by CJ Morrow
Half an hour later, after she’d staggered around the bathroom – should she really have drunk so much shower water – and cleaned her teeth with toothpaste on her finger, she crept downstairs.
Gareth greeted her with a cheery, ‘morning.’
Tess waved from her position in the kitchen, still in her pyjamas, propped up on a kitchen barstool, leaning against the worktop and sipping a giant mug of tea.
‘I’m doing a fry up,’ Gareth said, smiling. He had one of those permanent smiley-faces complete with upturned mouth; the sort of face that no matter how miserable the owner was, they always looked happy. Lily fought an unreasonable urge to slap it. ‘Would you like some?’
He put his arm around Tess who, despite her evident hangover, also looked happy. Lily noticed, probably for the first time, that Tess also had a smiley-face. What a pair they made. Lucky pair.
‘Yes. Thank you,’ Lily heard herself say, even though she just wanted to run and hide and get away from all this happy togetherness.
Gareth piled up Lily’s plate with bacon, eggs, mushrooms, baked beans and fried bread. Lily salivated before the first mouthful was even in her mouth. The restorative effects of fried food and three cups of tea should never be underestimated – especially where a hangover is concerned.
After saying her thank yous and goodbyes, Lily made her way home. She was preparing herself to make a difficult phone call, one she didn’t want to make, but knew she must.
Act like a grownup she told herself.
She dialled the number and waited, hoping it would go straight to voicemail, fully expecting it to.
‘Hi babe,’ Will said as though nothing had happened.
‘Hi Will. Just wanted to check you were okay?’
‘To be honest, I’ve been better. And you?’ His voice was clipped now but he definitely wasn’t on the verge of tears, unlike Lily.
‘Same here.’ She stalled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not too late if you want to change your mind.’
Lily couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer.
‘Babe?’ Will prompted.
Lily swallowed hard, took a big breath, thanked God that she was at home and Will couldn’t see her, forced a smile on her face – wasn’t that supposed to be good phone etiquette, smile and it comes across in your voice – and said, ‘I don’t think that would work. Do you?’
‘No,’ Will said, sounding resigned.
‘I hope we can still be friends.’ As soon as Lily had spoken those fatuous words she wanted to snatch them back. She hated that phrase, the very words that Will had said to her in the message from his American adventure.
‘I don’t think that would work, babe. Do you?’ Now he sounded sombre.
Lily sniffed. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, but the big fat salty drops were already running down her face. ‘Suppose not,’ she whispered.
‘Hey, Will,’ a female voice called in the background. ‘Shower’s running hot now.’
‘Who’s that?’ Lily snapped.
‘Oh, Giselle. She came over to help me. And to cheer me up.’
‘Oh. When did she come over?’
Will was silent for a beat too long. ‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Did she come over last night? Did you get her over as soon as I dropped you off?’
Silence again, then, ‘I’ve got to go. Take care, Lily. Remember the good times.’ He ended the call.
‘Phew,’ Damon sat down at his desk with a thump. ‘That was a bit full-on.’
Lily jumped up, grabbed her notebook and pen, the half completed list from Friday still showing. ‘You were a long time. What was it about?’
Damon raised his eyebrows and forced his mouth down. ‘I can’t say,’ he said, glancing over at The Europeans, whose alert eyes suggested that their ears were already tuned in.
‘Okay. My turn now.’ Lily sounded more confident than she felt, whatever this meeting was about she needed to turn it around to fulfil her own needs and ensure that Heather left the room.
Veronica held a hand up as Lily approached. ‘I said I’d come and get you when he was free.’
‘Oh, but I thought…’ Lily’s voice trailed away as she glanced into the office and saw a red-faced Heather and a purple-faced Oliver Banstead sitting opposite jacketless Jackson-slash-Cyril.
‘I’ll let you know when it’s your turn,’ Veronica snapped. ‘But it’ll probably be an hour.’
‘Thank you,’ Lily said, not at all grateful.
‘I don’t know why Scare-a-von has to be so damned rude,’ Lily said as she and Damon stood in the kitchen munching on biscuits from a packet that definitely didn’t belong to either of them.
‘Because. She’s. A. Bitch,’ Damon said between bites.
‘That’s a bit harsh, but she so is. These are nice biscuits.’
Damon tittered. ‘They’re hers.’ He snatched another one from the box.
‘Oh no. We’ll have to replace them.’
‘Doubt we can. She brought them back from her hols in Croatia.’
‘Oh, then they’re for everyone, that’s okay then.’
Damon picked up the box. ‘Um, no. It says “Veronica’s – do not touch” on the box, in her own fair hand, I think.’ He grabbed another one and forced it into Lily’s hand.
‘No. No,’ she said, waving it around with a giggle.
‘Nice to see you laugh,’ Damon said. ‘First time today?’
‘Put it back in the box,’ Lily said, by way of diversion.
‘No. Have it. She’ll blame me anyway, she always does.’ He giggled. ‘And she’s usually right. Anyway, spill.’
‘What?’
‘Spill. What’s wrong?’
‘Never mind me, you spill. What happened in your meeting?’ Lily absently bit into the biscuit. ‘Look what you’ve made me do; I wasn’t going to eat that one.’
‘I can’t tell you about my meeting. Cyril is going to tell you himself when he meets with you. He told me not to discuss it.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
Damon shrugged.
‘Or that shrug. I’m going, aren’t I? You’re staying and I’m losing my job.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’ Damon picked up the biscuit box and shook it. ‘Oops. Only two left, we might as well finish them off.’ He reached into the box and pulled one out, biting into it with relish.
‘Caught red-handed,’ Veronica boomed from the doorway. ‘I knew it was you.’
‘What?’ Damon said, displaying his best innocent face, as Lily blinked and wished they’d remembered to shut the kitchen door.
‘I knew it was you. All those times you’ve denied it. And you, Lily, I’d have expected better from you.’
‘Sorry,’ Lily muttered like a naughty child. She laid her half-eaten biscuit on the worktop and backed away from it.
‘Sorry,’ Damon echoed, but his voice was high and sing-song. ‘Didn’t realise they were just for you. We thought they were holiday biscuits you’d brought back for everyone. Oh well, there you go.’ He marched past Veronica, rattling the one remaining biscuit in the box and thrust it into her hand. ‘Enjoy.’
Back at their desks they giggled like school children.
‘It’s all right for you; I have to face her again soon.’
Damon pulled his chair up to Lily’s desk just as The Europeans got up to go for coffee. ‘And, she saved you from telling me what’s going on with you!’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve broken it off with Will, haven’t you?’
‘How did… what?’
‘The look on your face when he asked you to marry him. I know that look. How is he?’
‘Well, he’s just fine.’ Lily wondered how quickly he’d rung Giselle.
‘Good. More importantly, how are you?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Been better. You know.’
‘And what about our man?’
‘What man?’
‘Cyril o
r Jackson or whatever his name is? Because I saw the look on his face when Will asked you to marry him.’
‘What look?’ Lily tried to hide the hope in her voice.
‘Mmm, let me think.’ Damon pressed his finger to his forehead. He shook his head.
‘Don’t be such a drama queen, just tell me.’
‘Devastated,’ he whispered before scooting his chair back to his desk.
So it hadn’t been her imagination. Lily’s mouth dropped open just as her phone rang.
‘He’ll see you now,’ Veronica’s clipped voice intoned when Lily answered it.
Twenty-three
Lily stood up and smoothed her clothes down, patted her hair, picked up her notepad again, and raising her eyebrows at Damon as she passed, headed for Jackson-slash-Cyril’s office. She glanced down at her list as she approached Veronica.
‘They’re waiting for you,’ Veronica said as though it were Lily who had kept them waiting.
The smell in the office was one hundred percent Oily Bastard; his greasy odour and smug stench hovered in the air. Heather and Jackson-slash-Cyril both stood up as Lily entered. They looked flushed and exhausted.
‘Phew, it’s warm in here,’ Lily said, regretting her lack of tact as she said it, especially when Heather flapped her hands in front of her face and let her shoulders drop.
Then Lily saw Jackson-slash-Cyril’s eye. Black, blue, purple, yellow at the edges, still puffy. Had she done that? Should she apologise now?
Jackson acknowledged her shock with a quick, straight-lipped smile. Hardly a smile at all, which Lily took as a signal not to mention it.
They went through the motions of smiling and offering drinks – cold water all round, brought in by a reluctant Veronica who plonked the jug on the desk and left without a word.
‘You’ll have to excuse Veronica’s mood, she thinks she should be in here.’ Jackson-slash-Cyril poured them a glass each.
‘Why?’
‘We’ll come to that later. Right, I’ve called this meeting…’ he began before Lily cut in.
‘Excuse me, I requested this meeting. It was postponed from Friday.’
‘Ah. Yes. Well this takes priority at the moment. I need to bring you up to speed with the situation.’
‘Okay,’ Lily said slowly. But he wasn’t getting away with it, she would have her say, she would get to the bottom of who he was and what the hell he thought he was doing. She had a list and she wouldn’t be diverted from it.
‘Oliver Banstead has now left Bensons Wholesale Electrical. He resigned today and his resignation is with immediate effect.’
‘Oh.’ Lily pondered for a moment. ‘Good.’
‘I’ve spoken to many of his victims, past and present, and many of them would have been very happy to speak to the police if it had come to that. Fortunately Oliver has decided to take the honourable way out.’ Jackson-slash-Cyril’s eyes met briefly with Lily’s before he turned to Heather.
‘The official line,’ Heather added, taking her cue. ‘Is that he’s decided to take early retirement due to ill health. There will be gossip, of course, but we know that you won’t be spreading it.’ Heather arched her eyebrows at Lily.
‘What? So he’s getting away with it? That’s not right. That’s not fair.’
‘Well, that’s what has been decided and agreed.’ Jackson sighed. ‘Sorry you won’t get your pound of flesh.’
‘This isn’t about me getting revenge, this is about justice. He’s a dirty old letch. He’ll just go somewhere else and do it again.’
Jackson stood up, he had rolled his sleeves up again and Lily saw the mermaid’s tail flicking from beneath his watch; it made her heart clench. ‘You’re probably correct, but that will be their problem.’
‘Well that’s not good enough. I think…’
‘Sorry, it’s not for discussion,’ Jackson cut across her. ‘That’s how it is.’
‘I don’t agree with it.’
Jackson let out a long drawn out sigh. ‘I think that this subject is at an end now. Heather, if you wouldn’t mind leaving us, I have some finance matters I need to discuss with Lily.’ He smiled as Heather, who, looking relieved to be escaping the stuffy room, gathered up her papers and left in haste.
Was this when he told her she didn’t have a job?
Was this when he told her that Damon was the winner?
Was this when she told him to stop playing around and tell her who the hell he really was? She glanced at her notepad. Would she write the answers down?
‘I’m sorry about this whole business, Lily,’ Jackson began. ‘But we had a Mexican standoff situation.’
‘A what?’
‘We couldn’t win, we couldn’t take, ahem, Oily Bastard to court,’ he allowed a smile to play across his face.
‘Why not?’
‘In fact,’ Jackson continued, ignoring her question. ‘If it hadn’t been for you and your counter-complaint, we would have been up shit creek without a paddle. You’ve saved Bensons from financial ruin.’
‘Have I? How?’ What the hell was he talking about?
‘No doubt Damon has shared his report with you. You know about the unofficial bank accounts, the irregularities in Bensons accounting.’
Lily hesitated while Jackson waited for an answer.
‘Yes.’ Was she getting Damon into trouble by admitting it?
‘It appears that my predecessor, Malcolm Block, and our Oily Bastard were effectively running a shadow company alongside Bensons, diverting funds into other bank accounts and, of course, paying themselves handsomely into the bargain. They pulled the wool over old Mr Benson’s eyes – not difficult as it turns out – and got away with it for years. It only started to unravel when my predecessor left. Or maybe it was starting to unravel and that was why he left.’
Lily slumped in her seat, swallowing hard before speaking, her voice a sad whisper. ‘I didn’t know anything about it. I feel such a fool. So must Damon. How could we not have spotted it?’
‘Don’t blame yourselves, no evidence came your way, the money was creamed off long before it got that far.’
‘Can’t they be prosecuted? It’s theft. They should be made examples of. Everyone here thinks the company is going under, especially after…’ Lily’s voice trailed away.
‘After what?’ Jackson looked alarmed.
‘After your wife toured the building and put the fear of God into everyone.’ She watched for a reaction on his face, but there was none; for him this was strictly business.
Jackson shook his head. ‘Is that all? Is that the only reason?’
Lily nodded slowly. ‘I think so. Although now people mutter about financial irregularities but I don’t think they did before her visit.’
‘No one needs to worry about her.’
Of course not, thought Lily. ‘But you could prosecute Oily Bastard on both counts – sexual harassment and embezzlement.’
‘Much as he and Block deserve it, that’s the last thing we want to do. We need Bensons to appear stable and profitable, otherwise it will go under – rumours have killed many a good business. If we go public with this, it will ruin us. We have to front it out, present a confident face to our customers and our suppliers. Banstead was going to go public with the financial fraud if we pursued the sexual harassment.’
‘But he was in the wrong on both counts. He’d be putting himself in the firing line.’
‘Yes, it’s a game of cat and mouse. As I said, we had a stand off. Interestingly, the evidence suggests that he was a pawn in the game, although according to Block, Banstead was a major player.’ Jackson sighed. ‘I spent a hurried weekend in Spain – Block has a beautiful villa overlooking the Med, no doubt funded illegally – trying to get to the bottom of it. Inevitably they each blame the other and each accuses the other of being the mastermind. But it makes no difference; we have to keep this quiet. Your accusation against Banstead gave us a bit of leverage to silence him; even he doesn’t want to be prosecuted for sexua
l harassment. Bensons owes you.’
‘It’s wrong, morally wrong.’
‘I agree. Shamefully we’ve even had to provide a decent reference for him and a payoff. As I’ve said, it’s a standoff. We’re buying his silence. And yes, he might go somewhere else and behave like that again, but let’s hope that another company has better morals and better checks and balances than this one had.’
‘Had? What do you mean?’
‘Let’s just say that old Mr Benson is no longer running the company – in any capacity. I don’t want this repeated, but there is a suspicion that he probably isn’t up to it any longer. He probably hasn’t been for a long time. Banstead and Block had no problems pulling the wool over his eyes. We’ll need to appoint a new MD in due course, but we need to keep that quiet too until we’re ready.’
‘Poor Mr Benson.’
‘Poor Bensons Wholesale Electricals. But the future is brighter now.’ Jackson ran his hand through his hair, what little there was of it.
‘But we’ve just lost our best salesman, however despicable he was.’ Lily felt despondent; suddenly her own problems seemed less important against the survival of a company that provided so many jobs, so many livelihoods.
‘Another myth,’ Jackson said. ‘He might have been the best officially, that is in the official Benson accounts, but the best salesmen’s orders were going through the bogus company. How’s that for irony?’
Lily shook her head. It sounded horrendous. ‘I feel such a fool,’ she said. ‘I’ve been here for years and never suspected; you’ve been here five minutes….’
‘Stop.’ Jackson said, holding up his hand. ‘We’ve had top accountants on Bensons’ books for months before we took it over, that’s how we knew something wasn’t right. Then there’s Veronica; she’s insistent she knew nothing about it, yet she worked very closely with them both.’
‘Surely you don’t think she’s involved. I know she can be an old battleaxe but she wouldn’t do anything illegal.’ Lily couldn’t quite believe she was defending Scare-a-von, especially when all she really wanted to ask was who the ‘we’ were that had taken Bensons over. ‘She’s been here so long, she’s like a piece of the furniture and she rules the roost.’