by CJ Morrow
Cyril Doppelganger was also wearing a serious face, and, if Lily read him correctly, an angry one. He didn’t even bother smiling when Lily came in, just nodded and muttered, ‘thanks for coming.’ Then he stood up and removed his suit jacket revealing a fitted shirt that showed off his physique. Lily’s treacherous stomach flipped involuntarily.
They hadn’t even started the meeting, had barely sat down, when Veronica bustled in with a tray of coffees in cardboard cups. She’d been over the road to the Costa. There were muffins too.
‘I hope you like coffee,’ Cyril said, a brief smile flickered across his face. I find by this time of day I’m flagging and need the caffeine hit.’
‘Me too,’ Heather said, grabbing her cup. ‘And I certainly need that muffin.’
Lily wondered if Oliver had also complained about her calling him a muffin top.
They spent the next five minutes politely eating and wittering on about muffins and coffee. No sooner had they finished than Veronica bustled in again, this time with a jug of water and three glasses.
Lily wondered when they were actually going to discuss Oily Bastard. Oliver Banstead she mentally corrected; that’s his name, stick with it.
Finally Veronica was gone, the water was poured and it was nearly five pm.
Cyril cleared his throat, took a sip of water and looked Lily full in the eye. It gave her an involuntary shudder as it brought back memories of Jackson and that first night in the beach hut. No. No, she said to herself then flicked a quick glance at Heather to ensure she hadn’t said it out loud.
‘So,’ Cyril began. ‘I understand that Oliver Banstead has made a complaint against you and you are counter-complaining.
‘I suppose I am.’ She hadn’t thought of it like that, but what the hell.
‘According to his complaint you used offensive language.’ Was that a hint of a smirk on Cyril’s face? ‘And you told him that Oily Bastard was his company nickname.’
‘I did. I’m not denying it.’ Because all of it is true.
‘The question for me is why you felt the need to say that.’
‘I said it because he leered at me and made suggestions about my shoes. Also, it’s true. Everyone does call him that.’
‘Your shoes? Ah yes, he does mention your shoes. He says he rescued one from the drain and gave it back to you.’ Now Cyril was definitely smirking; he had, after all, witnessed the shoe stuck in drain fiasco from this very office. ‘He also says that you weren’t particularly grateful.’
‘Did he tell you that he would like to see me in those shoes?’
‘Well that doesn’t sound particularly offensive,’ Heather chipped in.
Lily watched a momentary frown play across Cyril’s brow.
‘Well you weren’t there, Heather. It was the way it was said. He was salivating. And he barred my way, he wouldn’t let me past.’
‘Shame you don’t have a witness. Unlike our Mr Banstead who apparently does.’ Cyril was flicking through the papers before him, he reminded Lily of a judge.
He reminded Lily of Jackson.
Stop looking at him, she chided herself. Damon’s comment popped into her head: they made a handsome couple – Cyril and his French wife. There was no doubting that.
‘Oliver is clever like that,’ Lily said detecting, if not exactly sympathy, then certainly not antipathy towards her. ‘That’s why there have never been complaints in the past.’
‘Oh, but there have.’
Heather sat up straight. A line had been crossed; Cyril had spoken out of turn. Heather sounded flustered when she spoke. ‘None were upheld.’
‘No, but as Lily has just pointed out, Oliver is clever. Heather, how thoroughly were these old complaints investigated? Some go back ten years.’
‘I don’t know; that’s before my time.’
‘This latest one is only, let me see…’ Cyril thumbed back through his papers again. ‘Six months ago. Mmm, again no witnesses.’
‘I don’t think we should be discussing this in front of Lily. It might prejudice her case.’
‘I’m not taking the complaint against Lily seriously,’ Cyril said dismissively.
Lily sat observing the exchange between Cyril and Heather and wondered what the hell was going on.
‘I…I…I don’t think this conversation is appropriate.’ Heather almost choked before swallowing hard. Maybe she had a piece of muffin stuck in her throat; Lily was just considering hitting her on the back when she blurted out, ‘perhaps Lily should leave if we are to discuss other complaints.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Cyril said, without looking up from the papers. ‘Lily you implied that he has a reputation for this sort of thing, what else have you heard?’
Heather’s eyes widened like saucers, her chin came out and she gulped again. ‘This really isn’t appropriate,’ she said, standing up.
‘Sit down, Heather. This is off the record.’ He leaned over and poured her another glass of water and passed it to her. ‘Take another sip and stop worrying.’
Heather picked up the glass and took several large gulps. Her neck was covered in red blotches and her cheeks were pink and prominent. Lily had never seen her looking so anxious.
‘From what I can see complaints against Mr Banstead are bordering on regular, at least three times a year. And, it looks to me as though this has been going on for years. Who investigated the last one? And don’t say it was before your time.’
‘Not me.’ Heather now looked angry, affronted. ‘I take the complaint and pass it on. Your predecessor or Mr Benson made the decisions.’
‘Did they interview the complainants?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t get involved.’
‘Does it ever go to the board?’
‘I’ve just said I don’t know.’ Heather sounded defensive.
Cyril glanced at Heather and smiled. Lily felt her stomach flip, her heart race a little. Why did he have to be so like Jackson? Get that image out of your head, she told herself. Stop thinking about Jackson. Start thinking about Mireille, The French Lady, Cyril’s wife. Even if you wanted to, which you don’t, how could you compete with her?
‘Heather, what I’d like you to do is to give Veronica a list of all the complainants so she can arrange for me to see them all.’
‘Even the ones who’ve left?’ Heather’s face was very pink now, pink and angry.
‘Not yet.’ Cyril gave Heather a sharp sardonic smile and he seemed to enjoy her discomfort.
Inside Lily winced; he’s horrible, she thought, not at all like Jackson. Thank God.
‘Right. Good. I’m not about much next week, so it will probably be Thursday or Friday before I get back to this. Lily,’ Cyril said, focussing his attention on her, his blue eyes delving into her soul. ‘In the meantime, I know that you won’t be discussing any of this with anyone else. I need this to be confidential.’
‘Of course,’ Lily said, annoyed that he had felt the need to mention it. She felt her face heat up, her irritation now almost matching Heather’s.
‘Well, I think we’re done here,’ Cyril said, barely suppressing a sigh.
‘Is it me or is it warm in here?’ Heather said, taking another gulp of water. ‘I’ll be glad to get outside and get some fresh air.’ She stood up.
‘It is warm. The air-con in this building isn’t very affective, is it?’ Cyril unbuttoned his right cuff and rolled his shirt sleeve up a little. His forearm was strong and tanned. He unbuttoned his left sleeve and began to roll it up.
Lily gasped.
Cyril clamped his hand over his wrist, but not before Lily saw it. Not before she saw the mermaid tattoo peeking out from beneath his Tag Heuer watch.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. A sudden flash and then Lily ran out of the office. She was back at her desk, hyperventilating and grateful that the meeting had run over and everyone else had gone home. Grateful that there was no one around to witness her shock. Or horror.
Was he Jackson? Could t
wo men have the same tattoo and look so alike? Why hadn’t he declared himself on their first meeting?
Why hadn’t she?
‘So you just ran out of his office without saying anything?’ Tess shook her head in disbelief.
‘Yes. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Are you absolutely sure it’s him and are you absolutely sure that he knows you now know? People pick their tattoos out of books; it’s like choosing from a catalogue. Dozens of people could have that tattoo.’
‘It was in exactly the same place as Jackson’s, we’d even joked about it.’
‘Definitely him?’
‘No doubt. Our eyes met and in that moment a thousands words were spoken without us saying anything.’ Had it really been like that? Or was Lily imagining it? No, she was convinced he now knew she had recognised him.
‘What I don’t understand,’ Tess said, ‘is why he didn’t say anything at your first meeting? Why the pretence?’
Lily sighed. Hadn’t she been over this a thousand times in her head? Hadn’t she examined the problem from all angles? She’d even scrutinized the sneaky photos she’d taken of Jackson, zooming in to get a good look at his face.
‘Because he’s a fraud. He even uses a fake name. He’s a lying bastard. Oh, and did I mention that he’s married?’
‘What? No.’
‘Oh yes. I’ve met Mireille. She’s chic, tall, wafer thin, and very French. They make a handsome couple, that’s what Damon said. And he’s right.’ And with those snap thin ankles she’d never have a problem squeezing her thighs into a wetsuit; though Mireille didn’t seem the type to launch herself onto a surfboard. ‘She came into the office to meet him for lunch, but they’d got their dates confused. She swanned around as if she owned the place according to Damon.’
‘I don’t know what to say. He seemed so genuine on holiday. That lovely barbecue he threw for us; that lovely house, him teaching you to surf.’
‘All part of the charade. He probably doesn’t own that house.’ Had he actually said he did? She couldn’t remember. Lily wondered how many lies he’d told her. ‘Not that I would be any the wiser or care if he hadn’t turned up in my real life. It was only supposed to be a holiday romance. I never expected anything else. I’ve got my own life too. And he’s invading it.’ No past, no present and no strings – that’s what they’d agreed. Was it him? Was it? Even now, even with the tattoo evidence she was beginning to doubt herself. Maybe Tess was right; maybe those mermaid tattoos on wrists were a fashion that many men had, and women too, probably.
‘Did you say his hair was dark? Because Jackson had fair hair.’
‘Yes. But it’s short now, close cropped. I think his hair was just bleached and brittle before.’
‘Yes,’ Tess agreed, nodding. She picked up her phone. ‘Let’s ring him. Let’s get to the bottom of this.’
‘No. Anyway, I don’t have his number.’ Lily remembered the sadness she’d felt when they had deleted phone numbers together.
‘I do.’ Tess pulled it up on her screen, put speaker on and dialled. They both listened as a message told them the phone was switched off.
‘Anyway,’ Lily said, summoning her resolve and putting on a cheery voice. ‘I didn’t come here to moan about work, or Cyril-Jackson-Montgomery-Fake or whatever his stupid name is. I came to see your ring and say congratulations.’ Lily grabbed Tess’s left hand and pulled it to her. The ring was beautiful, understated and classic. Just like Tess really. ‘It’s lovely. It so suits you.’
‘Thank you.’ Tess smiled shyly while looking at the ring; her face lit up, her eyes softened.
‘So you’re a sly one, I didn’t see that coming.’
‘Neither did I, but when Gareth asked, it seemed like the most natural, normal and wonderful thing in the world. I know it might seem rushed to other people, but really, we feel as though we’ve known each other all our lives. Can you imagine that?’
‘Sort of, I’ve known Will for most of my life.’ Well, better part of ten years anyway but there’d been no mention of rings or commitments. Even the giving of the key had housekeeper and nurse duties attached. ‘I have champagne for you and Gareth and a card.’ She handed over the glitzy bag she’d bought especially. ‘You make a lovely couple, he seems like a lovely guy and you deserve to have a lovely life.’
‘Ahh, thank you. It does feel so right. I’ve met his parents already.’
‘Has he met yours?’
‘Tomorrow. We’re going out for dinner with them.’
‘Has he met Gemma yet?’
‘No,’ Tess laughed. ‘But I have warned him.’ She looked wistful. ‘But he’s so nice that I don’t think that even Gemma can object to him.’
‘Not like she does to me, eh?’ Lily laughed now. ‘How is she?’
‘Oh, you won’t have heard. She’s got herself a job. It’s two days a week at a PR and advertising agency.’
‘What does she do?’ Lily imagined Gemma calling the tune and bossing everyone around.
‘Creative Detailer is her job title.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I don’t really know. I think she has ideas.’ Tess giggled.
‘Yes, I can imagine. Well, good for her. What made her decide to do that? I mean, she was ranting about having another baby, or not.’
‘Well, I find it best not to ask or get involved. My brother is as good at managing Gemma as she thinks she is at managing him. They’re quite well matched.’ Tess smiled, a wistful look in her eye. ‘I’ll be happy if my marriage is as successful as Gemma and Joe’s, despite how it looks from the outside.’
‘Have you set a date yet?’ Lily anticipated a white wedding two years in the future, several bridesmaids, including Pixie-Bella and, of course, Lily as maid of honour.
‘Soon as we can arrange it. Probably three to four months.’
‘Did you just say three to four months?’ Lily was incredulous.
‘Yes. We don’t want to wait. We don’t want anything extravagant. It’s about us, not the ceremony. We’ve waited a long time to meet each other; we don’t want to waste another moment.’
‘I’m really happy for you. Congratulations.’ Lily hoped Tess wasn’t rushing into this, but she was right, she had waited a long time. It had been their little joke that Tess was just too fussy, too exacting. She’d had few boyfriends and none of them serious.
As Lily was leaving Tess’s, Will messaged her, asking where she was, wondering if she could pick up a takeaway he’d ordered on her way over. It was nearly ten pm and she didn’t relish the prospect of queuing up at the Chinese. She was about to message him back when he rang her.
‘Hey babe, don’t worry about picking up my dinner, just get yourself over here, they’re going to deliver it. I’ve ordered you Crispy Aromatic Duck; I know how you love that.’ She didn’t love it at all; it was just the dish she least objected to. He rung off as soon as she voiced a tentative okay.
That was that, she was going to Will’s.
The takeaway arrived two minutes after Lily had let herself into Will’s house using the key. She called out to him, and, as expected, found him lounging on the sofa, remote control in hand. He pressed pause when he heard the delivery driver knock on the door. Lily turned back to answer it. They ate hurriedly, neither speaking as Will watched a car show on TV. She wondered if he realised that the vegetables were mixed into the dishes. She considered telling him.
‘You haven’t noticed,’ he said after Lily had cleared up.
‘Noticed what?’ She was too tired for guessing games. After the Jackson-slash-Cyril revelation – unless it was her imagination – and Tess’s sudden wedding plans, she really had had enough for one day.
‘Look.’ Will pointed to his injured foot, which was propped up on a footstool. The cast was bright blue, new and clean.
‘Oh. Another cast. Already?’
‘Yeah. Look. It’s got a heel too. So I can put a bit of weight on it. The other one was rubbing really
badly, so I went up this afternoon. They x-rayed and said it was healing so well I could have the heel. Great eh?’ He smiled one of his heart-melting smiles and Lily briefly remembered just why she’d loved him for so long.
‘How did you get up there?’
‘Well, when you weren’t available, I got a taxi.’ He shrugged.
Lily frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That Damon guy said you were preparing for a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed, so I got a taxi.’ He paused, watched her face as she thought about what he was saying. ‘I know I’ve taken you for granted since I came back.’ He took her hand and rubbed the back of it. ‘I don’t mean to. I know I can be a bit of an arse. I’m sorry.’
Lily felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She inhaled through her nose and blinked them away and changed the subject.
‘Did I tell you, Tess got engaged to Gareth yesterday?’
‘Who? No.’
‘Gareth, they’ve only been together for a few months, weeks really. Funny, eh?’
‘Ah.’ He pulled her closer to him on the sofa; it meant Lily had to shuffle along. Her skirt rucked up and formed a knot in her back as Will wrapped his arm around her shoulder. ‘Is that what you want?’
Was it? She didn’t know anymore. She looked at Will, his liquid brown eyes, his thick wavy hair, his chiselled, model-good looks.
He leaned over her and pushed her backwards, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her, deeply, longingly and for the first time since he’d buggered off on his biking holiday. It was a good kiss, but not quite good enough to distract her from the skirt-knot now pressing painfully into her left buttock.
Seventeen
Lily awoke first and for a moment didn’t know where she was, then she remembered and wondered if staying overnight with Will had been a good idea. Hadn’t she dumped him? Somehow they had drifted back together without even discussing it.
He dozed beside her, snoring softly; he’d lost weight, or, rather, muscle. Without his regular gym trips his shoulders were already narrower, his pecs less firm; he still looked good though.