Octavia

‘At home.’

Memories came flooding back, the white house deep in the cherry orchards, Gareth beating the hell out of me, then putting me to bed, Jeremy trying to rape me.

‘But I’m coming to London tomorrow,’ she went on. ‘Could we have lunch, I’ve got something I must tell you.’

‘Nice or nasty?’ I asked.

‘Well, heaven for me, but I’m not sure. .’ her voice trailed off.

‘Tell it to me now.’

‘I can’t, I’m in such a muddle,’ she said. ‘Please, let’s meet for lunch. I’ll come and pick you up.’

‘I’ve got a very heavy day.’

‘You can slip out just for a drink. I’ll pick you up at one o’clock. And please Octavia, don’t, don’t be furious with me.’

The telephone went dead. I stood for a second, then just made the loo in time, and threw up all the Fuller’s cake. For a second I crouched, wracked by retching and sobbing. So it was true about Gareth and Lorna, it must be what she was trying to tell me. With agonizing slowness, I pulled myself together. You must finish those press releases, I said over and over again, as though it was really me that needed stapling together. I splashed water over my face and rinsed out my mouth. God, I looked terrible. My suntan had turned yellow. My eyes were red and puffy. My hair, filthy and dark mouse at the roots because I couldn’t afford to have it re-streaked, was bleached like straw at the ends. One of the secretaries poked her head round the door.

‘Parkside’s on the warpath,’ she said. ‘Some VIP’s just arrived. Can you make him a cup of coffee and take it into Jakey’s office?’

I couldn’t find my dark glasses. The wretched VIP would have to put up with reddened eyes. I knocked on Jakey’s door and walked into his office. The next moment the cup of coffee had crashed to the ground, for sitting behind the desk was Gareth. He leapt to his feet.

‘Are you OK lovely? You haven’t burnt yourself?’

‘I’m fine,’ I muttered. ‘But it’ll ruin the carpet.’

I grabbed a drying-cloth that was lying on top of the fridge and, kneeling down, started frenziedly mopping up the coffee. Anything for Gareth not to get a glimpse of my face. I hadn’t seen him for over two months; he’d have a fit to catch me looking so awful.

‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘It’ll dry in a minute.’

He put a hand under my elbow and pulled me to my feet.

‘I’ll get you another cup of coffee,’ I said, making a bolt for the door.

But he got there first, standing in front of me, shutting the door firmly. As usual his presence made the room shrink.

‘Sit down,’ he said, tipping a pile of files off a chair. ‘I want to talk to you.’

‘What are you doing here anyway?’ I said. I still hadn’t looked him in the eyes.

‘Visiting my old mate Jakey Bartholomew.’

‘You know him?’ I said sharply. ‘But I didn’t, I mean. .’

‘You should read your own company notepaper,’ said Gareth. He handed me a sheet that was lying on Jakey’s desk. Sure enough in the middle of the list of directors was printed G. Llewellyn.

‘T-then you fiddled me this job,’ I blurted out. ‘I thought I g-got it on my own. .’

‘Merits, yes of course you did,’ he said gently. ‘Jakey’d have never employed you if he hadn’t liked you.’ He held up one of the blown-up photographs of my legs.

‘I must say I like these. I’d recognize those pins anywhere.’

Everything was moving too fast for me. I was trying to work out what influence Gareth must have had over my working at Bartholomews.

‘How are you enjoying it anyway?’ he said.

‘It’s fine. How was the Middle East trip?’

‘Hell,’ said Gareth. ‘And bloody hot and exhausting. Your brother was the only redeeming feature.’

‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’

‘He overreached himself one night. He charmed one sheik so much that later the sheik insisted that only Xander should have the culinary piece de resistance at dinner.’

‘What was it?’ I said.

‘A sheep’s eyeball,’ said Gareth.

I started to giggle.

‘He’s over the moon about the baby,’ I said, trying to keep the trace of wistfulness out of my voice.

‘Yep, it’s a good thing. It’ll patch up things between him and Ricky, too.’

There was a pause. The room was suffocatingly hot. I still hadn’t looked at him. A schoolgirl embarking on her first love affair couldn’t have behaved with more gaucheness. I felt hollow with longing and misery.

‘It’s very hot isn’t it?’ I said.

‘Very,’ said Gareth.

This wasn’t getting us very far. I got to my feet, edging towards the door.

‘I must get you some coffee.’

‘I don’t want any.’

‘I–I’ve got some work I’ve got to finish.’

He followed me into the general office, passing Miss Parkside on the way out, bearing her floral sponge-bag off to the Ladies.

‘It’s going-home time,’ he said.

‘I’ve got to finish these,’ I said, picking a page off the four separate piles of paper until they shook in my hand as though they were being fluttered by an electric fan.

Gareth looked at me for a minute.

‘You’re getting them all out of order,’ he said, taking them from me, and restacking them. He shoved them between the stapler and banged it down with one hand. Nothing happened.

‘Bloody thing’s run out,’ he said. ‘Come on, you can do them in the morning. I’ll buy you a drink.’

The bar was crowded with commuters who couldn’t face the journey home yet. Gareth found me a bar stool, I curled my feet round one of the legs, trying to control the hammering in my heart. In a minute I knew I’d wake up from a dream, and be crying back in bed in Putney. He handed me a gin and tonic and shot soda into his whisky. I took a slug of my drink at once, gripping it with both hands to stop them shaking.

I glanced up at the smoked mirror behind the bar; my eyes met Gareth’s. For a second we gazed at each other with a steady fascination, as though we were two quite different people, in another world for the first time. I felt if his sleeve touched mine the whole bar would burst into flames.

I tugged my eyes away and took another gulp.

‘You’ve lost a lot of weight,’ he said.

‘Have I?’

‘Too much.’

‘It’s the heat.’

He glanced at the beige sausage rolls and curling sandwiches in the glass case.

‘D’you want something now?’

I shook my head. A fire engine clanged past the door, followed by another.

‘D’you think it’ll ever rain again?’ I said.

I noticed for the first time how tired he looked, the black rings under his eyes, almost as dark as his eyebrows.

‘Is Seaford-Brennen too much of a sweat?’ I said.

‘Well it’s not exactly a day trip to Llandudno,’ he said. ‘Jakey’s very pleased with you, by the way.’

I felt myself blushing. ‘He is?’

‘Yep, and so am I. You haven’t just turned over a new leaf, Brennen, it’s a bloody great tree.’

He looked at me reflectively for a minute.

‘Why have you been crying your eyes out all afternoon?’

I took a hasty swig of my drink, the glass was too deep and it ran all over my face.