by Anita Notaro
NOT SURE
He must be tired, she thought and just then her phone rang. She was delighted he’d phoned. She needed to feel close to him tonight.
‘Have you forgiven me?’ was not what she expected to hear.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE CONVERSATION TURNED out to be much more difficult than she’d imagined. She decided to cut straight to the chase, explaining that it wasn’t a question of forgiveness, it was all about trust – something she’d never again have with him, she didn’t add. He clearly thought she was open to persuasion. It went on and on and it ended badly and she hung up, exhausted but relieved, hardly able to believe that she had reached a point where she was refusing his advances.
When had this happened, she wondered as she settled down and tried to sleep. She hoped she’d done the right thing, was scared at the finality of it all, but knew deep down that there had never been any future anyway. It would have ended, sooner or later.
She wondered how much Chris had helped in her recovery and considered what he’d say when she told him. If she told him, she thought, but knew she would. Eventually. Funny how she felt she could trust him.
She thought about the decisions, some our own and others thrust upon us, that take us down a certain route and shape our lives. Meeting Paul, marrying him, would have taken her in a completely different direction; losing him had altered her perspective irrevocably and changed her course dramatically. Although she wouldn’t wish what she’d gone through on her worst enemy, she knew the experience had made her a different person and she sort of liked who she was now.
She slept soundly, which was odd in the circumstances, and woke feeling tired but much better. She showered and went in to the office early, determined to make up for lost time.
This week’s show was weak, Lindsay felt, with no major names on the running order. Alan was worried and Tom Watts was in a foul mood, unhappy with the look of the programme on paper.
‘We need a big name,’ he announced as soon as he walked in. They had already had a quick meeting and everyone was phone bashing. Lindsay set to work on some ideas for an interesting debate, in case one was needed if they didn’t get the hoped-for celebrity. The researchers were tearing their hair out. Alice had an offer of a new, hot Latin guy who’d taken the British charts by storm, but he’d pulled, just when she’d told everyone she had him, which didn’t help Tom’s mood. A horrible but fashionable celebrity chef had also looked likely but this morning’s tabloids had announced details of an affair with a sixteen-year-old – while his wife was six months’ pregnant, and he had, naturally enough, gone to ground.
They all worked tirelessly, not even stopping for lunch but nothing paid off and one by one they left feeling deflated. Lindsay stayed until seven, then rang Tara and Debbie to say hello and tell them of her late-night phone conversation. Tara had a date with Michael Russell and Debbie immediately offered to call round but Lindsay assured her she was OK. She went home and took a long bath, rang her mother and then curled up on the sofa, wondering where Chris was. Her phone rang around ten and something stopped her answering it. It was Paul, asking that she ring him whenever she got in. She unplugged the main line and went to bed early, checking again for a text from Chris. Nothing.
Next day in the office the atmosphere was even worse. They had resorted to C-list celebrities and nothing interesting was coming back. Alan called a meeting before Tom came in.
Lindsay proposed that, in view of the dearth of stars, they opt instead for a good discussion. She had done some work on the spiralling rate of suicide amongst young men and had the mother of a twenty-year-old victim willing to come on. There was also the possibility that a guy who had attempted suicide would be willing to talk, although Lindsay had not made contact with him directly as yet.
Tom Watts arrived in the middle of the meeting and was scathing about the idea. He acted as if Lindsay was trying to sneak in a discussion item behind his back, which was ridiculous. A heated argument ensued, with most people shying away from getting involved, sensing Tom’s mood. Alan, who should have taken the reins, didn’t and Lindsay decided to back off, but not before making it clear that she thought a good discussion was better than a list of mediocre interviews that wouldn’t hold anyone’s attention. The only option, without Alan’s back-up, seemed to be to go for the show as it stood and hope the viewers remained loyal.
On Thursday evening Lindsay went to her sister’s for dinner, to celebrate Jake’s birthday. He’d already had a party in the afternoon and was waiting at the gate for Lindsay, determined to tell her everything in minute detail. She smiled as she listened to how the fairy cakes all had sparkly bits that you could eat, ‘silver and gold and brown bits that made your fingers sticky and tasted yummy’. She had bought him a video, a book and new jeans, and he skipped along beside her trying to hold her hand and clutch his presents and a goody bag at the same time.
Anne had invited a couple of friends around and they sat and chatted and relaxed and in the background she saw Chris on TV, doing an interview from Paris on one of the major current affairs programmes.
‘Oh look, there’s Lindsay’s new boyfriend,’ Anne screamed and ran to turn up the sound. They were all very impressed and Lindsay felt funny and happy at the same time.
He looked tired but gorgeous, she thought, and wondered for the hundredth time how she’d managed to get so lucky.
‘My God, he’s some catch. What’s he like?’ Anne’s best friend Dorothy asked in admiration.
‘The find of the century, if you believe Mum,’ Anne laughed.
‘He’s not really my boyfriend, I’ve only been out with him a few times,’ Lindsay felt compelled to confess, ‘but he’s a lovely guy and I really like him.’
They cheered and toasted and slagged her and she realized she missed him a lot.
Later, at home, she tried his mobile but it rang out. It was funny that she hadn’t talked to him for a few days – didn’t even know he’d gone to Paris. She sent him a text and waited.
SAW U ON TV. ALL OK? RING WHEN U CAN. MISS U.
No reply and next morning she checked, sure there would be a message, but there was nothing, which she found strange. She arrived in the office to find an enormous yellow bouquet on her desk. She opened the card eagerly and was disappointed to read the message. ‘Let’s start again. Please?’ She dumped the card and felt like doing the same to the flowers.
She worked late, helping to inject as much life as she could into a lacklustre show. Alan stayed with her, admitting that he didn’t feel great when they stopped for a pint together on the way home. Apparently, he’d been having stomach pains for a couple of weeks and hadn’t had time to go to his G.P. which Lindsay told him was downright stupid. They parted and he promised to have a check-up early the following week. When she arrived at her house there was a note in the door from Paul, asking her to call him. She tore it up.
Later, Lindsay left a message at home and on Chris’s mobile and waited expectantly. She began to feel uneasy but didn’t know why.
He rang on Saturday morning, just as she was rushing out to work.
‘Hi, it’s Chris.’
‘Hi there, stranger. When did you get back?’
‘Late on Thursday night. I ended up in Paris.’
‘I know, I saw you on TV. How have you been?’
‘Fine, you?’
Something didn’t feel right about the conversation but Lindsay, not knowing any better, barged ahead as normal.
‘I’m good. Busy week, not-great show tonight so the pressure’s on.’
‘You didn’t make it to the party after all the other night?’
‘No, I felt a bit awkward, to be honest. Silly, I suppose?’
‘So what did you do instead?’
‘Nothing much. Stayed here, worked, went to bed early.’
‘Any callers?’
‘Er, no, no.’ Why was he asking? Did he know something?
Stop it, she chided herself, you�
��re being paranoid. ‘So, was it a good night?’
‘I got pretty drunk actually. Have you been out anywhere since?’
‘No. Jake’s party was the highlight of my week. So, when am I going to see you again?’
‘I’m not sure, I’ve a bit of a mad weekend. I’ll give you a call.’
‘Oh, right . . . Chris, is everything OK?’
‘Fine, why?’
‘You seem . . . I dunno, distant. Is it something I’ve done?’ She hated herself for asking. Funny how the old insecurity crept in immediately.
‘You tell me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing, listen I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you again.’
‘OK, bye.’
‘Bye.’ Click. He was gone.
She was afraid.
Everything that could go wrong did, most of it live on air on the show that night. They lurched from crisis to crisis. Tom was livid. Tempers flared. Everyone suffered.
As soon as he saw the audience, Tom attacked Monica and Marissa. ‘It looks like a geriatric ward. This is not good enough, if you two can’t manage a simple task like that we’ll have to find someone who can.’ Marissa hung her head and Monica was almost in tears. Lindsay was upset that others could overhear, but said nothing, afraid to aggravate an already fraught situation.
It got worse. As soon as they went on air, with a top-ten female solo artist – the best thing on the show by a mile – sound had a technical problem and the backing track failed in the middle of the song, leaving her miming to nothing. She stopped dead. The floor manager cued manic applause, Tom apologized but the artist was furious and barely spoke during the interview. Then Tom got annoyed and cut it short, leaving them with ten minutes to fill later and a handful of mediocre guests, one of whom turned up late and had to be dropped and another who was so boring that even Lindsay had trouble staying awake. Alan looked grey in the face and she felt really sorry for him. He was a nice man but not strong enough for their heavyweight presenter.
After what seemed like an eternity the final music sounded, but not before one final disaster – a 10,000-euro Greek holiday giveaway to an obnoxious woman who acted as if she was allergic to everything Greek and asked for the money instead. Tom nearly hit her and Alan cued the credits immediately, cutting off his good night, which irritated him even further, if that were possible.
The atmosphere in the hospitality suite was tense. Tom was ignoring the entire team and Alan looked like he hadn’t the energy to deal with it. None of the guests had hung around, which was unusual and Lindsay had one quick drink before she made her escape, feeling down about the show and worried about Chris.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
NEXT MORNING LINDSAY decided to ring Chris, then worried about his reaction. Without thinking, she jumped up, showered and dressed in her favourite denim jacket, white T-shirt and long floaty skirt. She wanted to appear casual, so she tied her hair back in a blue ribbon, applied only a little make-up and raced Charlie to the car. There was only one way to tell if her hunch was right – see him face to face and talk to him and sort it out, whatever it was. She’d decided to surprise him with breakfast so she stopped off at a good deli and bought flaky croissants and soft muffins and warm, nutty rolls. She also got all the Sunday papers, even though he would probably have them already – picked up some fresh juice and headed for his apartment, not sure what she would do if he wasn’t home.
His car was there so she bounded up the steps and waited, not wanting to let him know in advance she was there. Sure enough an unshaven, sleepy-looking, twelve-year-old carrying BMW keys came out shortly afterwards and held the door for her. Those IT millionaires are getting younger looking every day, she decided.
Charlie dashed up the stairs ahead of her and she smiled as she remembered her last visit to his home. She couldn’t wait to see him again and grinned as she settled Charlie down outside his front door, surrounded by papers and pastries – which he kept trying to sniff at. He looked comical and she was laughing as she rang the bell and crouched down in the corner, looking like a two-year-old in her trainers and long, flowery skirt.
‘Hello, who are you?’ She was amazed to hear a woman, thinking it must be his sister, the younger one, by the sound of the husky voice. She jumped up, red-faced, about to apologize when she came face to face with a young woman she knew wasn’t his sister.
She’s wearing my shirt, was her first ludicrous thought as she stared stupidly at the blonde girl with the tousled hair. Carefully tousled hair, wearing make-up, high heels and his shirt. Her shirt. Her heart started pounding and her head felt noisy. She said nothing.
‘Hi, are you looking for Chris?’ She seemed very nice, which made it worse, if that were possible. She had a friendly grin and big boobs.
What is it with men and blondes with big boobs she asked herself, remembering Paul in the restaurant.
‘No, sorry, I must have the wrong apartment.’ She didn’t know how she managed to make sense in her stunned state, but somehow the words tumbled out and she grabbed Charlie’s lead and dashed back down the stairs, convinced she was going to have a heart attack and die on his doorstep.
‘Excuse me, you’ve forgotten your things . . .’ the girl had bent down to pick them up and Lindsay turned, noting long legs and red nails, then blue eyes and Chris all in the same split second.
She turned and fled and she heard him coming after her and knew she had to get away fast. Just as she got to the outside door he sprinted ahead of her, throwing his weight against the heavy wood and blocking her way.
He had just showered and she could smell him and she wanted to slap him.
‘Why didn’t you tell me . . . ? You promised me, remember?’
‘Why didn’t YOU tell me?’
She said nothing, not knowing what he was talking about, concentrating as she was on not letting him see her cry.
‘You said you wouldn’t cheat on me . . . Why? I don’t understand . . . even if you had lost interest you could have ended it before . . .’
He stared at her with the same cold eyes she’d seen that night in studio, although now that she knew him better she recognized the shadings – then he’d been wearing the icy-blue angry ones whereas now he had on the newest pair of grey, distant ones.
His lip curled and he sort of smirked and she didn’t like it.
‘I saw you the other night. I called to see if I could persuade you to join me at the party. Was he who I thought he was?’
She could feel the hot, blackberry colour starting in her chest, staining her neck and her ears and her face. He laughed but it wasn’t pleasant.
‘It didn’t take you long to forgive him, did it?’ The grey turned to the coldest blue she’d ever seen and she shivered. ‘So don’t you dare lecture me about cheating.’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘Don’t lie. I saw you. I was standing outside when you were in the bedroom. You make up pretty quickly.’ His voice was a sneer.
‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘You didn’t even have the courage to tell me. I asked you. Specifically. Twice.’ He almost spat the words and it made her feel cheap and nasty.
They stared at each other, full of animosity and hostility, for what seemed like ages.
‘I hate you.’ She didn’t mean it, life would be much simpler if she did, she realized sadly. It tumbled out like so many other things she’d told him since they’d met.
What she really hated was what he’d done to her, what he’d given and taken away so quickly. She hated him for not trusting her and mostly for not even giving her a chance to explain. Hated him for looking so normal while she was falling apart. Hated him for replacing her so effortlessly.
She made to push past him but he grabbed her arm and held it too tightly. ‘You fooled me. I thought you were different.’
‘Let go of me.’
Suddenly she was out of control and she screamed and lashed out at him, punch
ing him in the stomach in an effort to loosen his grip. Charlie started barking quite viciously and the girl in the shirt and high heels came running down the stairs.
‘Chris, what’s going on?’
Lindsay pushed past him, crying openly now, wanting desperately to escape, her breathing heavy and her heart pounding. He grabbed her and twisted her round to face him.
‘You can’t even admit it now, can you? I rang several times during the evening, just in case. But you were obviously too busy to answer the phone.’ He moved very close, his face inches away from her. ‘I know he stayed the night and you didn’t even have the guts to tell me.’
‘He didn’t.’
‘You’re a liar.’ It was the final nail in an already sealed coffin.
‘Let me go.’ It was a pathetic, whispering plea. He looked as if he was either going to ignore it or slap her and then he silently stepped out of the way and she passed him as if in slow motion, hair flying and dog bounding. She didn’t look back.
She ran, past her car, the houses, the sleepy Sunday traffic.
Charlie loved it and he was laughing at her as they sped along the still snoring streets.
She had to stop eventually, but she couldn’t let anyone see her distress, so she put on her sunglasses and walked as fast as her unfit body would allow, wiping her streaked face and runny nose on her sleeve. Afterwards she didn’t know how she got home. It was a good hour’s walk and she remembered absolutely nothing of it.
Once in the door she didn’t cry, just sat in the chair and tried to decipher it all. None of it made sense. If he had seen her, why hadn’t he just knocked on the door? Why had he stayed outside, spying on her? What did he mean when he said he knew Paul had spent the night? Unless he’d somehow seen his car still there next morning? But he didn’t know Paul’s car, did he? Why had he looked at her with such hatred? Why had he made no effort to let her explain? And worst of all, how could he go off with someone else before they’d even had a chance to talk?
When she couldn’t stand it any longer she grabbed Charlie’s lead again and went out and walked the streets once more. Anywhere, she didn’t care, just as long as she was moving. She felt nothing like she’d felt when Paul had left her – perhaps it had been more of a shock then, whereas with Chris she’d never really anticipated a future. Still, she felt lonely for what they’d had. Hollow, as if a bit of her had gone missing. Cold. Add to that angry, confused, stunned and wanting to kill him and it just about summed up how she felt. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going to let it destroy her.