She seduced him in a way he didn’t know existed. They had sex on the sitting-room floor and when it was over, Clara glanced at the sweating whale in front of her. He was leaning back against the sofa, his tiny penis flapping against his thigh. Clara looked away and offered to call him a cab. He nodded – too amazed at his good fortune to speak.
He thanked her as a gentleman would, and Clara smiled, as a good salesperson would do. The only thought in her head was that she wasn’t an SFH salesperson, she was a sex salesperson. She took another line of cocaine and then another. Then she saw the truth. She had had sex with a client. One of Tim’s biggest, clients. She was enveloped in a cloud of disgust. She couldn’t believe she’d done it. She calmed herself down by reminding herself that she was a sex addict: she couldn’t help herself. She had an illness. She hadn’t been rational. She was in deep shit.
Wrapping herself in her crisp linen duvet, she took a couple of sleeping pills and forgot to set her alarm.
She woke at midday. The answer phone was beeping. She hadn’t heard any telephone calls, but she never did when she took sleeping pills. The only voice on the answer phone was Tim’s. He was barking that she had better call him straight away at the office. She burst into tears as she heard the anger in his voice.
***
Tim was fuming. “How dare she do that to me?” he said to himself. He had gone to work after spending a stressful night at the hospital. Jemima had had her appendix removed then demanded that he stay with her. His wife was hysterical and his elder daughter was sulking because she wasn’t the centre of attention. No one would listen to him and he began to hate women. In the morning he excused himself, saying he had important meetings at work. In reality, he needed to get away from his family.
At the office he found some peace until his client, Stephen Lock, the fat, respectable married man, had called him to thank him for the “great piece of arse” he had sent. Then he had been unable to stop himself telling Tim how much of the arse he had seen. And the breasts, and the other bits. Clara had betrayed him. She had slept with another man. Tim wanted to kill her.
As soon as he had an explanation, he would decide what to do. He told himself that Clara might not have slept with Stephen. Stephen might have lied. He had probably tried it on and she rejected him. Tim hoped that this was so. Unable to bear it any longer, he told his secretary he had a last-minute appointment and took a cab over to Clara’s flat.
Clara opened the door wearing her towelling dressing-gown. Tim barely looked at her.
“Hi,” she said.
“Clara, did you sleep with Stephen?” His fists were clenched.
“Yes,” she said.
“No. The answer was supposed to be no. Clara, you are a fucking little whore. You slept with one of our most important clients. You said you only slept with me.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, Clara, how could you do that to me?” Tim had never before felt this angry.
“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
“Nothing just happens. You make it happen. You bitch, I should beat the shit out of you.” Tim’s face was contorted with rage.
Clara hoped he wasn’t going to hit her. He looked as if he might.
After a few minutes silence, he grabbed her roughly by her bathrobe and pulled her to him. She screamed and he put one hand over her mouth. He undid his trousers with the other, trapping Clara with his legs. She tried to push him away but she had no strength. He took his hand away from her mouth, undid her bathrobe, pushed her to the floor and climbed on top of her.
“Don’t you ever have sex with anyone but me!” he spat, as he entered her.
Clara cried out in pain. “Shut the fuck up. You behave like a whore, I’ll treat you like one,” he said, and thrust into her even harder.
Clara’s head was spinning. She had lost control of her body. She could feel Tim prodding at her, and it hurt, but she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t lift her arms to push him off. She saw that he had pinned them down, but she couldn’t feel it. By the time he’d finished she couldn’t feel anything.
Tim’s face was red and contorted as he climbed off her. Clara stayed still. She tried to work out what she could do or say, what she should do or say. He’d raped her, but maybe he’d had a right to. She was a whore. A worthless whore who gave her body to anyone who wanted it. This was her fault; this was what she deserved.
“I’m sorry,” Clara said, still lying on the floor.
“You’d better be,” Tim said, as he stood over her.
“I’ll come to work,” Clara started crying.
“Don’t fucking cry. I don’t want you at work. Don’t even think about work. You stay there with your legs open waiting for your next fuck. You’re not fit to work.” Clara knew this was true. She was in no state to move, let alone work.
“I’ll be there on Monday. It’s my job, Tim. I need to come in on Monday.” Clara was pleading.
“Fine. Do that. In the meantime, I want you to know I’m very angry, disappointed and upset. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m going to do something.” Tim stormed out, leaving her lying on the floor in a puddle of tears.
His first thought after he had calmed down was how he could turn this to his advantage. He could offer to forgive her if she agreed to his terms. His terms would be that she would resign from her job, he would leave his wife and move in with her. The sex he had just had with her had proved that she would let him do what he wanted. She would let him have her whenever he chose. He wanted that; he wanted her all the time. Although he was eaten up with jealousy at her sleeping with Stephen, he could use it to own her. He wanted to own her. Tim believed that this was love.
***
Clara spent the rest of the day crying. She needed to talk to someone, but she didn’t have anyone. Her brother would be disappointed in her, and he was the one person in her life who had any faith in her. She couldn’t risk losing him. Her parents would probably drag her home, lock her up and make her marry the first man they could persuade to take her off their hands. She had no friends. Clarissa would probably have a heart-attack if she knew what Clara had done. No one would understand, no one would forgive her. How could they when she couldn’t forgive herself? Tim’s violation was something she pushed to the back of her mind as she got up and went to get her cocaine.
Clara felt disgusted with herself. But it wasn’t her fault that she was addicted to sex. How could a person say no when they were addicted? She tried to figure out when she had first needed sex this much, but she couldn’t remember. If she was being honest with herself she would have realised that it was probably at the same time she had started taking cocaine, but to Clara, cocaine was her one and only friend. She couldn’t betray it.
How did I end up like this? Clara thought, as she lay on her cream sofa and stared at her cream walls. Her immaculate flat represented her life. It felt empty right now.
***
That afternoon Tim made a decision. His wife called him constantly with updates from the hospital. Jemima cried, Jemima wanted ice-cream, Jemima wanted comics. It went on endlessly. Tim pointed out that it was a simple operation that many people had, but to his family it was a Greek tragedy. And Tim felt tragic. He sat in his office not really working, thinking about the Clara problem.
Clara was young, sexy, keen and open-minded. She doted on him. He knew that although she had slept with Stephen he would forgive her. He had to forgive her. The alternative to forgiving her would be to lose her. He couldn’t lose her.
By the end of the day, Tim picked up his briefcase and knew exactly what he was going to do. He would tell his wife that on Saturday he was going to play golf with an important client. Instead he would go to see Clara. He would tell her that she had to resign and he would leave his wife and move in. They would buy a new house – he didn’t like her flat – after the divorce had been finalised. He would marry her as soon as he was divorced and they would live happily ever after. Tim would h
ave what he wanted: Clara in his bed.
***
Clara had to pull herself together. She had slept so much lately, cried so much and been totally unlike herself. She needed to get a grip on her life. She was seeing James on Sunday for lunch and by then she would be so together that everything would be fine. She would start next week with a new outlook and a new life. She would finish the affair with Tim and throw herself into work. The new Clara. This Clara would not be called a whore; she wouldn’t let Tim force himself on her ever again. No man would be allowed near her unless she wanted it. She needed to take control.
She started planning how to get rid of Tim, but before she had made any decisions, he called her and told her that he was on his way. She got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She pulled her hair back. She looked positively ordinary.
When Tim arrived, she was prepared. He entered the house, moved straight into the lounge and sat down. She stayed silent.
“I need to talk to you,” Tim said. He wasn’t shouting as he had been the day before.
“Fine.” Clara felt her resolve falter, but she knew that after he said what he had come to say she would tell him it was over. She hoped he wouldn’t do to her what he had done yesterday. For the first time, Clara felt afraid of Tim.
“I’m leaving my wife for you. I realise that you only slept with Stephen so you could get my full attention and now I’m going to give it to you. But first you have to resign from SFH.”
Clara nearly threw up. Her heart started beating faster and faster and she felt as if her insides would explode. This was not what she had wanted or expected. “Tim, I can’t resign. I love my job.” Her job was the only thing she could cling to. It was all she had.
“Clara, we all know why you got that job. It was because you gave great head. I gave it to you in exchange for what you gave me. Now I’m offering you the position of being with me full time. A highly coveted position. You can leave your job for me, just like how you got it because of me.”
Clara felt her heart slow down. She was angry. He had never said that before. He had never said why he had promoted her. She could not leave her job and she didn’t want him.
“Tim, I think it’s time to call it a day. You have a wife and kids and they need you. I’m young and I have a career. I don’t want us to break up, but I don’t want this. This is too much. I don’t want to become your next wife.”
Tim stood up and started pacing the room. “You don’t mean that. You need me.”
“No. I need my job. I don’t want this anymore.” Clara felt very tired.
“So, what are you saying? You don’t want me to leave my wife. You won’t give up the job?” Tim looked almost panicked.
“That’s what I’m saying. Please understand.”
“No, I fucking won’t understand. I’m not letting you do this. You will resign and you will become my full-time girl.”
“I won’t.” Clara couldn’t take this anymore. She needed out.
“Right. I’m not sure I understand. You love me.” Tim sounded almost like a small boy.
“I don’t love you. We have fun. That’s what affairs are for, not for leaving your wife for or making me leave my job. Tim, I really love my job and I want to be successful. Please, you can’t take that away from me.”
“Actually I can. Remember that. What I gave I can take away. I will see you in the office on Monday. You can give me your decision then, but I expect you to come round to my way of thinking. Remember what I’ve said.” Without glancing at her again, Tim walked out.
Clara looked at her wooden clock. She stared at it and watched the hands move. She moved with them, but she stayed still. It wasn’t long before she was crying again.
She knew that Tim couldn’t sack her without good reason. He couldn’t take her job away from her.
She couldn’t remember the rest of Saturday. She needed coke to calm herself down. She went to the shop and bought vodka and cigarettes and she ordered a pizza. She couldn’t remember in which order they came; she just remembered the objects. She ate somehow, she drank and she had more cocaine. She awoke on Sunday morning on the sofa. The panic was still there as she put on her brightest smile and prepared to meet her brother.
PART THREE
BLACK THURSDAY
Chapter Twelve
After another encounter with Jim, her personal trainer, Ella went to work on Monday. It was as painful as all the others had been, except it was her last. She had spoken to Jackie at length about Johnny, her job and her life, and Jackie had advised her to loosen up a little. If she wanted to make management, she would have to deal with people like him, and she would have to make him show her some respect. She also realised that she could get rid of Jim without feeling it meant that she didn’t fit in. The facade had been in place for too long; it was time to start letting go. That morning she told him she would no longer be training and she was amazed at how good that felt.
Now she had the support of her team she felt she could relent a little; she deserved that. She even smiled at Johnny when he arrived at the desk and almost fainted when he smiled back.
***
Johnny smiled at Ella, safe in the knowledge that she was about to fall from a great height. He had made an appointment with Jeff and he had his story worked out.
“Johnny. What can I do for you?” Jeff wasn’t welcoming: he was expecting a new list of complaints. Every time Johnny had ventured into his office, it was to complain about something. Jeff was tired of him. He was also loyal to his team and, so far, he had no time for the new boy. He had already decided that he would make a point at the meeting on Thursday, and he hoped he would be able to persuade the others to back him in his quest to move Johnny to another department.
“Well, it’s a bit awkward, really.” Johnny was playing coy.
“Fine, well, why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s Ella.” Jeff had been expecting another complaint about Ella.
“What about her? She’s a highly respected member of our team. One of the best traders we’ve ever had.” Jeff was firm.
“That’s why this is awkward. You see, my father is a friend of one of the dean’s at Durham University and he was visiting this weekend. I happened to mention that Ella was my mentor and I asked him if he knew her. As she’s obviously a smart girl, I thought he would remember her.”
“Where’s this going, Johnny? I’m quite busy today.” Jeff looked at the man standing in front of him and felt nothing but contempt.
“He’d never heard of her, and, well, he knows all the students. It’s part of his job.” Jeff looked at Johnny uninterestedly.
“No one knows every student at a university. I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”
“No, what I meant to say – gosh, this is embarrassing – is that he heads up the humanities department and Ella mentioned she did history at Durham and, well, she definitely didn’t. My father’s friend would have known her if she had.” Johnny was red-faced. This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.
“Johnny, you know what you’re saying, don’t you? And I cannot take your word for this just because someone doesn’t remember her. I’ll get it checked out and I’m sure there’s no cause for concern. I would also rather you didn’t mention this to anyone else. I’ll speak to you later when I’ve investigated.”
Johnny felt relieved. He had wanted this to happen. Now Jeff would have to get someone to make the same call Claudia had. Then they would discover that Ella was a fraud. In addition, Jeff would never find out that Johnny had gained the information on purpose. He would think it was just a coincidence. Johnny was angry with himself for not sounding more convincing, but as he left the office, he knew he’d won.
Jeff thought about ignoring the whole thing. He was not a fool and he knew that Johnny’s accusations had to be a misunderstanding. Of course Ella went to Durham – she had a degree certificate from there. But he had to get everything checked out. If h
e didn’t, Johnny would make waves in the office. He couldn’t afford for this to get out – he couldn’t believe it was true. Ella was his best trader, the best the desk had. She was a natural, always making money, showing wonderful judgement. Jeff didn’t want to lose her. He knew, too, that Johnny had not been lying. He had probably asked some eighty-year-old professor about Ella and he hadn’t remembered her. University people were renowned for being old and out of touch with reality. Jeff asked himself why he was making excuses; all he had to do was get it checked out. He would take delight in proving Johnny wrong. Although he still didn’t believe that the accusation was true, he called Helena in Human Resources and asked her to look into it.
***
Virginia found work even harder than usual. She was counting the minutes until Thursday, and she was sinking under the amount of work she had. Isabelle was being nicer to her than usual, but that was the only good thing. She could hardly bear to breathe: she was so excited that her dreams might come true at last. On a number of occasions she found her concentration wavering, but that was only to be expected. She had a big decision to await. She had to try to remain calm.
Isabelle had decided to be nice to the rat. Make her think she could get away with going behind her back and trying to get another job. Well, soon she would find out that you don’t cross Isabelle Holland. Especially if you were a stupid secretary. Especially if you were her stupid secretary. On Thursday David would make the rest of the board see that Virginia was a threat to the company and they would welcome her dismissal. They wouldn’t, however, welcome it quite as much as Isabelle Holland would.
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