“What do you think, Mark?”
“Huh?” He coughed. “Sorry?”
“You see?” Erica turned to Nina. “He's so overwhelmed by the food, that he can't even speak coherently.” She looked back at Mark, her eyes glassy. “We were just saying how Nina could open a catering business. She's talented enough. Don't you think?”
“Absolutely.” Mark forced himself to focus. “I'd rather she came back to CarltonWachs to work for me, though.”
Nina exploded in a guffaw. “Can you imagine? No thanks, Mark. Unless I could come back as Shay's boss. Now that might be fun.” She winked down the table at her husband.
“Eh, no thanks.” Shay looked at Mark. “It's bad enough that I'm bossed about at home. I have to have someplace that I can at least pretend to have some authority.”
“What did you do when you worked at CarltonWachs, Nina?” Sandra asked.
“I was an analyst, just like Mark when he started there.” She sighed. “You see Mark, if it weren't for the babies, I could be sitting where you are now. And you might have been chopping onions all afternoon.”
“Isn't it fascinating how you all have such high powered, interesting jobs.” Robert looked around the table. “We have an analyst, a company MD, a meteorologist, an optician,” he smiled at his wife. “It's not so very long ago that you would all have been housewives. Full stop. It's really wonderful how things have progressed.”
“Hmm.” Nina looked like she was going to say something, when Shay almost shouted “And tax specialist,” across the table at Laura.
“Oh yes, let's not forget my dazzling career as a tax specialist.” Laura raised her glass in a mock toast. “It's incredibly fulfilling.”
“And you work with Laura, Fitz?” The candlelight flickered as Sandra spoke. “Are you in tax too?”
“No,” Fitz shook his head. “I mean, yes, I work with Laura, but I'm not in tax. I'm a programmer. Software development.”
“Wow. Very interesting.” Sandra sounded sincere.
“Fitz works on contract.” Laura put her arm around the back of his chair, almost aggressively. “He's very specialised. He moves around a lot, because most companies couldn't afford to employ him full-time. He's off to New York in February. For three months.” She turned back to her monkfish. “I'm thinking of going over for a week before Easter.” Fitz showed no obvious interest in this plan. “Maybe you'd drag yourself away from your husband for a weekend, Nina? We could go shopping.”
“Maybe.” Nina looked at Shay. “Maybe.”
“New York's so great,” Christine smiled at Fitz.
“It is great,” he nodded, with the look of someone who saw the trip as an escape as much as a job.
“When were you there?” Mark heard the words before he realised that it was he who had spoken them.
“Oh years ago,” Christine said. “With my family. And I attended a climate conference there with my last job. My friend Emily came over, and we stayed on a night or two afterwards. It's such a great city,” she looked back at Fitz.
“I was there last year with my girlfriends,” Sandra leaned forward to speak over Mark. “We had the best time. I love it.”
“Chicago's great too,” Mark said.
Shay stood up and went to get another open bottle from the sideboard. “It really is,” he nodded, re-filling the empty glasses on the table. Mark's was still half-full.
“Especially in the summer. The beach is fantastic.” Mark looked across the table at Erica and Robert. “Right there in the city.”
“I've only ever been there in the spring,” Christine pushed her cutlery together on her empty plate. “It is beautiful. But New York,” she looked at Fitz, “it's just different. It's like nowhere else on the planet.”
“You guys were in the States a couple of years ago, weren't you?” Robert said to Shay.
“That's right. We went to Florida just after Lucy was born.”
“Don't remind me,” Nina sat back in her chair. “What were we thinking, travelling with two small children and a baby? The thought of it now makes me want to cry.”
“That climate conference is on again in February,” Christine said quietly to Mark as the others discussed the horrors of travelling with small children. “It's in London this time.”
“Yeah?” Mark noticed that everyone else's plate was empty, so he shovelled a large forkful of beef into his mouth.
“You should go.”
Mark wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. Was she suggesting he go to London to the conference with her? The piece of beef in his mouth seemed to be taking an eternity to chew. How had he managed to find the one bit of tough meat in the whole dinner, just at this moment.
Christine fiddled with the end of her cutlery on the plate before her. “I'll definitely be going, but it would be worthwhile you attending too.” She looked straight at him. “It's only on every three years. It's quite intense, two full days of talks.”
Mark kept chewing the blasted piece of meat, imagining himself and Christine in London, together, alone, for two whole days.
“The issues are becoming more, mainstream, you know.” Christine seemed to be talking very fast. She twisted her napkin in her hands. “It's important that senior management have a good appreciation of where the thinking is. How we can use the forecasts. The new technologies involved.”
Mark swallowed the sinewy mouthful, not caring if he choked or not. “Sure. Definitely. That sounds like a great idea.” He found that he couldn't eat any more, and he set his cutlery down on his plate. Spending two nights in London with Christine Grogan definitely sounded like a great idea. “I'll get Petra to organise it as soon as we start back.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
“What are you two hatching there?” Nina stood up and took Christine's plate from her.
“Oh, just organising a dirty weekend in London, Nina, nothing you need to worry about,” Christine said.
A photograph taken of the table at that second would have shown Shay choking on the wine he had been swallowing, Mark's cheeks blazing red, Nina's eyes almost popping out of her head, and Erica's mouth set in a hard smile across her face.
“Right so,” Nina broke the shocked silence with a slightly manic smile. She lifted the stack of dirty plates before her. “Anyone ready for dessert?”
~
Christine scoured her hands with the fluffy white towel that had a jolly Santa embroidered on it. What was she doing? She had to sober up. Jesus, she was flirting with Mark. Christine leaned forward with her two hands on the wash basin. This was not the way to go. She was so angry inside, but a rebound liaison with her boss was not the answer.
Not that she wouldn't enjoy it.
Until the first day back at work after the holidays.
God, no.
She needed a fling, that was true. She wanted nothing more than to erase any trace of Gavan from her body. To create new memories to snuff out the old. But she required a willing accomplice for that, and there was little hope of one here tonight. Unless she was to seduce Fitz, who looked like someone who would happily be seduced. But no. Now was not the time nor the place. Not that she wouldn’t like a fling with Mark. If he were just an ordinary guy. If he were not her boss.
No. She would just have to get through tonight, and try not to take her smouldering rage out on anyone present. She would have a few drinks, try and relax. She might as well. Nina could put her in a taxi after midnight and send her home if she got too messy. Although she felt worryingly sober now, standing here in the cool of the cloakroom. She checked her watch. It was almost eleven. She fixed her hair a little in the mirror, and stood up straight. A crescendo of voices came from the dining room, and then it was quiet again. A moment later the handle of the cloakroom door moved.
“Oh, sorry.” Mark's muffled voice came from the other side. Christine checked the room quickly, and flicked back the lock.
“Hey,” she stood in the doorway, right in front of him
. They were almost touching. The hallway was very quiet but for an old pendulum clock tick-tocking close by on the wall. Christine wasn't sure why exactly, had she been waiting for him to say something, had he been waiting for her to move out of his way, but a second later she knew that they had stood there a moment too long. She closed her eyes and felt his strong hands on her waist, behind her back, grasping her to him. She felt his face on her cheek, her neck, his breath in her ear. She thought she heard him say something, but it was just a gasp, a sigh. Then he pulled away, and she felt a dragging, aching sensation below her stomach.
“Oh God, I'm sorry.”
“No!” She reached out her hands, grabbing his arms. “Don't be.”
Then something raised the volume on the dining room voices again, and they both instantaneously stood apart like dancers in a gavotte, he stepping into the cloakroom, she moving towards the noise.
“Hey doll, you okay?” Nina met her in the hall. Christine thought she heard the cloakroom door close softly.
“Yeah, great. Are we having dessert now? Can I help?”
“I think everyone's a bit full. I'm going to make coffee and we can have it in the sitting room. We can have dessert later on.” Christine thought Nina was slurring her words slightly. “Are you having fun Chris? What really happened with Gavan?” Nina was trying to whisper, but clearly the noise of the dining room was still ringing in her ears, and she wasn't being as discreet as she thought. “What did he do?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Christine glanced at the cloakroom door. “I'll tell you all again. I don't want to think about it tonight, okay?”
“Okay. Sure. Okay.”
Just then the dining room door opened, and the other guests filed out noisily into the hallway holding their wine glasses.
Sandra stopped and looked guiltily at Nina. “I'm just popping out for a -” She waved a box of cigarettes surreptitiously at them. “Will I use the kitchen door, Nina?”
“Sure, come on. I'm going to make the coffee. You can stand at the back door and keep me company.” She looked at the box. “Ooh, I would so love one of those.” Shay disappeared into the sitting room with the others. “Maybe I'll have one. It is New Year's for goodness sake.”
Christine shooed them off in the direction of the kitchen, and went to retrieve her wine glass from the dining room table. The room was strange in the silence. The once perfect table was strewn with discarded napkins and scattered cutlery. The reflected candlelight sat in ghostly suspension in the black window. Christine drained her glass, and looked around for another bottle. More fireworks flared in the distance.
In the quiet of the room, she tried to make sense of the last ten minutes, but she couldn't think clearly. It would be better to return to the others. She filled her glass generously, and took it with her back to the sitting room, stealing a glance at the closed cloakroom door as she passed through the hall.
Inside, Erica, Shay and Robert were seated back around the coffee table. Christine walked over to the tree. Up close, its decorations showed evidence of the younger inhabitants of the house. She lifted one, a hanging silver frame of a picture of Santa in his sleigh, with three little waving people photo-shopped in behind him. Crayoned paper chains hung from the branches next to expensive looking beading. There was even one stale looking star-shaped cookie hanging from a ribbon at the back of the tree, just out of reach. Christine remembered making those cookies with her mother. Once, they had made a whole batch, forgetting to pierce a hole for the ribbon before baking them. A ten-year-old Christine had been distraught, until her father had come home from school. He had poured four glasses of milk, and they had sat around the kitchen table together, and eaten all the defective cookies in one go.
“They're gorgeous kids, aren't they?” Erica appeared beside her, lifting the photo of Santa's sleigh in her scarlet painted fingers.
“Yeah. They are.”
“I don't know how Nina does it. Giving up work to mind them all day long. It just seems so, relentless.”
“I suppose it doesn't feel like that when they're your own.” She found it difficult to make eye contact with Erica. At that moment, Mark appeared in the doorway.
“Mark. Thought we'd lost you,” Shay said. “Grab your glass from inside on the table. I've a bottle open here.”
Mark nodded and went to retrieve his glass, but not before glancing quickly at Christine. She caught his eye and looked back at Erica to find her staring at her.
“Must be nice to have a boss like Mark,” she said.
Christine drank from her glass. “Mmm.”
“Have you ever been skiing, Christine?” Shay called from the sofa.
“Pardon?”
“Skiing? Have you ever been?”
“No.” She took her opportunity to escape from Erica, and sat down between Shay and Robert on the sofa. “Have you?”
“Years ago.” Shay looked nostalgic. “Not since the kids. Though Sandra and Robert here go with their two.”
“We're off next week to Chamonix.” Robert sat back against the cushions, his arm draped around the back of the sofa behind Christine. His shirt was open at the top, artfully exposing a suggestion of his tanned, toned chest. “The kids love it. We've gone every year since we got married.”
“Wow. You must be fantastic skiers.”
“I love Saalbach myself,” Erica flopped down on the sofa opposite, twisting one long, slender leg around the other. Christine sensed both men notice them. “Austria is just so beautiful. And the shopping is great, Christine.”
“I would like to go.” Christine didn't know why she said that. She'd never had any interest in skiing. “Maybe next year.”
There was a muffled thud from above them, and they all fell silent for a moment.
“Aren't the kids at your mother's?” Erica asked Shay.
He listened for a moment. “Must be Laura. She's staying up in the spare room.” He pointed up at the ceiling. A second later, the sound of a man’s laugh was clearly audible, followed by a squeal, and another muted bang. Erica arched a finely tweezed eyebrow and inspected her fingernails.
Shay reddened. “Maybe I'll turn on some music?” He stood up and went over to the corner of the room. The awkward silence was filled with some gentle jazzy song Christine didn't recognise. “Everyone warm enough?” Shay pointed towards the gas fire which was burning away exactly as it had been when the evening began.
Before Mark had held her to him.
Like nothing had changed.
But the gas fire couldn't know that everything had changed.
“Super, super.” Robert said from the sofa beside Christine. Then the door opened with a bump, and Mark entered holding a tray of cups and saucers, followed by Sandra, and then Nina, who was carrying a large cafetiere.
“Oh great. Thanks guys.” Erica moved some glasses on the coffee table to let him set the tray down.
“I'm surprised you let her make it, Shay,” Mark sounded excessively jovial. Christine tried to catch his eye, but he seemed determined not to look at her.
“I know, she made me promise,” Shay looked doubtfully at the pot before him. “Actually, if it's awful, we can always kill the taste with this.” He took a bottle of Baileys from a press, brought it over to the coffee table and sat down.
“Oh, lovely,” Erica smiled.
Nina put her hands on her hips. “Shay is not the only person who can make a decent cup of coffee,” she said.
Shay ran his hand along her calf as she stood next to where he sat. “Aw, don't be mad,” he looked up at her. She caved, and sat down on his knee, while Mark handed out the cups. She looked around. “Where are Laura and Fitz?”
“Don't ask,” Erica said, just as another thud came from the room above.
Nina's jaw dropped, and she went to stand, but Shay pulled her back down to him. “Forget her. It's calmer here without her anyway.”
Nina sulked, but stayed where she was. She held her cup out to Erica, who obliged with a generous das
h of Baileys. Mark handed Christine a cup. She tried again to hold his gaze, but he kept on, filling a cup for Robert and passing it to him. She hardly noticed Nina lifting the bottle and pouring from it into her coffee.
“What time is it?” asked Sandra as she leaned over Robert to reach the jug of cream.
“Time to give up the cigarettes, darling,” he said without humour. Sandra reddened as she stirred her coffee. “It's after eleven thirty,” Mark smiled at her. More fireworks exploded outside, closer this time.
“We should have got some fireworks,” Nina looked down at Shay.
There was another thud from upstairs. “Haven't we plenty of fireworks here already?” Shay tipped his head towards the ceiling and they all laughed.
“I'm just going to pop next door,” Sandra stood up from the arm of the sofa. “Check on the babysitter. The bangs might have woken the kids.”
“I'm sure they're fine,” Robert made no effort to get up.
“I'll just be a sec.” She smiled at Nina who nodded with understanding. “I'll be back before twelve.” She slipped out the door, and Christine wished she wasn't sitting so far away from Mark. She wanted to be near him again. For him to touch her again. She sat in silence, drinking her coffee, while the others chatted around her. Erica and Shay both took out their phones, and replied to New Year text messages.
After a while, Robert retracted his arm and stood up. “Excuse me everyone. I must phone my mother. She'll be waiting for the call. Bit of a tradition. I'll just be a moment.”
Christine looked at Mark while Erica and Nina discussed their own parents' situations. “No phone?”
“I have my phone alright,” he said. “Just no one to call.”
They were sitting, looking at each other across the table, when Sandra came back into the room. “Come outside, guys,” she beckoned. “It's getting close to midnight.”
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