on as this horror show began to unfold before me and I quickly turned to Mason.

  ‘So, where’s the punch?’ I said, ‘This is a party, right? Got to be a bowl of punch somewhere?’

  Mason laughed. ‘Can’t say there’s been a bowl of punch at one of my parties since 1987.’ Then he gave Damian a light slap on the back. ‘Right, let me show you where the beers are, unless you’re a champagne man? Obviously, the whisky comes later. What can I get you? You name it.’ He began escorting Damian away. I was left standing in the doorway wondering what the hell to do, still undecided about removing my shoes, then I heard a voice behind me.

  ‘Madam, can I get you a drink?’ There was a young waitress in a white shirt, black skirt and a long black apron down to her shins balancing a round black tray on her palm. There were three glasses of champagne on it.

  ‘Oh yes, champagne, definitely.’ I took a glass and drank half. A second waitress appeared with a tray carrying something nibbly. I felt my stomach rumble at the sight of it.

  ‘Crispy beef in lettuce parcel, madam?’

  ‘Oh yes, please.’ I grabbed one and when they went by a minute later, I grabbed another. Kate’s raucous laugh found its way over from the other side of the room. I occasionally eyed Damian who was being shown the bar and its entire stock by all accounts.

  ‘Great suite, isn’t it?’ I heard behind me. It was Mo, back and holding a stack of CDs. ‘Yet can you believe he doesn’t own one piece of decent technology? Not even a docking station. A hifi, that’s what he has! I mean, I just had to go back and scour though my early nineties CDs to find something worthy of listening to. You need ambience at a party, don’t you think? Even if it will end up being the Corrs!’

  Mo held up a CD with the faces of the three beautiful Irish women on the front.

  ‘Ridiculously attractive women,’ I said, deadpan.

  ‘Annoyingly so. Never quite trusted them. Steely eyes, all of them,’ Mo replied.