by Emma York
“Because I want to know every single detail about this man.”
“Fine but if he turns up in one of your books, you owe me royalties.”
“Done. Now wine me then whine at me.”
“That didn’t really work, did it?”
“Shush, corkscrew girl. Get going.”
We talked long into the night, an empty bottle joined by a second just after midnight when she finally agreed to come to the conference.
Anna put her glass down and clapped her hands. “Right, fine, I will come with you.”
“You will?”
“If only to see this God of a man you’ve been describing.”
“I never called him a God.”
“No but you described him like one. I need to see him for myself. But first, we need to work out how you’re going to behave. Mega-bitch goes on tour.”
“I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a mega-bitch,” I said, my eyelids starting to sag. “Or a boss. Why can’t someone else be in charge? It’s so tiring.”
“Oi, self pity is not allowed. You are doing this to fund the mortgage on this house. And more importantly to keep me in the rich tea biscuits I’ve become accustomed to. No Value biscuits for us. We get brand name ones like the Queen.”
“So you want me to keep the job so we can have nice biscuits?”
“And to keep the food club running. You forget we almost lost this house when you put your last severance packet into making up the shortfall.”
“We had to keep it running. What was I supposed to do?”
“And what would we do if we lost this place?”
“At least the kids would have been fed.”
“You’re too nice, Lucy. You need to be careful. Don’t relax and start sharing ideas with this Bill guy. Don’t let Snuggly Rabbit happen again.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“So let’s talk conference tactics.”
“Let’s do it tomorrow night. I’m exhausted and I haven’t even started looking through the file yet.”
“Fine but if I’m coming with you, we need a plan in advance. We need a way to keep you safe from Bill.”
I went to bed agreeing with her. I fell asleep thinking she couldn’t be more wrong. I didn’t want to be kept safe from him in those few silent moments before dreams took me. I wanted to be with him, telling him he hadn’t been naughty, I had, I was sorry for hanging up his phone, for blocking in his car, for not bending over when he told me to.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face but by the morning, I wasn’t smiling. I was hungover. A great start to my second day on the job.
I took a cab to work, not sure if the wine was out of my system enough to drive. I spent the day in one meeting after another, finding out the progress of most of the upcoming publications. I kept hearing whispers about Marty Berghaus, about the fact his book had yet to appear. I resolved to talk to Bill about it first chance I got but the chance didn’t come. By the time I was free, the office was empty, he’d gone home. I’d hardly seen him.
Trying not to think about why I felt disappointed, I headed to the lift. When I got outside the streets were heaving with commuters and the chance of getting a cab home looked non-existent.
I decided I’d take a walk for a while, clear my head. The meeting rooms were stuffy as anything and a day in them had left me crying out for some open space to catch my breath.
There was a park near the office. It was down a quiet street and not a lot of people knew about it. I’d only found it when I got lost about a year ago, the first time I was glad to lose my way as I found my own secret garden. It was lovely in there.
The boundaries on three sides were tall trees which shielded both the wind and noise of the city. There was an expanse of grass with flowerbeds well looked after and even a couple of bee hives by the pond. The grass was wet, it must have rained in the last couple of hours. The fish didn’t mind the weather, swimming lazily from one side of the pond to the other as I passed, heading uphill to look at the view. They were so close to the river yet they’d never reach it. I knew how they felt. I wanted to be in publishing but I didn’t like telling people what to do. I had a goal that was just out of reach, make the money to run the food club. But the only way to earn enough for it to be secure was to do a high pressure job like this.
Would every day be the same if I got the full time post at the end of my trial? One meeting after another with hardly time to glance outside at the blue sky, the trees? The river?
The park sloped upwards towards a peak two thirds of the way in before descending again towards the river. I stood on top of the peak, looking down at the three benches which faced the Thames. There was one person sat on the middle bench, looking out at the water. That was my spot. Was that Bill?
I had thought the park was my private secret space. Something about him being here annoyed me. I had just managed to get him out of my head and there he was, just sitting there like he owned the park, like he owned the city, relaxed as anything.
In something approaching a tantrum, I spun around and went to storm off to find somewhere else to think. In spinning around, I caught my heel on the wet grass and fell. Fantastic, I thought as I went to get up. But I couldn’t get up. The grass was too slippery and the momentum of my fall was sending me sliding down the slope with increasing speed.
“Shit,” I managed to say as I tried to slow my descent. I could see what was at the bottom of the hill and if I didn’t stop in time I was going to…
Splash.
I screamed, gasping with shock at the cold as I landed slap bang in the middle of the pond. It wasn’t deep but the water was freezing. The fish scattered at my rude intrusion into their world. I pushed my foot down but it caught in a weed underwater. The more I tugged, the more it got stuck until I had no choice but to pull my foot free from my sock. I was still fighting for breath, the cold like a blanket suffocating me, my clothes clinging to me, the mud sucking at my ankles.
“Need a hand?”
I looked up and there he was. The smirk was gone from his face. Instead he radiated concern, his arm outstretched towards me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, yanking my foot free and pulling myself up onto the bank. Both shoes were gone. “Great,” I said to myself, “that’s just great.”
I was dripping onto the grass and my body began to shiver uncontrollably a second later.
“Come on,” he said, hand still held out towards me. “You need to get warm.”
“I’m perfectly all right,” I said, getting up and slipping straight back down, the winning combination of wet muddy socks and wet grass impeding any chance I had of leaving the park with a shred of dignity intact.
“You’re not,” he said, his voice colder. “And you’re going to freeze to death if you stay there.”
“I’m leaving,” I said, once more trying and failing to get to my feet.
I heard him swear under his breath and then all of a sudden his hands were in my armpits.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
He had already yanked me up right before I got the words out. “Come on,” he said, holding onto my arm, looping his through it. “I know somewhere you can get warm.”
“I bet you do,” I muttered through chattering teeth. If he heard me he didn’t mention it. He just led me across the grass towards the exit.
I concentrated on the cold, on trying not to fall, not on the fact his arm was linked through mine. I felt humiliated enough without thinking about that. I was going to be a laughing stock at work tomorrow, there was no doubt he’d tell everyone what had happened. In two days the new boss had managed to smack herself in the face and then lose her shoes when she fell into a pond. Fantastic.
“This way,” he said as we reached the street. “It’s just over there.”
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, too cold to argue properly.
“Future Trends.”
SIX - BILL
Until she fell in the pond, I hadn�
��t seen her all day. I had caught up with Ellie, hearing about the meetings, the way she was getting stuck into the publishing schedule, wanting to know all the details about the upcoming books.
I thought she’d come and find me. She was sure to want to know more about Marty Berghaus and his elusive manuscript. But she never appeared by my desk.
I figured I’d catch her tomorrow. Wednesday was another day. Tuesday was always park day. It was the day of the week I went to sit for a while in the park facing the river, the place my parents used to bring me when I was little. “You own this,” they would tell me. I used to think every boy owned a park.
I saw it as like Kirren Island in The Famous Five, who doesn’t own an island or a park? I used to imagine the river ran around all four sides, that I was in my own kingdom, climbing the trees to fight off imaginary smugglers, sometimes pirates. That was where my interest in books first came from, sitting on that bench facing the river and reading to my heart’s content while my parents bickered nearby in voices not quiet enough to be private.
I would lose myself in books, voraciously working my way through Blyton and then Lewis before graduating to Dickens, first editions quietly sneaked out from my father’s library. He never read them, I reasoned, why shouldn’t I? He'd bought them as 'investments,' I hated that. Books were meant to be read.
I was a few years older before I started to realise it wasn’t that common to own first editions or parks. I owned a park in the middle of one of the most expensive cities in the world. I’d been offered a fortune to sell the land several times. It was worth millions if I let some developer put tower blocks on it. I would never sell though. Not for all the money in the world.
This was where I’d come to think after the market crash, to reassess the businesses, to work out what the hell to do next. It was my private spot and I would never sell it. Nor would I lock the gates when I left like my father used to. I wanted other people to be able to visit too, to enjoy the peace away from the tumult of the city.
My peace that evening was rudely shattered by the sound of a scream. I shot to my feet and ran towards the source of the noise, hearing a splash and realising what had happened before I saw.
Someone had fallen in the pond. How had they done that? I got there and knew at once. There was a muddy streak on the hillside where they’d slid down and in and who was it in there?
“Need a hand,” I said, seeing Lucy coated in mud, her clothes clinging to her.
I was hard almost at once. She was too busy trying not to freeze to notice but her jacket was open, her blouse stuck to her curves, the outline of her bra visible as she petulantly refused to accept my assistance.
She slipped and grumbled and sulked for a minute before I had enough. I needed to take charge.
I grabbed her and hauled her upright, heading out of the park and over the road to the clothes boutique on the far side. I pushed open the door, pulling her in and looking at her properly. Her head wasn’t wet but the rest of her was soaked. She was still dripping water onto the carpet, her lips almost blue. She stood looking back at me, her arms folding across her chest, her whole body shaking.
“What size are you, a fourteen?”
She nodded slowly, as if she was struggling to think properly. I turned away, grabbing clothes off the racks. I found a full outfit for her. Blouse, vintage cardigan, long skirt. “What shoe size?”
She stuttered her answer so much, I struggled to decipher but finally I was able to understand and with that knowledge, I found a decent pair of black Mary Janes.
I held them out towards her. “Put these on,” I said.
“I can’t afford them,” she replied, shaking her head. “They’re too expensive.”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about not freezing to death.”
She still refused. “I should just go home and change.”
“You really are stubborn, aren’t you? Don’t you like them?”
She glanced at the clothes draped over my arm. “I love them but I can’t afford them.”
“I didn’t ask if you could afford them.”
A figure appeared from behind the coat rack in the corner. “Can I help you at all?”
“Just give us five minutes,” I replied.
“Where’s he going?” Lucy asked, watching him head out of the front door.
Once he was gone, I flicked the sign to closed and locked it before saying, “Get undressed.”
I said it in my firmest voice. She looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time. She looked the way all the subs did before the training began, afraid but excited.
“Turn around,” she replied, a note of pleading to her voice. I did as she asked, listening as she walked into the changing room and pulled the curtain closed. I could hear her begin to undress behind the curtain. I could feel my cock stiffening in response, trying to whisper to me. You’re alone in the shop together with her. She’s locked in. No one knows she’s here. She’s almost naked. She’s weak, she’s vulnerable. You could do anything to her. You could grab her and fuck her right now.
I knew the thought was correct but I wasn’t going to give in to it. This wasn’t the right place. It wasn’t the right time. I needed her to give herself willingly to me. It had to be that way if it was going to work.
“Are you all right?” I asked after hearing nothing but breathing for more than a couple of minutes.
“Can you help?” she replied in a quiet voice, as if she was ashamed of herself for even asking.
I pulled open the curtain to find her fumbling with her buttons of her blouse, her cold fingers clearly too numb to work them loose.
I walked over slowly, stopping in front of her. “Keep still,” I said, undoing the top button. I tried not to stare at her cleavage as it came into view but I couldn’t help it. Each button that came away revealed more of her chest until the shirt was finally open. Her bra was black, lacy, and through it I could see the hardness of her nipples, the swell of her breasts making me want to cup, caress, roughly grope, bite, suck, lick, all the things I had told myself it wasn’t time for yet.
“Thank you,” she said, peeling off the shirt and placing it neatly on top of her jacket on the nearby chair. “What are you doing?”
I was already kneeling down, undoing the zip at the top of her skirt. “You’re welcome to do it yourself,” I said.
“I can't,” she admitted. “My hands are too cold.”
I slid the zip down, her skirt slackening around her hips. With a tug, I started to lower it.
“I can handle it now,” she said.
“I know,” I replied, continuing to slide it down to the floor. “Step up.”
She lifted one leg and then the other. I put the skirt to one side, reaching up to her tights and peeling them slowly down, listening to her breathing change. I stared at her panties. They were soaked, her skin visible through them. My cock throbbed painfully at the sight.
“Up,” I said. She leaned on my back as I pulled the tights from one foot and then the other. “Keep still,” I said, standing and walking behind her.
I took a look down at the curve of her ass, wanting her more than ever. Then I unhooked her bra with a single swift motion.
She gasped, grabbing hold of it, pressing it to her chest. She turned to face me, keeping her arms in place. She was still shivering, looking innocent, ready to be told what to do next.
I opened my mouth to say something when my phone rang. Cursing my luck, I said, “One second,” before pulling it out.
It was Malcolm. He never rang unless it was important.
“I can do the rest,” she replied, her free hand grabbing the clothes I’d chosen and pulling the curtain closed once again.
“What is it?” I asked as I answered the phone, trying to ignore the whispering voice telling me not to let her dress, to fuck her there and then.
“I did some digging and you’re not going to like it.”
“Go on.”
Sandra and Marty ha
ve had a history since before the first book.”
“Have they? She kept that quiet.”
“It looks like they planned this together all along. Not only that but it’s not the first time she’s done it. I’ve been running through some of the previous contracts and she’s been creaming a percentage off an awful lot of them.”
“But you sign off on the contracts before they go out.”
“She found a loophole.”
“Where?”
“We signed off on them. She then changed the terms and sent them to book keeping. They acted on what was in front of them. Never thought to check.”
“So she altered the terms?”
“It looks that way. Listen, can you come in and go through them with us?”
“Not in the office,” I replied, lowering my voice so Lucy wouldn’t hear. “We don’t know who she’s still connected to.”
“Where then?”
“Have you still got that office on Bridge Street?”
“Yep, it’s empty though until the new team get trained up.”
“Perfect. Meet me there tomorrow morning.”
“It might take a few days to go through everything, just so you know.”
“I don’t care how long it takes as long as we get the Marty Berghaus contract sorted first. We can’t afford him to bleed us dry over this.”
“I’ll bring the paperwork. You bring the pizza menus. It’s been a while since we had an all nighter.”
“See you tomorrow, Malcolm.” I hung up before calling out to Lucy,” How’re you doing in there?”
She pulled the curtain open a second later. “All right now I can do buttons up again,” she said, smiling as she stepped out. “How do I look?”
I looked her up and down. “Stunning.”
“Even with mud covered hands?”
“Even with mud covered hands.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this lot though.”
“Leave that to me.”
“You can’t be-”
I nodded just as I heard a knock on the door. I looked, then headed over and unlocked it.
“All done?” David asked.
“Yes, thanks. Put those on my account, would you?”