So finally, after I had graduated, Markus was invited to dinner at my parents’ house. I had my first junior job in television then and he was still studying for his architecture qualification. I was apprehensive about this meeting. My mother could be so cold and critical and would let people know if she did not approve of them. I travelled home the night before. I wanted everything to be just right for him. My mother had bought a large tray of takeaway moussaka from the delicatessen, which she planned to serve up with a salad. The next evening she laid the table with earthenware plates and goblets for the wine.
‘Rather fun to be a bit rustic, don’t you think, Heja?’ she said.
I was beside myself. Had Markus been someone she approved of she would have cooked an elaborate meal for him. Her finest porcelain and silver would have been brought out. She was making a point. He was a socialist, so let him eat takeaway.
The beauty of it was that Markus preferred it that way. I was standing next to her as she opened the door to him and I felt her shock of recognition when she saw him standing there. His eyes were more dazzling than any TV camera could ever capture. He followed her into the sitting room and my dad got up and shook hands with him.
My mother said, ‘We’re going to be informal tonight. I hope that’s all right with you, Markus?’
He turned his eyes on her and smiled. ‘Sounds good to me...’
I was standing by the fireplace, watching this exchange, and my love for him was so overwhelming that I felt like that paper ballerina who leaps into the fire to join her tin soldier and as he melts she is consumed in an incandescent flame with him.
At dinner Markus and my father spoke easily and comfortably together. They were discussing a recent performance of The Caucasian Chalk Circle, which was part of a Brecht revival that had just finished in Helsinki. My mother, who had said very little all evening, broke into their discussion to insist that we take our coffee in the sitting room. We all stood up and trooped through to the other room. Then Markus reached into his rucksack and pulled out a book, which he handed to her.
‘Thank you both so much for tonight. I’ve really enjoyed it. I found this in a bookshop and thought you might like it.’
He handed her a large old book with a brown leather cover, the title embossed in gold. It was a collection of photographs of Helsinki. My mother rested the book on her lap and turned the pages delicately with her manicured fingers. The photographs were all black and white and very beautiful.
‘This is most kind,’ she said in a tight voice. My dad walked over and sat next to her on the sofa. She turned the book towards him.
‘Ah, I know that building – look how the street has changed. May I?’ he asked, taking the book from my mother.
He turned to the frontispiece. ‘Published in 1932. Where did you find this, Markus?’
‘There’s an antiquarian bookshop quite near the university. I’ve been going there for years, looking for textbooks on the cheap. I like to collect photographs of buildings, and the owner knows me now and keeps certain books back for me.’
‘This is really very fine. Thank you, Markus.’
After he had gone I helped my mother clear away. She said nothing about Markus and I did not thank her for serving us a takeaway meal. Then we both went back to the sitting room. My dad was still looking at the book. He looked up and saw me watching him and said, ‘I liked your Markus very much. He has good taste and lovely manners.’
Kathy
JUNE
Aisha and I were working late. She was typing up my notes for my board presentation, which I was to do the following day. I nipped out to get us both a coffee and saw that Heja was still at her desk and Philip was in his office. He would be preparing for the board meeting too. These were always highly stage-managed affairs and Philip was expert at working his board members.
I asked Heja how she was and she said she was fine, thanks. She didn’t say what she was working on. She rarely volunteered information so I asked her directly and she said she was clearing her backlog. I told her I was going to the café down the road and did she want anything to keep her going? She thanked me politely and said she had her water with her. I can never seem to get beyond polite exchanges with Heja.
I hurried back with our coffees and stood at Aisha’s side as she typed up my notes and also inserted a table of figures she’d put together. These outlined the demographics of our readers, where they travelled on their holidays and which potential advertisers might want to reach them. It was an excellent piece of research.
‘That’s brilliant, Aish, just brilliant.’
‘You sure that’s everything you need?’
‘Absolutely. Go! You have packing to do. I can’t thank you enough for staying late tonight.’
She printed off my presentation and placed it in a folder with other papers.
‘Good luck tomorrow. You’ll be great. And I’ve left some detailed handover notes for the temp and some other stuff that needs your attention.’
She handed me the folder. I kissed her on the cheek.
‘What would I do without you? Have a great holiday.’
She was off to Crete for two weeks the next morning and had organized a temp to come in and support me. I sat at my desk for a few more minutes, reading through the presentation notes. They were good. It was nearly seven-thirty and I needed to go. I went to the Ladies and then back to my office; turned everything off; picked up my bag and folder and locked the office. As I walked past Philip’s room I saw that Heja was now sitting in there with him. He was sitting back with a glass in his hand, chatting with her, and she was holding a glass too. He looked up and I waved goodbye.
Why did it make me uneasy, seeing Heja sitting in there with him? She was having a drink with him. What was niggling me was the memory of our lunchtime conversation when she’d asked to be made my deputy. I’d said no, that Philip would never allow it, but I hadn’t actually asked him. Could she possibly be suggesting it to him now? Was that why she’d been working late – to catch Philip in his office? The idea of her going behind my back made me feel queasy. I hailed a taxi as there was no time to walk home tonight.
Then again he might just have seen her sitting there and asked her into his office to flirt with her. Aisha reckoned he fancied her. He had had affairs with colleagues before. I remembered the whole Andrea business, which had happened about two years ago, and what bad feelings that had caused in the team. Could Heja be getting involved with Philip? It was possible. That thought made me feel uneasy too.
I got home at ten to eight, later than I’d arranged with Fran. I’d just unlocked the door and Fran came out of Billy’s room, holding him. She looked flustered and Billy’s cheeks were very red and he was crying.
‘He’s been teething all day. I was about to give him some Calpol.’
‘Poor baby; let me feed him first.’
I took Billy from her and sat straight down in his room and unbuttoned my blouse. Billy fastened on to my right breast and started to suck. I looked up and Fran was standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry I’m late back. Thanks so much for staying on tonight, you really helped me out.’
She didn’t move. She just stood there and her lips began to tremble and then she burst into tears, great gulping sobs that shook her body.
‘Fran! What is it?’
She sat down on Billy’s toy box, pulled some wet wipes from the box and blew her nose.
‘Sorry, sorry...’
I was trying to feed Billy and liked to be calm when I did this but Fran needed my sympathy.
‘Go into the kitchen, sweetheart, and put the kettle on. I’ll get Billy down and then we can talk.’
Fran got up and I transferred Billy to my left breast and he sucked contentedly, his teething pain forgotten. I looked at my watch and saw it was after eight already and Markus was due back around eight-thirty. No food cooked and I wanted to go through my presentation again. But needs must – clearly Fran was going through some kind o
f crisis. Fran was good with Billy and I relied on her; I needed her to be OK. Billy, now replete with breast milk, had fallen asleep in my arms so I laid him down gently in his cot. His little cheeks were still flushed and his hair a bit damp around the temples, otherwise he seemed fine.
I went into the kitchen. Fran had stopped crying and had made a pot of tea and I poured us both a cup.
‘Now, tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.’
She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Andros dumped me last night!’
‘Andros...?’
And it all came out: how she had been dating this Andros for nine months; how she’d helped him by paying the fees for his motor maintenance course and how last night, out of the blue, he had dumped her. She’d had her suspicions for a while, that he was after this Greek Cypriot girl who lived on his estate. He had taken her money and used her and then dumped her, and she was clearly wretched.
I tried to console her as much as I could. I said she was a lovely young woman with so much to offer. It was far better to know now that he was a rat than to waste years on him. There was someone much better out there for her. I don’t think it helped much though she had calmed down.
‘I’d say have tomorrow off, Fran, it’s just I’ve got this big presentation I have to do.’
‘No, no, I’ll be here. I’m better being at work.’
Just then we heard Markus letting himself in and Fran stood up.
‘I’ll be off.’
She was a bit in awe of Markus, I think. I got up and gave her a hug. ‘It will be all right.’
After she’d gone I told Markus what had been going on. It was now after nine and I felt drained and a bit headachy. We ate a late supper and I decided I was too tired to go through my presentation again. I’d set the alarm for an early start.
The alarm went off at six-forty and I unglued my eyes. I was so tired and longed to sleep more but knew I would feel better if I’d prepared properly for the board meeting. I made myself get up, showered and dressed in my smart black and orange dress and proper grown-up shoes. I had learned that you needed to look the part of editor when meeting board members. I brushed my hair vigorously and put on mascara and expensive earrings.
Markus was stirring as I went into the kitchen to get my folder of notes. There were some expense claims on the top of the pile, which was odd as I was sure I’d put my presentation notes on top. I flicked through these. Below were Aisha’s handover notes and then some invoices and that was it. My presentation notes weren’t there. Puzzled, I went through the papers in the folder again – they were not there. I wondered if I had taken them out last night. I got my handbag and searched through it. No. I looked at the various piles of magazines and flyers on the kitchen table and started to riffle through them with an increasing feeling of anxiety. Then I went into my study to look for the notes. My dress was close fitting and I was starting to sweat. Markus was now in the kitchen, making coffee.
‘Do you want coffee?’ he called out.
‘I can’t find my notes!’
He walked out into the hall and watched me checking through the papers on my desk with increasing desperation.
‘When did you last see them?’
I thought back. ‘I looked at them in the office. Then I took a taxi home. Oh, shit! Could they have fallen out in the taxi?’
‘They’ll be on your system at work. Go in now. You’ve got time.’
‘They’re not on my system. They’re on Aisha’s!’
I grabbed my mobile phone and rang Aisha’s number. I was pacing up and down the hall now as it rang and rang, and remembered that she was taking an early flight to Crete. It went straight to her recorded message. Then I heard Billy making his waking-up noises.
‘No answer from Aisha! She’s probably on a plane by now. Markus, I need you to change and feed Billy. I have to go into the office at once. Sorry, I have to go. Fran will be here soon.’
I grabbed my bag and the folder and left the flat. I didn’t wait for the lift. I hurried down the stairs in my high-heeled shoes.
It was already nearly eight and the board meeting started at nine-thirty. I hailed a cab on Baker Street. We got caught up in the usual rush-hour congestion and by now I was feeling quite panicky and light-headed. I knew I had to calm myself down somehow. I remembered that I had an earlier draft of my notes on my computer. It lacked the polish I had given it and the analysis of our readers, which was the key part of my presentation. Finally we reached the office. I unlocked my room and switched on my computer. I printed off the earlier version and for the next forty minutes I tried to remember the detail that Aisha had gathered for me so painstakingly. I remembered some of it. It was not the comprehensive survey I had been planning to present.
Philip, clad in a smart suit, put his head round my door at twenty past nine.
‘You ready? Some of the board members have arrived. Come and join us for coffee.’
I stood up. Should I tell him? No, he would think I was flaky. I followed him out of my room, clutching my draft notes and feeling as if I was being led to my execution. Just before I went into the boardroom I saw Heja and Stephanie at their desks. Heja was looking coolly immaculate, as ever, and was turning on her terminal. Stephanie mouthed, ‘Good luck,’ in my direction. Philip closed the door behind us.
It was dreadful. I tried to excite the board members about the wonderful sites we would be covering in the guide, some of the most famous buildings in Europe. I hadn’t managed to shake off the panicky feeling and I spoke too fast and breathlessly. I know I was not convincing. I must have given the impression that I was unsure about the project. One kind board member, a woman in her sixties, nodded encouragingly at me as I struggled through my notes.
The worst bit was the question-and-answer part after my presentation had ended. I was less than assured in my answers on the figures, and it is the figures that board members always want to talk about. I told them I would send them all a detailed analysis of the demographics of our readers, their travel patterns and which companies were likely to advertise in the guide. That was what they wanted to be convinced about, that the advertising would pay for the guide. Finally Philip moved the meeting on to the next item and I was allowed to leave the room.
I came out of the boardroom and headed for my office. Most of the desks were empty, thankfully, though Heja was sitting there and she glanced over at me with her usual inscrutable expression. I nodded at her and could say nothing. I walked back to my room feeling very low and full of self-doubt. The temp from the agency was sitting at Aisha’s desk. I asked her if she would mind getting me a coffee and a croissant. I remembered I hadn’t eaten anything all morning and my head was starting to pound. I gave her some cash and then sat at my desk, took off my high-heeled shoes and pulled Aisha’s folder over to me.
I wanted to go home very much and lick my wounds. I knew that Philip would come and find me as soon as the board meeting was over. I opened the folder and found Aisha’s handover notes under the expense claims. And there, at the very top of her notes, she had written her username and the password to her computer. If only I had kept my head I could have got into her system and printed out the presentation we had worked on so carefully, the version that had all the figures I needed.
At lunchtime, after the board members had left the building, Philip came to my office. I had been expecting him with a feeling of rising apprehension. He came in and shut the door behind him and I stood up. There was no preamble. He launched straight in.
‘That was not up to your usual high standard.’
‘I know. I’m sorry, Philip.’
‘I mean it’s all very well offering to send an analysis of our readers, today was your opportunity to give them that analysis. That’s what I was expecting and I thought I’d made that clear to you.’
‘You had. I’m sorry.’
‘Is everything all right with you?’
He gave me one of his penetrating looks. He was doubting me; doubting my ability to b
e a top editor with a baby at home. Should I explain about the lost notes?
‘I’m still adjusting and still a bit tired.’
‘I’m a bit concerned about your performance, Kathy,’ he said. I felt sick. I had always excelled at my work.
‘You’re still on probation, you know,’ he said. ‘This role comes with a six-month probation period.’
I lifted my head and made myself look straight into his eyes.
‘I understand. I’ll prepare a really detailed analysis for the board. You’ll have it by the end of the day.’
‘OK.’
He walked out.
His criticisms were fair, although they made me feel wretched. I have lost some of my clarity since Billy was born and the old Kathy would never have lost her notes or fluffed her presentation. I went to the Ladies, locked myself in a cubicle and allowed myself to cry for five minutes. Then I spent the next three hours trying to put things right. I used Aisha’s password and got into her system. I wrote a concise and persuasive explanation to accompany the table of figures we had produced. I printed it out and handed it to Philip just as he was leaving the building at six.
Heja
JUNE
Kathy is unsure about her role as editor. And it does not take much to destabilize her. I saw her as she came out from the board meeting. She did not say a word and she looked devastated. She can never hide her emotions. Her face is an open book. It was wonderful to see her looking so brought down.
It had been so easy to go into her office while she was in the Ladies and take her notes. Aisha had left for the night. The folder was lying there on her desk. It was a matter of moments to flick the folder open and grab the notes. I put them in my desk drawer. Then I tapped on Philip’s door and said could I have a quick word. He invited me in with alacrity and offered me a drink, which I accepted. He keeps a bottle of whisky in his office. I dislike whisky and toyed with the glass. He didn’t notice because he was sitting back and talking about the magazine. I knew it would unnerve her seeing me sitting in there with him. She would wonder what we were talking about.
The Lie of You: I Will Have What Is Mine Page 7