Now I’m hastily decanting some of my own shoes into Fabia’s shoe cupboard, because they’re bound to ask me about my accessories. I’m just counting how many pairs of Jimmy Choos there are, when the doorbell suddenly rings, and I jump in a flurry of panic. I shove the rest of the shoes into the cupboard, check my reflection, and head down the stairs with trembling legs.
This is it! All my life I’ve wanted to itemize my clothes in a magazine!
As I reach the hall I do a quick recap in my head. Dress: Diane von Furstenburg. Shoes: Prada. Tights: Topshop. Earrings: present from Mum.
No, that’s not cool enough. I’ll call them…model’s own. No, vintage. I’ll say I found them sewn into a 1930s corset which I bought from an old atelier in a backstreet in Paris. Perfect.
I swing open the front door, plastering a bright smile on my face — and freeze.
It’s not Vogue. It’s Luke.
He’s wearing an overcoat and holding an overnight case and it looks like he didn’t shave this morning.
“What the hell is this?” he says with no preamble, lifting up my letter.
I stare back at him, dumbstruck. This isn’t right. He’s supposed to be at the Oxo Tower looking all romantic and loving. Not here on the doorstep, disheveled and moody.
“I…” I swallow. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he echoes incredulously. “I’m reacting to this! You didn’t answer any of my calls, I had no bloody idea what was going on…. ‘Meet me at the top of the Oxo Tower.’” He shakes the letter at me. “What is all this crap?”
Crap?
“It’s not crap!” I cry, stung. “I was trying to save our marriage, in case you hadn’t realized—”
“Save our marriage?” He stares at me. “At the Oxo Tower?”
“It works in films! You were supposed to turn up, and it was all supposed to be lovely, like in Sleepless in Seattle.…”
My voice is thickening with disappointment. I so thought it was going to work. I so thought he was going to be there, and we’d run into each other’s arms, and be a happy family again.
“OK, I’m obviously missing something.” Luke is frowning down at the letter again. “This letter doesn’t even make sense. ‘I know you had an——’ Blank. What did I have? An embolism?”
He’s mocking me. I can’t bear it.
“An affair!” I yell. “An affair! Your affair with Venetia! I know about it, remember? And I just thought maybe you wanted to give our marriage another shot, but obviously not, so please just go. I have a Vogue shoot to do.” I brush angrily at my tear-filled eyes.
“My what?” He seems genuinely shell-shocked. “Becky, you’re joking.”
“Yeah, right.” I make to close the door, but he grabs my wrist hard.
“Stop.” Luke’s voice is like thunder. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I get this letter out of the blue…you’re accusing me of having an affair…. You can’t run away without explaining.”
Has he moved in to a parallel universe? Did someone hit him over the head or something?
“You admitted it yourself, Luke!” I practically shriek in frustration. “You said you’d been trying to ‘protect’ me, because of my blood pressure or whatever. Remember that?”
Luke’s eyes are scanning my face, back and forth, as though searching for answers.
“The conversation we had in the hospital,” he says suddenly. “Before I left.”
“Yes! Does it all come flooding back now?” I can’t help sounding sarcastic. “You were planning to tell me after the baby. You were going to see how things ‘played out.’ You basically admitted it—”
“I wasn’t talking about having a fucking affair!” Luke explodes. “I was talking about the crisis situation with Arcodas!”
“I…” The wind is instantly taken out of my sails. “Wh-what?”
I suddenly notice two children standing on the pavement, staring at us. I guess we do look quite conspicuous, what with my huge bump and everything.
“Let’s adjourn inside,” I say in dignified tones. Luke follows my gaze.
“Right. Yes. Let’s…do that.”
He steps into the house and I close the door. For a moment there’s silence in the hall. I don’t know what to say. I feel totally thrown.
“Becky…I don’t know what wrong end of what stick you’ve got hold of.” Luke exhales long and hard. “There’s been some trouble at work and I’ve been trying to shield you from it. But I’m not having an affair. With Venetia?”
“But she told me you were.”
Luke looks astounded. “She can’t have done.”
“She did! She said you were leaving me for her. She said—” I bite my lip. It’s too painful to remember everything Venetia said.
“This is just…bloody…madness.” Luke shakes his head in exasperation. “I don’t know what kind of conversation you had with Venetia, what kind of…crossed wires or misinformation….”
“So you’re saying nothing’s been going on between you? Nothing at all?”
Luke clutches his hair, closing his eyes briefly. “Why would you think anything was going on?”
“Why?” I stare up at him. “Luke, are you serious? Where do I start? All those times you’ve gone out with her, just you and her. All those texts in Latin, which you wouldn’t tell me about. And everyone was so weird toward me at the office…and I saw you sitting together on her desk…and you lied, the night of the Finance Awards….” My voice is starting to wobble. “I knew you weren’t really there….”
“I lied because I didn’t want to worry you!” Luke sounds more fraught and angry than I’ve ever heard him. “My staff were weird to you at the office because I’d sent round an e-mail saying that nobody, but nobody, was to mention the company problems to you. On pain of being fired. Becky…I’ve been trying to protect you.”
I have a sudden flashback to him, sitting at his desk in the gloom, his brow creased. That was weeks ago. He’s been moody and absent ever since.
But then why would Venetia have said…
Why would she have…
“She told me you were leaving me for her.” My voice is really jumping around now. “She said you’d still want to visit the baby.” I give a sudden sob.
“Leaving you? Becky, come here.” Luke wraps his arms tightly around me, and all of a sudden I’m burying my head in his chest, tears streaming into his shirt. “I love you,” he says firmly. “I’m never leaving you. Or little Birkin.”
How did he…
Oh. He must have found my list of names.
“It’s Armageddon now,” I correct him, through my snuffles. “Or Pomegranate. That’s what I told your mother.”
“Excellent. I hope she passed out.”
“Nearly.” I try to smile, but I can’t. It’s all still too raw. I’ve had weeks and weeks of worrying and imagining and fearing the worst. I can’t just snap my fingers and act normal again.
“I thought I was going to be a single mother.” I gulp. “I thought you loved her. I didn’t know why you were being so weird. It’s been awful. If you had problems at work you should have told me.”
“I know I should.” He’s silent for a bit, resting his chin on my head. “To be honest, Becky…it’s been nice to have somewhere to escape from it all.”
I lift my head up and study Luke. He looks grim. And tired. It suddenly hits me. He looks really, really tired.
“What’s been going on?” I wipe my face. “What’s the trouble? You have to tell me now.”
“Arcodas,” he says shortly.
“But I thought it was all going so well,” I say, confused. “I thought that’s why you were opening the new offices.”
“I wish I’d never fucking pitched for them.” He sounds so bleak, I feel a thud of dread.
“Luke…what’s happened?” I say nervously. “Let’s sit down.” I make my way into Fabia’s sitting room and sink into a squashy suede sofa.
“A
load of things,” says Luke, following me. He raises his eyebrows briefly at the B and L cushions, then sits down, resting his head in his hands. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do. I want to know everything. From the start.”
“It’s been a nightmare.” He turns his face toward me. “The main nightmare being a harassment claim.”
“Harassment?” I gape at him.
“Sally-Ann Davies. Remember her?”
“Of course.” I nod. “What happened?”
Sally-Ann has worked for the company ever since I’ve known Luke. She’s quite reserved, but really sweet and reliable.
“There were…incidents between her and Iain. She says he came on to her in an aggressive, unpleasant manner. She made a complaint. Which he laughed off.”
“God, how awful,” I breathe. “So…what did you…”
“I believe Sally-Ann one hundred percent.” Luke sounds totally resolute.
I’m silent. My mind has flashed back to the manila file from Dave Sharpness’s office. The dossier he collected on Iain. All those hushed-up cases.
Should I tell Luke?
No. Not unless I have to. It would raise so many awkward questions, and he might get angry when he hears what I did. Anyway, I shredded everything in the file, so I haven’t even got the evidence anymore.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “I’d believe her too. So…what did Iain say?”
“Nothing that I’d care to repeat.” Luke’s face is tight. “He accused her of inventing the story to get a promotion. His opinion of women is pretty unspeakable.”
I frown, trying to think back over the past weeks. “Was that when you couldn’t come to my prenatal class?”
“That was the start of it, yes.” He massages his brow. “Becky, I couldn’t tell you. Believe me, I wanted to, but I knew how upset you’d get. And Venetia had just told me you needed to stay calm.”
Stay calm. Yup, that plan really worked.
“So what happened?”
“Sally-Ann was incredibly generous-spirited about it. She said she wouldn’t take it any further if she could be moved to another account. Which obviously we did. But the whole company was upset by it.” He sighs. “To be honest, Arcodas have been difficult to work with, right from the start.”
“Iain’s awful, isn’t he?” I say bluntly.
“It’s not just him.” Luke shakes his head. “The whole ethos. They’re bullies, all of them.” A shadow passes over his face. “And now…it’s happened again.”
“With Sally-Ann?”
Luke shakes his head. “Amy Hill, one of our assistants, was reduced to tears by another of the Arcodas team. He got violently angry and she said she felt physically threatened.”
“You’re kidding.”
“They walk round my company like they bloody own it.” He exhales sharply, as though trying to keep a grip on himself. “I called a meeting and requested that the member of Arcodas staff in question apologize to Amy.”
“And did he?”
“No.” Luke’s face twists. “He wants her fired.”
“Fired?” I’m aghast.
“His story is, she’s incompetent, and if she could get the job done he wouldn’t need to get tough. Meanwhile, all my staff are up in arms. They’re writing me e-mails of protest, refusing to touch the Arcodas account, threatening to resign….” Luke thrusts his hands through his hair, looking totally beleaguered. “Like I said, it’s a nightmare.”
I subside back onto Fabia’s sofa, trying to take all this in. I can’t believe Luke has been walking around with all of this to worry about for so long. Saying nothing. Trying to protect me.
Not having an affair after all.
I run my eyes over his averted face. He could still be lying, it occurs to me. Even if the stuff about Arcodas is true. He could still be seeing Venetia. He’s just playing along to keep you happy runs through my mind for the thousandth time.
“Luke, please,” I say in a rush. “Please. Tell me the truth once and for all. Are you seeing her?”
“What?” Luke turns to me, astounded. “Becky, I thought we’d dealt with this—”
“She said you were acting.” I twist my fingers miserably. “All this could just be put on. To…to keep me happy.”
Luke turns to face me square-on and takes both my hands in his, tight.
“Becky, we’re not seeing each other. Nothing is going on. I don’t know how I can put it any more plainly.”
“So why did she say you were seeing each other?”
“I don’t know.” Luke sounds at the end of his rope. “I honestly have no idea what she was talking about. Look, Becky, you’re just going to have to trust me. Can you do that?”
There’s silence. The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.
“I want a cup of tea,” I mumble at last, and get up.
I thought everything would be better when we’d talked, when we’d got it all out in the open. But here it is, out in the open like an exhibit on a podium. And I still don’t know what to believe. Without meeting Luke’s eye, I head into the kitchen and start opening all Fabia’s hand-built cupboards, looking for the tea. God, this is supposed to be my house. I’m supposed to know where the tea is.
“Try that one,” says Luke, as I open a cupboard filled with saucepans and bang it shut again, except it won’t bang because it’s so expensive and well-made. “The corner cupboard?”
“Oh, right.” I open it and locate a box of tea bags. I put them on the counter and lean against it, all energy gone. Meanwhile Luke has headed over to the huge glass doors at the back and is staring out at the garden, his shoulders rigid.
This isn’t how I planned our reunion. Not one bit.
“What are you going to do about Arcodas?” I say at last, twisting the string of a tea bag. “You can’t fire Amy.”
“Of course I’m not going to fire Amy.”
“So, what are your options?”
“Option one: I patch things over,” says Luke without moving his head. “Take the flak, smooth down some feathers, and carry on.”
“Until it happens again,” I say.
“Exactly.” Luke turns with a grim little nod. “Option two: I call a meeting with Arcodas. Tell them straight, I’m not having my staff bullied. Get an apology for Amy. Make them see reason.”
“And option three?” I can tell there’s an option three from his expression.
“Option three: if they won’t cooperate”—he pauses for a long time—“we refuse to work for them. Withdraw from the contract.”
“Would that be possible?”
“It would be possible.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs them. “It would be fucking expensive. There’s a penalty if we quit within the first year. Plus we’ve opened Europe-wide offices on the strength of this contract. It was supposed to be our brave new world. Our gateway to bigger and better things.”
I can hear the heavy disappointment in his voice. And suddenly I want to throw my arms around him tight. It was so exciting when Brandon Communications won the Arcodas pitch. They worked so hard to get it. It seemed like such a prize.
“So, what are you going to do?” I ask tentatively.
Luke has picked up an antique nutcracker from a side table. He starts rotating the handle, his face set.
“Or else I could tell my staff they just have to get on with it. A few might leave, but the others would knuckle down. People need jobs. They’ll put up with shit.”
“And have a miserable company.”
“A miserable, profitable company.” His voice has an edge which I don’t like. “We’re in this to make money, remember?”
The baby suddenly kicks me hard inside and I wince. Everything’s so…achy-painy. Me. Luke. The whole horrible situation.
“You don’t want that,” I say.
Luke doesn’t move a muscle. His face is flint-hard. Anyone watching would think he didn’t agree or hadn’t heard or didn’t care
. But I know what’s inside his head. He loves his company. He loves it when it’s thriving and successful and happy.
“Luke, the staff at Brandon C…” I take a step toward him. “They’re your family. They’ve been loyal to you all these years. Think how you’d feel if Amy was your daughter. You’d want her employer to take a stand. I mean…you’re your own boss! The whole point is, you don’t have to work with anyone.”
“I’ll talk to them.” Luke’s eyes are still focused downward. “I’ll have it out. Maybe we can make it all work.”
“Maybe.” I nod, trying to sound more hopeful than I feel.
Suddenly Luke puts the nutcracker back on the table and looks up. “Becky, if I end up pulling out of the Arcodas deal…we won’t be squillionaires. You understand that.”
I feel a pang. It was pretty exciting when it was all going so well and we were going to conquer the world and fly around in private jets. And I was planning to buy these amazing £1,000 stiletto boots from Vivienne Westwood.
Anyway. There’s a £50 version in Topshop. I’ll get those instead.
“Maybe not right now.” I lift my chin defiantly. “But we will be when you pull off your next big deal. And in the meantime”—I look around the fabulous designer kitchen—“we’re doing pretty well. We can buy an island some other year.” I think for a moment. “Actually, islands are totally over. We didn’t want one.”
Luke stares at me for a moment, then gives a sudden snort of laughter.
“You know something, Becky Bloomwood? You are going to be one hell of a mother.”
“Oh!” I color, totally taken by surprise. “Really? In a good way?”
Luke comes across the kitchen and rests his hands gently on my bump. “This little person is very lucky,” he murmurs.
“Except I don’t know any nursery rhymes,” I say, a bit gloomy. “I won’t be able to get it off to sleep.”
“Nursery rhymes are overrated,” says Luke confidently. “I’ll read it pieces from the FT. That’ll send it off.”
We both gaze down at my swollen tummy for a while. I still can’t quite get my head round the fact that there’s a baby inside my body. Which has got to come out…somehow.
OK, let’s not go there. There’s still time for them to invent something.
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