'Tea ready yet?'
She pointed to his mug on the work surface.
'Smoking again? Thought you'd given it up.'
'I've had a bad day.'
He grunted, not unsympathetically. 'Yeah. I saw you on the telly this morning. Boss mad at you?'
'You could say that.'
He looked at her closely. 'Did he give you the sack?'
'I don't know yet.' She stubbed her cigarette and told him about being suspended.
'Well, I told you, didn't I? You should've screwed him for a better job while you had the chance.'
'Yes, Craig, you did tell me that.' She flipped open the pack, took another cigarette and lit it.
'So what're you gonna do?'
As he flapped theatrically at her cigarette smoke, all the frustrations welled up from deep inside her in a livid red pulse that roared in her ears.
'I'll tell you what I'm going to do for starters, Craig.' Her voice, she realised, was shaking, as was her whole body. 'I'm throwing you out, as of now.'
He grinned uncertainly. 'Yeah, all right…'
'I mean it, Craig. I'm telling you to leave my house.'
He looked at her, realised, she was serious. 'You can't do that.'
'I can, Craig, and I am. You've got – '
'OK,' he interrupted. 'I'm sorry about what I said about your fags. I apologise, OK?'
She shook her head. 'Sorry, Craig, but no. I don't want you in my house any more.'
'I said I'm sorry,' he shouted. 'What more d'you want?'
'Nothing. Just you out of my house.'
There was a long silence, or at least it seemed long to Jessie, then he took a breath and shrugged. 'OK, I'll clear out tomorrow.'
'No, Craig – tonight. It's not as if you haven't got anywhere to go – '
Without warning, he jumped forward and pushed her so that she and her chair fell backwards on to the floor, banging her head. 'Stuck-up bitch,' he shouted. 'Think you can treat people like shit 'cos – ' He took two rapid strides, stood over her, raised his foot and she thought, He's going to kill me… 'Just 'cos you think you're God's fucken gift…' Spittle flecked down on to her face.
'I'm glad they've sacked you, I'm really glad, I hope they give you fuck all, nothin'.' Now he spat deliberately, and as a gob of it hit her eye she realised he wasn't going to kill her after all. She twisted round, got to her feet and faced him. There was a faint look of surprise on his face, whether at her or himself she didn't know. She found a handkerchief and wiped her eye.
'I'm going out, for an hour. When I come back, I want you gone.'
'An' if I don't?'
'Then I call the police.'
He looked back at her with impotent hatred. 'An hour isn't long enough.'
'Two then. You haven't got that much stuff here.'
Another look came over him and she said, 'I've still got some of your money in my account, remember? So I wouldn't trash the place if I were you.'
She saw that she'd read him correctly, picked up her bag from the table and walked out. She heard him spitting again, but whether it hit her or not she didn't know.
'An' good fucken riddance,' floated after her as she pulled the door shut.
She felt her legs shaking as she walked to her car, unlocked it and climbed in. She knew reaction would hit her any minute, but she had to get away.
A horn blasted, brakes screamed as she pulled out.
'Watch where you're goin', stupid cow,' a voice shouted, female.
She raised a hand in apology, waited until the car had gone, then very cautiously started off again. She knew she shouldn't be driving, that she'd have to stop soon, that she'd left her fags on the kitchen table…
Singh's shop, just ahead. She looked very carefully into her mirror, signalled and pulled into the parking area.
Can't cry yet. She wiped her eyes with a tissue, looked in the mirror and patted down her hair, then got out and walked into the shop.
Old Singh was sitting at the end of the aisle with his grey beard and turban, as usual. He gave her a gap-toothed grin and waved, also as usual. She walked up to the counter and asked for some cigarettes. Young Singh looked at her a little strangely as she paid for them.
'You all right, miss?'
'I'm fine, thanks.'
As she turned to go, another voice said, 'Jessie?'
She turned to see Verity, holding a bottle of wine. 'Are you all right, Jessie?'
'Not really, no.'
'Hang on while I pay for this…'
Young Singh said quietly, 'Good thing you were here, I think, miss,' as he gave her the change.
Jessie burst into tears the moment they were outside.
Chapter Eight
Verity helped her into her car, a newish BMW, then climbed in herself.
'I'm s-sorry,' Jessie managed.
'It doesn't matter.' Verity put her arms round her, waited until the worst gusts had passed, then said, 'What's happened, Jessie? Is it work?'
'N-no…' In hesitant sentences, she told her about Craig.
'And now you're afraid to go back? I'll come with you.'
Jessie sniffed. 'It isn't that, I don't want to go back yet anyway. It's just everything…'
'Sure. You'd better come home with me for a bit. Can you drive, d'you think?'
Jessie nodded. 'I'm OK now. But I don't want to put you to any bother.'
'It's no bother.' She hesitated. 'If you can drive, I suggest we go now – I'm fed up with all these people staring.'
Jessie nodded again, vigorously, and a minute later, followed the BMW out. Verity's home was a little under a mile away, a smallish detached house that wasn't quite a cottage, set in its own grounds. It was older than the surrounding property, Edwardian, Jessie thought, just the sort of individual place she'd have expected Verity to own.
'Your car's fine there,' Verity called, producing keys from her bag.
Jessie followed her in, carefully wiping her feet on the mat. The ornately tiled hallway shone and the whole place smelt of polish.
'Let me have your coat.' Verity took it, hung it on a peg. 'Come and sit down.' She led the way into a light, airy sitting-room, delicately furnished. Two large, rather nondescript plants grew in pots either side of the french window. Jessie sank into the sofa.
'What would you like – whisky, gin, vodka?'
'Vodka, please.'
'Tonic?'
'Please.'
'I'll join you.' She poured the drinks and brought them over. 'Feeling any better?'
'A bit, thanks. This should help.' She took a mouthful.
'I meant what I said earlier, I'll come back with you if you like.'
'That's sweet of you, Verity, but I'll know if he's still there by whether his van's there.' She took some more drink. 'I suppose it's the mess I'm worried about.'
'Has he ever been violent before?'
Jessie shook her head. 'But then again, I've never chucked him out before.'
Verity grinned and after a moment, Jessie smiled back.
'I'll tell you what,' Verity said, 'I was going to make a risotto this evening – I'll do that now and we'll decide how to handle things afterwards.'
'No, Verity, I feel bad enough as it is – '
'Good, that's settled then. You stay here and finish your drink while I get on with it.'
'Thanks…'
'My pleasure.' She finished her own drink and stood up. 'Help yourself to another if you want.'
'Can I give you a hand?'
'No thanks, probably quicker on my own.'
Jessie noticed an ashtray on the occasional table. 'I wouldn't normally even ask, but would you mind if I smoked?'
'Sure – that's what the ashtray's for.'
'I'd actually managed to give up, you know, but these last few days…'
'Sure. I'll go and cook.' With another smile, Verity left her.
On an empty stomach, the drink had already gone to her head, giving her a not unpleasant sense of surreality. Better
not overdo it, though… She stripped the cellophane from the pack and lit up. Her fingers were still trembling and she wondered what she'd have done if she hadn't run into Verity. She looked round the room. The pictures on the walls seemed to be originals and the glass cabinet was certainly antique. The bookshelves were filled and she'd have normally got up for a look, but felt too lazy.
She stubbed her cigarette. Strange how Verity was so open and helpful at work and yet so private – she'd not heard of anyone else being invited to her house…
What the hell was she going to do about going back to her own home? Better take up her offer, I suppose.
And if he was still there, go to the police… Thinking about him made her shudder and she picked up her drink and finished it. She resisted the temptation to pour herself another and lit up again instead.
Would he really have hurt me, killed me? She didn't think so. When it came down to it, all he'd done was to push her over and spit at her… although, God knows, that was enough.
Verity appeared. 'It's ready. Come on through.'
She followed her into the kitchen. Verity took off the apron she'd been wearing and hung it up – she really did have the most magnificent figure, Jessie thought.
'Over there. Jessie.'
The table and chairs were dark against the pastel yellow walls. Risotto steamed gently on plates.
'Wine?'
'Please.'
Verity took the bottle from the cooler and poured. It was Chardonnay.
'And this is why you went to Singh's?'
'Yes.' She looked up. 'Just as well I did, isn't it? D'you not have family in Tamar, Jessie?'
'They're all down in Truro. I'm the only one who's gone to foreign parts.'
Verity smiled. 'Let's eat.'
Jessie hadn't thought she'd be able to eat much, but once she started, realised she'd never tasted so delicious a risotto in her life. She said so.
'It's the herbs I use,' Verity said. With hardly a pause, she continued: 'I saw you on TV this morning. I thought you did very well.'
'It seems like weeks ago… and I don't think I did well at all. It was a mistake to bring in his son-in-law.'
'I thought it was inspired – it brought out his nastier side and made him look as guilty as hell. Is it true?'
'Yes, but I can't tell you how I know.'
Verity smiled again and shrugged. Jessie continued: 'I felt I had to do something – he'd been in control up till then. He seemed to know everything I was going to say, he even knew about our meeting and twisted it round.'
'D'you think he really did know what you were going to say, then?'
Jessie told her how she'd left her file on her desk the day before and what Medlar had told her earlier about Goring having a spy.
Verity thoughtfully drank some wine, refilled their glasses. 'If it wasn't for George confirming it, I'd have found it hard to believe.'
'Dommo said I was being paranoid.'
Verity gave a small, but unladylike snort. 'Well, there's one gentleman I wouldn't trust.'
Jessie grinned at her. 'I know you don't like him, but I've always found him trustworthy.'
Verity hesitated, then shrugged again. 'You must speak as you find.'
'Has he ever let you down?' Jessie asked, curious.
'I can't say that he has,' she said slowly, 'it's just that he's so damn pleased with himself all the time, so smug…' She grinned back at Jessie. 'I know, I shouldn't let that influence me.' She took another mouthful of wine.
'The worst thing,' Jessie said, 'is knowing that Goring's actually searching for evidence to sack me – it's like having a price put on your head.'
'Are there any skid marks for him to find?'
Jessie shook her head. 'Not that I know of.'
Verity said slowly, 'Then maybe I should find one for him…'
'What d'you –?'
'I mean a false one. Get him to accuse you of something utterly ridiculous. He'd make the most awful fool of himself, which might get you off the hook.'
'It's a lovely idea, Verity, but I can't imagine what.'
'Let me think about it…'
After they'd finished everything, they returned to the sitting-room.
'Brandy?' Verity was over by the sideboard.
'Better not, not if I'm going to be driving home.'
'You could always stay here tonight – in fact, I think it would be better if you did.' She had taken a small wooden box from a drawer and now brought it back with her drink. 'Still worried he's smashed the place up?'
'I suppose I am…' She took a cigarette from her pack.
‘Well,’ Verity said, 'better that than you.'
'I suppose so.'
There was a pause, then Verity said suddenly, 'I can understand you having a fling with him, Jessie, but what on earth made you take him into your house? You don't have to answer that…'
'A combination of libido and bravado, I suppose,' Jessie said slowly. 'What are you doing?'
'Rolling a stogie.'
'I didn't know you smoked.'
'I do sometimes, here at home.'
Although Verity didn't press her, Jessie felt that she had to go on talking, to relieve the pressure inside her. 'You know I was married before I came to the centre?'
'Yes.' Verity lit the rolled cigarette with a small, gold lighter.
'Well, it was a bad marriage, a mistake. It completely undermined me. I suppose, with Craig, I wanted to show that I'm my own person now.'
'Show whom?'
'Everybody. Myself mostly, I suppose.' She turned. 'Is that what I think it is?'
'I expect so. Like some?'
'Not just now, thanks.' She looked round at the potted plants – the tiny elliptical leaves were obvious now that she could smell the bittersweet smoke.
'I use the dried leaves,' Verity said. 'How long were you married?'
'Three years, although it seemed a lot longer.'
'No children?'
'Only my husband – there wasn't room for any more.'
Verity smiled. 'You'd have liked children?'
'Ye-es…' She drew the word out as the use of the past tense hit her.
'He was an emotional parasite,' Verity said.
It was a statement, not a question, Jessie noticed, and nor was it the platitude she'd half expected about there being plenty of time. She said, 'Yes, he was, and I didn't realise it for… oh, years… I think I will have one after all, Verity.'
'What was his job?' Verity asked as she teased a line of tobacco along the paper and mixed in the dried leaves.
'Lab manager, like I am – was, that is.' She smiled wryly. 'He was my boss.' She took the proffered reefer, lit it. 'Everyone thought he was so wonderful, that I was so lucky,' She inhaled a lungful of the bittersweetness.
'How did he undermine you?'
'Oh, socially, professionally, even domestically…'
'Sexually?'
'Yes, that most of all.'
'In what way?'
She took another thoughtful drag of the reefer. 'He destroyed the pleasure of sex for me,' she said at last.
'How?'
'I'm not sure… he blamed me when it wasn't good, said I wasn't trying, and I didn't realise for ages that it was him, not me.' Another lungful. 'The thing is, he looked so sexy, all the girls in the lab doted on him and he had this way of flirting with them that had them all drooling in their knickers – sorry, sorry – I'm going on too much.'
'No, you're not,' Verity said urgently. 'Someone should have listened to you years ago.'
'When we were engaged, it was so good, the sex that is, but after we were married… it just wasn't the same… it was as though he wasn't really there.'
'Could it have been you who wasn't there, Jessie?'
'Me?'
'Please, I'm not taking his side… what I'm getting at is that maybe before you were married, you had an image, an ideal of him and that afterwards he just didn't come up to it. As a person, that is.'
&n
bsp; 'But it was so good before we were married…'
'Because you loved the ideal you had of him. That's what made the sex good.'
'You're saying it's all in the mind?'
'Well, isn't it?'
'I – I don't know…' She stubbed out the reefer. Verity handed her another and she lit it without thinking. 'You know, when I got this job,' she said, going off tangentially, 'it was the best thing that ever happened to me.' She drew deeply on the fresh reefer.
'After I left him, I found a senior job, up in Bristol. They wanted me for it, told me there was a Three post coming up, more or less told me it was mine. But then, when it did come up,' she said slowly, 'they brought in someone else.'
'Did they ever tell you why?'
Jessie shook her head. 'Not really. They said he just pipped me at the post – what a vapid expression that is!' She sighed. 'There was nothing in writing, so there was nothing I could do about it.'
'Could your husband have had anything to do with it?' Verity asked after a pause. 'You did say he was a lab manager… he'd have been pretty influential.'
Jessie swallowed. 'I've tried not to think about that… I didn't want to believe anyone could be that spiteful.'
'But you left him, Jessie. Capital offence.'
'Anyway,' Jessie hurried on, not wanting to think about it now, either, 'after that, I applied for pretty well every job going.' She gave a tiny laugh, a snicker. 'I couldn't believe it when I got this one.'
'Neither could I.'
'Oh thanks, Verity!'
'No, listen… I was expecting some po-faced stiff to get it, Paul being the worst possible case. I was over the moon when it was you, but I was surprised.' She paused. 'Why d'you think you did get it?'
'I dunno.' She inhaled another lungful. 'I s'pose it was because George and I just clicked. He showed me round the centre before I applied and asked me what I'd do if I got it. I had nothing to lose so I told him. Then I realised from his expression that I'd said all the right things, that I really was in with a chance.' She smiled at the memory. 'I know I shouldn't say this, but it was wonderful, the best feeling in the world when they told me it was mine.'
'Why shouldn't you say –?'
'To be able to wave two fingers at those bastards, to tell them exactly what I thought of them.'
Chilling Out Page 6