by Jane Fallon
Helen was momentarily thrown by the fact that his accent was more Romford than Rome.
"The ambulance men said she'll have no ill effects, because the pills weren't in her system long enough. Imagine what might have happened if I hadn't got here when I did." He stroked Sandra's hand fondly.
"Yes, imagine. Well, Sandra, if you're sure you're OK, I'll leave you to it. Do you need anything?" Helen was backing out of the room.
"Giovanni'll look after me," Sandra said coyly.
* * *
As she closed the front door behind her, Helen bumped into another young woman running up the steps.
"Does Sandra Hepburn live here?" She was sweating quite heavily.
"Yes. She's fine."
"Is she? Shit, I called an ambulance as soon as I got her messages."
"Go on in and see her if you want, I'm sure she'd be pleased."
"What? No, God, I hardly know her. I've done her nails a couple of times, that's all. I'm surprised it was me she called, actually."
Helen could hear the sirens approaching as she walked around the corner, looking for a taxi.
* * *
Sophie was woken by a banging on her door and Claudia's voice shouting over it.
"Mum. Mum, let us in."
Convinced that something must be seriously wrong, Sophie jumped out of bed and ran to let her daughters in.
"Dad's gone home," Suzanne said miserably. "He told the woman on the desk that he had to go back to work."
Sophie was stung. The girls were looking at her expectantly.
"Oh, right. Well, I'm sure it must've been something important."
So that was it. He'd woken up regretting all the things he'd said to her and, in typical Matthew style, he'd run away rather than face the consequences. She felt ridiculous and foolish for having been taken in by him. The bottom line was he'd seen an opportunity and tried to take it. He hadn't changed.
* * *
Matthew was already on the M4 when Helen called to tell him the panic was over. He was thinking about Sophie and the look on her face when he'd told her how he felt.
31
HELEN HAD LEFT for her last day at work before Matthew even got home. She felt exhausted, the irritation she was feeling with Sandra outweighing the relief that she was OK. Matthew had phoned, asking her to tell his temporary assistant, Marilyn, that he would be in this morning after all, but when she reached the general office, Annie and Jenny were hanging around laughing about some unfunny thing or other with Jamie, so she went straight to her computer, hoping they wouldn't spot her, and sent Marilyn an e-mail instead. She'd only been there a few minutes when Helen-from-Accounts appeared at her side, holding a small wrapped gift.
Oh, God, thought Helen, not now.
Annie turned. "Aaah, look, she's bought Helen a leaving present."
All eyes turned to look at Helen-from-Accounts, who blushed.
"Do you think it's a packet of peanuts?" Jenny shouted, and they all fell about laughing at how hilarious they were. Helen rolled her eyes at Helen-from-Accounts as if to say, "What a bunch of twats," but Helen-from-Accounts had come over all teary-eyed and threw the present onto the desk before running out in the direction of the toilets.
Great, Helen thought. Here we go again. She picked up the small box and followed, reluctantly.
"Jenny'll be getting jealous if you and Helen-from-Accounts keep on going to the toilets together," Annie called after her, and they all doubled up.
Helen went through the usual rigmarole to coax Helen-from-Accounts out of the cubicle.
"You have to toughen up," she said when the other woman had finally stopped sniveling. "They only do it because they know they'll get this reaction."
"I can't help it." Sniff. "You're the only nice person that works here." Sniff. "Apart from Matthew, of course," she added hastily, in case Helen—who couldn't care less—got offended. "And now you're leaving."
She started sobbing noisily again, and Helen patted her on the arm halfheartedly.
"Thank you for my present." She started opening the little package—anything to distract the other Helen and shut her up. Inside was a gold necklace with Helen spelled out in italics across the front. It was a carbon copy of the one which bobbed around on the throat of Helen-from-Accounts. It was hideous.
"It's beautiful, thank you. Really," she managed to say. "And I bet it's the only present I get today. It's really thoughtful of you."
"I'm going to miss you so much," Helen-from-Accounts wailed, and she threw her arms around Helen, her head reaching somewhere around Helen's chest. They stood like this for a few moments, Helen rigid as a broom handle, until she felt it was OK to break away and gently push the other woman off her. There was a small, damp patch on her shirt in exactly the right place so that she looked like she was lactating.
"You'll be fine, honestly. Just ignore them."
"Will you keep in touch?"
"Yes," said Helen, unable to imagine a single instance in which she might. "Of course."
* * *
The day dragged by endlessly. Matthew had said very little on the phone about how the funeral had gone, except that he had drunk a few too many brandies afterward and had a bit of a sore head. Sophie's phone had been switched off all morning, and Helen was beginning to think that she wasn't making any progress with her plan when her mobile suddenly jumped into life and Sophie was on the other end.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you all morning." Helen tried not to sound too impatient.
"I turned my phone off, I was trying to avoid Matthew, not that he's been trying to call me, as it turns out, or at least if he has, he hasn't left a message. Listen, I have to talk to you, can you meet me tonight?"
Something must have happened. "Definitely."
"I don't want to ask Matthew to babysit, so do you want to come over to mine? You can meet the girls, not that that's much of a draw, I have to admit."
Shit. "Oh, fuck, I've just remembered I've got something on this evening. How about lunch? I've got meetings in Soho, but if you were around…"
"I'll meet you at the Stock Pot at one."
* * *
"He asked me to sleep with him." Sophie sat back, waiting for the full impact of her statement to take effect. "And I nearly said yes."
Helen tried to take in what Sophie was saying to her. She had hoped that a night away would push Matthew and Sophie closer together, but she hadn't quite anticipated this. Her immediate reaction was one of anger. Matthew, who was always declaring his overwhelming love for her, was away for one night and he had asked someone else to go to bed with him. For fuck's sake, what was wrong with this man, was he incapable of being faithful to anyone? Almost immediately, though, while Sophie was filling her in on the details, her mood switched—this was fantastic. If Sophie would only say yes, she'd be off the hook, she'd have her life back.
"So why did you turn him down?"
"I really wanted to do it. In fact, I couldn't believe how much I wanted to. But I decided that if anything is going to happen, then I want to do it right this time. However much I hate Helen, I wasn't going to do to her what I did to Hannah. Anyway, I'm just relieved now that I did say no. I would have made a right fool of myself."
Helen's stomach turned nervously. "Why?"
"Because it was obviously just the drink talking. He snuck away before I even woke up this morning, left a message with Reception about being called away for work or something, but what could have really been that important, I mean, at six o'clock in the morning? And if it was genuine, then why hasn't he tried to call me since?"
Fucking hell, Matthew.
"Maybe whatever emergency he got called back for has kept him busy all morning."
"There was no emergency."
"Well, maybe he had a crisis of conscience. Felt bad about it all and came home to dump Helen before things went too far with you. Like you said, to do things right this time."
Sophie pushed her plate away, her food har
dly touched.
"That's what I want to believe, but I just don't. It still doesn't explain why he hasn't called."
Helen wanted to find Matthew and scream at him, "This is your one chance of happiness, so don't blow it, because I'm not going to be around for much longer." He was such a flake, so completely incapable of making an adult choice for himself.
"So you have decided you want him back, then?" she asked tentatively.
Sophie took a long breath.
"Yes. I think so. At least, I did last night. I couldn't sleep, I just kept thinking about him and what to do and I decided I should give him a second chance. Because I think he really means it. Or, I did. Now I don't know what to think, but I am not going to let him fuck me around again, I'll tell you that much. Am I being stupid?"
"Look, don't assume the worst, just wait and see what happens before you decide to write him off."
Sophie looked tearful.
"I can't go through it all again. I really can't."
They paid up and walked down toward Charing Cross Road, Helen pretending she had a meeting on Shaftesbury Avenue and wondering how far Sophie was going to accompany her before she had to go into a random building and wait there for five minutes before she dared come out again. As they crossed Cambridge Circus, she spotted Jamie coming the other way and stared steadfastly at the ground, willing him not to spot her.
"All right, Helen," he called as he passed.
"Helen?" Sophie looked confused.
"He always gets my name wrong. Drives me fucking mad. First time I met him, I told him my name was Eleanor, and he obviously misheard it as Helen and that's what he's called me ever since." Oh, God, she thought, please get me out of this. And even though she didn't believe in Him, He did. Sophie's mobile rang and she dug it out of her pocket, looking to see who was calling.
"It's Matthew. Shit, what shall I do?"
"Answer it. I'll leave you to it." Helen gestured vaguely up the road to imply that she would keep walking. Sophie grabbed her arm.
"No, wait. I need the moral support." She pressed a button on the phone. "Hi Matthew."
Helen shuffled from one foot to the other awkwardly. It was uncomfortable enough that she was listening to one end of her friend's intimate phone call, but the fact that that friend was talking to her own boyfriend, who was calling clandestinely to discuss leaving her, made it positively surreal. She tried to gauge what the gist was from Sophie's noncommittal answers.
"Mmm-hmm…I see…Oh, dear…I'm not sure…Oh, God, I don't know…OK…OK…OK…OK."
OK what, for fuck's sake?
"OK…eight o'clock, then…OK…Bye."
"Well?" Helen could hardly wait to find out what had been said.
"Apparently, one of their clients tried to commit suicide which, I suppose, does constitute an emergency. And he's been busy trying to deal with the fallout all morning, make sure it doesn't go in the papers."
Liar, thought Helen. The story had never got to the papers, because Sandra hadn't been taken to hospital. She'd made sure of it herself, phoning around the tabloids to gauge whether they'd gotten wind of anything and doing a good job of persuading the one who had that it was just a malicious rumor.
"And?"
"He's coming over tonight to talk about things. God, Eleanor, I feel really shaky. Am I doing the right thing?"
"Definitely. If it's what you want, then it's the right thing."
"Shit, I need to get a hair appointment. I've got to run." She kissed Helen on the cheek. "Thanks for everything."
"Good luck," Helen said, as Sophie hurried down toward Covent Garden. "Call me and let me know what happens."
She turned back toward Soho feeling about a stone lighter. It was nearly over. Sophie would have her husband back, Matthew wouldn't end up alone. It was perfect. There was just a tiny shadow of unease in her, and she had no idea why it was there, so she pushed it away. It was time to celebrate.
* * *
At five o'clock, Laura appeared with a bottle of champagne and a cake. It was a pitiful turnout—Laura, Helen-from-Accounts, Jamie, Matthew's new assistant, and a couple of the IT boys, who would turn up to anything if there was the promise of free alcohol. Annie made a big show of sitting out on Reception and refused to take a glass of champagne with her. Matthew popped in briefly between meetings and, as he left, he touched Helen's arm and said quietly, "I'm really sorry, I've got to work this evening. I forgot to tell you I promised to go and see Danny Petersen's show." Danny was opening as the fourth replacement for the John Travolta role in a tour of Grease at an out-of-town theater. Helen was tempted to say, "Why don't I come with you?" just to see Matthew panic, but instead she said, "Oh, poor you," and smiled benignly at him.
"I'll be home late, because I'll have to stay and have a drink with him, and then I'll be getting back from Guildford," he added, pushing his luck.
"No worries," she said, thinking, fuck, he's a really good liar.
He kissed her on the cheek discreetly, and she heard a squeal of revulsion from the reception area. Oh, fuck them, she thought, and turned Matthew's face around to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. Behind his back, she stuck one finger up in the general direction of Annie and waggled it around. She heard Helen-from-Accounts and Laura laughing. When she broke off, Matthew looked surprised and…what? Guilty? It wasn't an emotion he experienced often, and he looked unsure of how to handle it. She pushed him toward the door.
"Have a good time," she called after him.
By quarter to six, there were only Laura, Jamie, and Helen-from-Accounts left, the IT boys having escaped down to the pub and Matthew's assistant having gone home to her husband. Jamie was promising to forward any particularly juicy e-mails between Alan and Felicia to Helen's new computer, and because Laura and Helen-from-Accounts had only just found out about Alan's penchant for cybersex, he had agreed to send them on to them, as well. Helen wondered what the earliest was she could say she was going home without looking ungrateful.
Helen could see Annie hovering, wanting to come in and get her coat so she could go home, but not wanting to be forced into saying good-bye, and she was almost tempted to open another bottle just to fuck her off, but instead she started to put the last few of her things into her box, indicating to the others that it was time to go. When she looked up from her packing, Helen-from-Accounts' little fat face had gone all pink again, and tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth had crumpled like a teething baby's. She tried to smile at Helen and failed.
Oh, God.
Once again, Helen had to resist the urge to punch her.
"I just have to say good-bye to Laura before she goes."
Laura had gone into her office to get her coat and bag. Helen followed her in and shut the door.
"You know you said there'd just be me, you, a secretary, and an accounts person?" Laura looked at her quizzically.
"Well, do you know who that accounts person is going to be yet, because Helen's never going to cope if she stays here."
"Don't worry, I already thought of it. I'm going to ask her next week."
"Fantastic. Is there any way you could do it now, because she's doing my fucking head in."
Laura laughed. "OK."
Five minutes later, as Helen was putting her coat on, she heard a pig-in-an-abattoir squeal from Laura's office and smiled to herself. Shit, she thought, I'd better get out before she comes out and thanks me. She practically ran out into Reception, clutching her box. Annie and Jenny were huddled around the front desk. They looked away theatrically as she passed.
"Bye, bitches," Helen shouted cheerfully as the lift doors closed. When the lift reached the ground floor, she pressed to go straight back up to the second again.
"I meant to say, 'Bye, sad, no-life, unattractive witless bitches.'" She waved as the doors closed for the second time, leaving Annie and Jenny staring after her, openmouthed, each trying to think of a suitable comeback.
32
SOPHIE WAS DRINKING
Diet Coke, and though she'd offered Matthew a glass of wine, he'd opted for coffee. Neither of them was taking any chances this time. They had sat opposite each other, on either side of the kitchen table, as if they needed to put a physical barrier between them, something solid to stop them doing anything foolish. At one point, Sophie's ankle grazed the table leg and she jumped, thinking she had touched Matthew, then laughed when she realized how foolish she must have looked. Matthew tried to hold her gaze, but she flicked her eyes down to the table. An awkward silence hung heavy in the air. Then:
"I want to come back."
Sophie had guessed—hoped and dreaded by turns—that this was coming. She'd rehearsed what she might say in reply, planned whether to make him work for it or to throw herself on him and accept gracefully or to turn him down flat. What she hadn't managed to do was to decide which of those options she would pick when the time came. Now that he'd said it, she sat staring at her glass on the table in front of her, her mind racing. She longed to be part of a whole family again, and for all his many faults, she missed Matthew's company and their shared history. No one else would ever be able to understand and equal her love for her daughters. No one else could (or would want to) reminisce with her about the minute details of their childhood. But was that enough to base a relationship on? History? Basically, did it come down to a fear of being alone? No, she decided, she'd gotten over that fear, she knew she could cope on her own now. There was no way she was going to put herself and the girls through the trauma of being let down again. If she was going to take him back things had to be different—he had to be different—this time. She forced herself to look up and meet his gaze.