I got theatre work. It didn’t pay much, but I got to be other people for months on end. It suited me. I never formed a relationship with another male. In fact, my feelings for Dave surprised me. It took leaving him for me to realise how important he was to me. I really did love him. However, I couldn’t explore that while I was still so consumed by hatred. I tell Dave to move on, but not to tell me if he meets someone else. It would hurt too much. But my love for him is not strong enough to take me home. I hate, more than I love.
It’s 2013 when I finally decide it’s time to go home. To finish what I started so I can live the rest of my life.
I don’t tell Dave I’m home. But Bobby is there when I need him. He stays in my apartment when required. He’s a good friend, but the offer of money makes him a better one.
Now another person is dead because of Edward Bonham, and I’ve had enough. He needs to be held accountable for his actions.
There’s no sign of Melissa Simmons, nee Jones. I’m Sam Briers now – Edward Bonham’s right-hand lady. I’ve to move on from what happened to Mr Jacobs. Regroup, and figure my next steps.
It’s ridiculously easy to purchase fake documents. Bobby saw to all of that for me. My CV and references are perfect for the personal assistant role. What I didn’t expect was silence from Ed. Other than asking me to work, he barely addressed me at all. From my time working in the tattoo parlour to my time in theatre, I’d experienced nothing but noise. Bobby would always have music thrashing through speakers while customers chatted and equipment whirred. For the theatre, I’d learn my lines in peace, but practice and productions were always frantic.
I’d speak to Kerry in the staff room, but Ed didn’t like idle office chatter. He’d give me plenty of work as if challenging me to not to be able to complete it. I did. Even if it meant staying late, that work was always done. We became a productive team despite the lack of friendly communication between us. I learnt all about his customers, and his business. Unfortunately, there were no skeletons. I’d quizzed Kerry, but any rumours about Ed seemed to be just that, rumours – no doubt made up by staff who couldn’t get a real story on him.
As the year went on, I began to see no reason to keep working for him. I’d uncovered nothing in terms of exacting revenge. Then one day he went out to the bathroom, leaving his suit jacket on the back of his chair. As quickly as I could, I ransacked his pockets, looking for anything I could use. There was a thin, black address book. I flicked through it, my heart beating fast in my chest, my hands wavering. If he caught me, I was fucked. There was nothing of interest in the pages but in a pocket at the back was a photo of Ed in a Scout uniform. I noted the scout group then shoved his address book back in his pocket and dashed back to my desk.
When Ed walked back, he appraised me. ‘Your face is very flushed, Miss Briers. What have you been doing while I was gone?’
‘I’m, well, I’m handing in my notice, Ed.’
He stops moving. ‘Sorry? Is there a problem?’
‘No. I feel it’s time for me to move on. Obviously, I’ll work a month’s notice, but this job isn’t for me.’
‘You’re extremely efficient. You’ve been a real asset,’ he says, a frown appearing on his brow. ‘I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you. I know I can seem cold at times.’
‘No. It’s the job. It’s too quiet. I can’t sit there every day with lots of work but no one to talk to. It’s not me. You need an assistant like yourself.’
‘Well, what sort of thing did you want to do?’
‘Normal assistants would arrange meetings for you. Take messages from your wife. That sort of thing. You handle all your own phone calls, and well, I’m bored.’
‘But you have plenty of work.’
‘Paperwork yes, but nothing else. I’m going crazy. I live alone and basically work alone. I need more excitement in my day.’
Ed scratched his chin. ‘So, if I give over more responsibility to you. Let you take the phone calls, arrange my diary, etc., you’ll stay?’
‘I’d give it a try.’
‘Fine. Stay, and we’ll try working your way. This isn’t going to be easy for me. I abhor change, and I don’t like to not be in control. You’d better not mess up.’
‘I won’t. Thank you.’
The first time I speak to his wife on the phone, a tingle shoots up my spine. At last, a way in.
‘Hello. Is that Ed’s Assistant?’
‘It is.’
‘Hi, I’m his wife, Inez.’ It’s said in a friendly voice but with an underlying tone of suspicion. I suppose I’d be suspicious if instead of getting through to my husband I suddenly got his assistant. I’m being viewed as a threat, and I love it.
‘Good Morning, Mrs Bonham,’ I reply, making her sound her middle-age. ‘Ed’s out at a meeting. Can I take a message for you?’
‘That’s very kind, but I’ll try his mobile.’
‘Okay then. Well, it was very nice to speak to you, Mrs Bonham.’
‘Please, call me Inez.’
‘Okay, well I’m Sam. Sam Briers.’
‘I know. Good day, Sam, I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.’
The phone call ends.
Later in the month, there’s a boring annual business meeting followed by a business dinner. Wives are invited, and the thought of seeing Inez while I’m in my new body makes me sweat. All staff members are expected to attend, but I didn’t want to meet her under these circumstances. I needn’t have worried. Ed informs me that he keeps his wife and personal life entirely separate from his business affairs.
I sit beside him at the meal. I wear a corporate black trouser suit with a grey silk blouse. Edward asks about everyone else’s families while giving cursory replies about his own.
‘Do you know I’ve only ever seen photos of his wife?’ Jack Simpson bellows, slightly inebriated. ‘Never met her. I don’t think she exists. Either that or he’s nipped to Thailand and bought one. Sure she ain’t a ladyboy, Ed?’
Only I notice the clench of his jaw.
‘I’ve met her,’ I say. Ed looks at me, believing that I’m lying. ‘And spoken to her many times on the phone. She seems lovely.’
‘Oh, right,’ Jack says subdued. I notice his wife has a tight pinch to her mouth and is obviously embarrassed about her husband’s behaviour.
The rest of the meal passes quietly. At the end of the evening, corporate photographs are taken to be displayed on the office walls.
When Jack returns to work on Monday morning, he has a black eye and a split lip. He gives the story of having been mugged while leaving the party. His inebriation making him a target, while his wife waited in the car.
But I watch Ed stretch his hand out several times that day as if his knuckles are sore. Though there’s no evidence of bruising, his skin tone masks any darkened areas.
It’s become my aim to cause as much trouble between Ed and his wife as I can. I begin by sending a copy of the corporate photo through the post. In it, I’m standing at the side of Ed smiling at him. Inez can see that her husband’s assistant is a slim blonde.
The calls to the office to check on her husband’s whereabouts increase.
I make my tone friendly when she calls.
‘Hi, Inez. No, he’s not here. Gone to yet another meeting. I don’t know what they find to talk about. Hardly ever see him these days.’
I hear the panic in her voice, a slight tremble to the tone. ‘Can you get him to call me when he’s back? He’s not answering his mobile.’
‘I will do.’
He’s not answering his mobile because I knocked it onto silent earlier when it was on my desk. She can ring and ring, and he’ll not know until he checks it.
Another time I put the answerphone on to say we’re both at lunch. We are, separately, but Inez leaves a further message for her husband to ring her.
I know something’s amiss when Ed’s daily meditation runs over and I’m still waiting outside his office door at eight forty-five am.
His face is drawn. He doesn’t look like he’s slept well. He has a couple of creases in his jacket and a scratch on his left cheek.
He watches me appraise him, but says nothing.
‘I’m sorry, Sam,’ he tells me. ‘But I’m going to have to ask you be transferred. It’s my wife. She’s very possessive, and well, she believes there’s something going on between us.’
‘But that’s stupid. Do you want me to talk to her?’
He shakes his head. ‘No. My wife has some issues. I don’t wish to discuss them, but there’s a reason she’s like she is. I can write you a marvellous reference anytime, Sam, but from tomorrow you’ll be working for one of the other accountants.’
‘No. I quit, and I’m going off sick so as not to work any notice.’
‘Why leave secure employment?’
‘I’ve another job lined up. I was going to tell you.’
I can see he doesn’t believe me. I can also see he doesn’t care one way or another. His mind is on his wife.
Finally, I got through the mask and found his weakness.
Her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SAM/SELMA
June 2014
I can now focus completely on Inez Bonham.
I visit a top hairdresser’s in London and have cherry red hair extensions. Filler gives me a plumper mouth. My eyebrows are darkened and my eyelashes tinted. I change my contacts to a pale grey and wear a lot of makeup and boho style clothing. I’m now Selma.
Bobby delights in the fact that I finally want a tattoo of my own. He tattoos a dreamcatcher on my upper left arm. I fully intend to catch Inez Bonham’s dreams and turn them into nightmares.
Every single morning Inez walks her dog, a pathetic looking chihuahua, to a cafe where she stays for a drink. On this particular morning, Bobby rushes towards her, pinches the dog, and dashes off. Inez screams, her surrogate child stolen. I use my gym-honed body, dressed in a bright floral loose tee and tight pale blue jogging pants, and tear after the “thief”. I snatch the dog back, and Bobby runs away as planned.
I jog back to her and return her dog. ‘Here. You okay?’
Inez weeps. She’s taller than me, and tall for a woman at six feet to my five foot five. She’s always walked hunched over, afraid to own her height. Her long brown hair reminds me of my own when I was Melissa. Her passing resemblance to me makes me so angry I have to clench my hands behind my back, else I may attempt to rip her hair away and scratch at her face. I focus on my breathing. Calm down, talk to her.
My accent is now Geordie. I adore playing these new roles. I was always supporting cast in the plays, now I’m centre stage.
‘I… Oh, my God. He stole Bounty. She’s my baby. Shit. Should I call the police?’ she asks.
‘There’s no point. He was obviously an opportunist and is long gone. Waste of time. Listen, there’s a nice cafe near here that takes dogs. Can I buy you a hot drink? I’d like to make sure you’re okay before I leave you.’
She clutches my arm in a strong grip. ‘Thank you so much for rescuing her. Yes, I think I will have a nice cup of tea with some sugar for the shock.’
‘Let's head to Cafe Coco then. It’s this way.’ I indicate up the street.
‘Oh, I know, I go there every day. That’s where I was heading to. I don’t think I’ve seen you there before?’
I smile. ‘I only moved to this area last week. First thing I did was find a great place to have coffee. It's a priority you know? I can’t survive without it.’
‘I know what you mean. Coco’s has become part of my daily routine. My husband works long hours, and I get a little bored.’
‘Mine too.’ I twist the wedding band on my left hand. ‘He’s a self-employed writer. We travel a lot as it depends on where he sets his next novel. For some reason, he chose Rotherleigh for his latest, so here we are.’
‘Wow, that sounds so exciting,’ she says.
We reach the doorway of the cafe, step inside, and take a seat. She sits Bounty in a basket on one of the chairs, and it stays there, its face vacant. I can’t understand the fascination for these toy dogs. They look like they could break apart should you blow on them.
‘So why the name Bounty?’ I ask. Though the answer is pathetic and obvious.
‘Because my little sweetie girl is brown with a white belly. She made me think of the chocolate bar.’ She tickles the dog's belly. It still does nothing.
‘Do you dress her up? I know a lot of small breed owners do that?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she tells me, her shock wearing off as she becomes enthused. ‘She has little jumpers, pyjamas, the lot. Basically, she’s like my baby substitute.’ Her face falls.
‘I can’t have children,’ I confide.
‘You can’t? I’m so sorry. Neither can I, and we’ve tried to adopt, but that hasn’t happened either. So, Bounty is my baby.’ She looks at me. ‘I sound pathetic, don’t I?’
‘No, you don’t. You’ve done more than I have. To be honest, I block out the fact I can’t have children.’ I smile and take a deep breath. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you all this when we’ve only just met. I’m usually so private.’
‘Me too,’ Inez agrees. ‘My husband is an extremely private man and likes me to be the same. He’s always preferred it to be just me and him, and well, it can be difficult to make friends, you know?’
‘I do. Well, all you needed was to get your dog almost kidnapped, and now you have one. If you want one that is? Maybe we could just meet here occasionally for a hot drink?’
‘That would be lovely,’ Inez says. ‘Some female adult conversation. I’m here almost every morning. Same time, ten until around eleven. Any time you want to come along, feel free.’
‘You might regret that invitation when I turn up every day because I’m bored.’
‘No I won’t,’ Inez says. ‘You’re the first genuine person I’ve met in a long time. I could use a friend and, well, I’m sorry about your child situation, but it’s nice to have someone who understands if you see what I mean.’
‘I do. So, what will your husband say about you having a new friend?’
Inez chews on her lip. ‘I’m not going to tell him. He’d want to meet you, and he can be rather aloof. He might scare you away. I’m going to keep you all for myself.’
‘Fine by me. I’ll not tell my husband either. We’ll be secret best friends forever.’
Inez giggles. She looks so fucking ugly when she does so.
I take a sip of my latte. I can’t stand milk, but Selma drinks it.
‘Oh, my God, I haven’t even asked your name, and I’m saying we need to be BFFs.’ I put a hand over my mouth.
‘I’m Inez,’ she says.
‘Selma.’ I hold out my hand, and she shakes it. Her hand in mine makes me want to heave. ‘Inez is a beautiful name. Very unusual for around here I would think.’
‘Yes. My name was given to me with love. I adore it.’ She smiles. I want to stick the end of my spoon in her eyeball. ‘Selma is unusual too.’
‘My mother always was a bit dramatic. She wanted to call me Thelma after the film Thelma and Louise, but my father ruled it out, so Selma it was,’ I lie. I don’t know how I make this shit up. I hope she doesn’t check the film release date as I’ve no fucking idea if the timeline matches up with my story. I berate myself for being careless.
I finish up my drink. ‘Well, I’d better go and get my housework done. That’s the deal for me being a stay at home housewife. I keep the place clean. And believe me, when my other half’s writing it’s needed. He loads up on mugs and dirty plates. I don’t see him for days. He’s like a hermit. In fact, I end up smelling him before I see him.’ I laugh.
‘Mine works long hours. I get really bored on my own, but he leaves me a list of things to do while he’s out.’
‘Sounds very bossy.’
‘He likes order and routine. Mess displeases him. He’s a bel
iever that a woman’s place is in the home.’
I guffaw. ‘Oh, my God. I couldn’t live with someone like that. I’d rebel.’
Inez’s face falls.
‘Gosh, I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.’
‘No, it’s okay. I like his order. It makes me feel safe.’
‘Why would you not feel safe?’ I put a look of mock concern on my face.
‘Oh. Forget that. Daft turn of phrase. I can get a little agoraphobic. Hide away. That’s why I have the dog and go out for coffee every morning. I’d be tempted to never go out otherwise.’
I stand up and lean over Inez and give her a hug. Then I tickle the zombie dog’s ears.
‘Well, I’ll probably see you in the morning. If you’re sure that’s okay with you?’
She smiles. ‘I’m already looking forward to it.’
I walk out of the cafe and walk back to my apartment. When I’m safely inside, I rush to the bathroom where I vomit up the drink I had. My body shakes with pent up emotion. I lie on my bed and let the thoughts of the morning swirl around my mind. When I feel calmer, I take out my journal and write down our entire conversation and my observations. I don’t want to forget anything that I can use in the future.
Then I drink some water and eat an apple before firing up the computer to plan my next move.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MInE: A Hate Story Page 5