Alberta Clipper (13 page)

Christine clenched her teeth
.  Of course she had been there at the weekend.  She went there every weekend.  “Yeah.  I popped over, eh, Saturday I think.”  Mark was pacing the floor some distance from her, his phone to his ear, talking animatedly and gesticulating with his right hand.  She sank
further
down into her chair.

“Right.”  Her father spoke gently. 

She really didn't want to hear this.  Not right now. 

“Christine, are you okay?”

“Yes Dad,” she hissed.  Immediately she felt sorry for snapping.  She closed her eyes.  “Dad, I'm fine.”  When she opened them again, Mark was sitting quietly back down on the chair opposite her.  “Dad, I have to go.”

“Okay.  Sure.” 

She knew he'd have to call him later and reassure him, but she couldn't get into it now.  “I'm back tomorrow.  I'll talk to you then.  Okay?”

“Okay.  Enjoy your evening anyway.  Happy
birthday,
lovie.  I popped something in the post for you.  Sure you'll get it when you get back.” 

Christine looked at Mark who
seemed to be
trying not to eavesdrop.  “You shouldn't have Dad.  Thanks though.  I'll talk to you tomorrow.”  She pressed the end call button and took a deep breath.  Before she had a chance to put her phone back in her bag, it rang again. 

“My, but we're very popular this evening.”  Mark raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well actually,” Christine glanced at the phone to see Emily's name illuminated.  She diverted the call and the ringing stopped.  “Actually, it's my birthday.  Hence the phone calls.”

Mark looked a little shocked.  “It's your birthday, and you're spending it in a hotel bar with your boss?  Oh God.  I'm so sorry.”

She shook her head.  “It's fine!  Better than my original plan of a bath and room service.  And infinitely better than a second night on the town with my lovely analyst colleagues.” 

Mark just sat there with a strange look on his face.  Christine felt a little
uncomfortable under his gaze.
  “I'm serious, Mark.  It's fine.  Let's just get another one of these.”  She lifted her empty glass.  He turned and caught the attention of the only waitress in the place.

“Can you put these on my room?  304.” 

“Certainly sir.  Just give me one second.”  The waitress went over to the bar. 

Mark stood up.  “Come on.  We're leaving.”

“We are?”  Christine was genuinely puzzled, but she stood anyway and lifted the strap of her bag over her shoulder.  “Where are we going?”

“You're not spending your twenty-”

“Ninth.”  Christine looked glum.

“Twenty-ninth birthday in,” he paused to sign the receipt held out to him by the waitress.  With a toothy smile she turned and walked back to the counter.  He lowered his voice to a whisper, “the Berry Bar.  Come on.” 
But then h
e
suddenly
stopped and looked at her feet.  “Okay to walk a few blocks?”

“Sure.”

“Then let's go.”

~

Mark's stomach felt like it was edging its way up his oesophagus and towards his throat.  He could hear himself jabbering on about something completely inane to do with the bank, but his mind was having a whole other conversation with itself.  What was he doing?  He was walking a very fine line here, and he could easily fall off it and into a harassment charge.  He knew where he wanted to bring her, he had decided it in a split second after she had told him it was her birthday, but now, as they walked along Curzon Street in the evening sun, he started to worry about what she might be thinking.  He observed her as she walked.  She seemed to be okay.  She was chatting away, looking around her, seemingly enjoying the London summer evening.  As he looked at the people walking past them, he guessed that they would appear to them like any ordinary couple walking along.  Just not holding hands.  A first date, maybe.  After a few moments of silence, she looked at him questioningly.

Mark had the sensation of being slightly hypnotised, her eyes were so blue. 
“Just up here.”

As the Dorchester came into view, Christine turned to him with a smile.  “Here?”

“That okay?”
He searched her face for some sign that it was okay.
  “More appropriate f
or a birthday drink, no?
”
  He tried to sound breezy.

Christine laughed, and Mark couldn't tell if she was happy about how the evening was turning out, or if it would be a source of water-cooler chat back at the office.  But he knew she was classier than that.  He hoped.

“I've never been here.  I've always wanted to come.”  She looked genuinely impressed.  “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem.”  Mark hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt.  “I was here a couple of years ago.  It's nice.”  Although, he couldn't remember much about that weekend now.  It had been a supposedly romantic city break with Jennifer.  She hadn't really liked the Dorchester when they had come in for dinner.  She had said it was too fussy.  Mark had liked it.  The staff had been very pleasant, and they had spotted a few American movie actors in the foyer.  He had wanted to come back and stay ever since, but the occasion had never presented itself.  “Maybe we can get something to eat?  They might even have a candle for you to blow out.”  They entered through the grand doors. 

“We can sit and play spot-the-celebrity if nothing else,” he said quietly to her as they were guided by a smiling hostess into the bar.

~

It was almost eleven the next time Christine
look
ed
at
her watch.  She couldn't believe it.  They had been at the bar talking, drinking red wine, eating olives and other tiny little savoury treats they couldn't decipher, for over two hours.  As she checked her face in the ladies
’
room mirror,
it struck her how
it had been one of the better birthdays of the past few years.  Mark had surprised her.  Big time
. 
It was hard to believe that the interesting, relaxed guy in the bar was the same
broody,
unsmiling man she worked for. 
Nina
had always raved about what a
great
guy he was, but Christine had never really understood why.  He had until this evening just been her, somewhat difficult, boss. 
But
she could see that he clearly loved CarltonWachs.  They had talked about the place for most of the evening.  The whole mess with Craig and Mick had genuinely upset him, although they hadn't gone into the detail of it.  It
was
also
obvious that he cared a lot for
Nina
and
Shay
,
and Christine respected that
. 
He had told her how himself and
Shay
had worked for the same small Irish bank
in
their early twenties, and had both remained on when the business had been bought by
the Chicago-
based
Carl
tonWachs
. 
They had been f
riends and colleagues for over fifteen years
. 

Christine couldn't imagine staying with one firm that long. 
As she patted her slightly shiny nose with a small sponge, she tried to imagine herself, forty-something, still working on the fourth floor in Clarendon Square.  She
stood still
with the sponge on her nose, s
truggling
with the
visualisation
.  Surprisingly, the thought of working for CarltonWachs for another decade didn’t disturb her at all.  But the vision was dark and shady when she tried to imagine what sort of life she would be living outside of the office.  What sort of home she would return to each evening.  She tried to force
Gavan
into the picture but just like every other time she tried to imagine her future, Christine could see nothing.  Like staring into
the blackness of
a television that had been switched off.

The sound of a toilet being flushed behind her shook her from her reverie, and she put the powder-puff back in its case in her bag.
 
She was not going to do this. 

Not now. 

She smiled exaggeratedly at the glamorous lady who had materialised at the mirror next to her and turned to go back to the bar. 

Eleven
PM
on her
twenty-ninth
birthday
in the Dorchester powder-room
was no
t the
time nor the place
for facing reality
.

Christine couldn't concentrate.  She repeatedly looked up from her computer
,
through the glass wall of her office
and
towards the door of the meeting room to see if anyone came out.  She had a fair idea of what was going on in there, although there hadn't been much more than a few whispered comments made in the coffee room that morning.  Craig would be sitting on one side of the table opposite Mark,
Shay
and Melanie from human resources.  Like a job interview.  Which she supposed in some ways it was.   An interview for his own job.  She had seen him
arrive on the fourth floor half an hour before
. 
Shay
had met him at the reception desk and ushered him straight into the meeting room, away from his colleagues on the trading desk. 
There had been rumour that
they had already met with Mick Dolan, and that he was out.  But no one seemed to know if Craig was to suffer the same fate. 

The sound of a door being opened and multiple footsteps on the floor made her jump up from her desk
and run
to her office door.  As she stood purporting to arrange some papers in her arms, she saw Mark walk back to his office, and
Shay
accompany Craig to the lift in silence.  They didn't shake hands as Craig got in, but Christine could see
Shay
speaking quietly and Craig nodding earnestly. 

“Christine.”

Christine jumped as Petra suddenly
appeared
right in front of her. 

“I need a copy of your report for Monday's meeting.  Could you email it to me, so I can combine it with
Harry
's?  Mark wants the total presentation to run more -”

“Sorry Petra.  Back in a sec.”  She'd have to run if she was going to catch him.  With her head down, she walked straight to the fire escape and skipped down the four flights of stairs to the lobby.  She got to the lift door just as Craig was walking through, and linked arms with him, steering him abruptly into a small vacant meeting room. 

“Christine -”

“Why haven't you been answering my calls?  Or texts?  What the hell, Craig?”  She lowered her voice and sat down on a chair, suddenly deflated.  “What have you done?” 

Craig looked away
.  After
a moment
, he
sat
down
on the only other chair in the room.  His face was red, and he had bags under his usually sparkly eyes. 

Christine's anger was turning to pity.  “Are you out?” she asked quietly.

“No.”  The lack of bravado in his voice made Christine mellow even more.  “I was a total idiot.  But I'm staying.  Minus my Christmas bonus,” he looked up from under a raised eyebrow, “but I'm staying.”  They sat in silence for a moment.  “Mick's out.”

“Wow.”  It was shocking news, even if the guy deserved it.  “Craig, what were you thinking?”

“I know, I know.  I shouldn't have got involved.  I should have told him to shove it.”  He looked down at his tie and started flipping it over and back with his hand.  “But it wasn't illegal or anything.”

“It was against the rules.”

“I know, I know.”

“I thought you were smarter than that Craig.
  Smarter than Mick Dolan.  You've got a good thing going here.  Why would you rock the boat?”

“Okay, Mom, I get it.” 

He glared at her.  She took a deep breath.  They regarded each other for a moment.  “Look, I'm sorry, okay?  But I've accepted my punishment.  And I won't do it again.”

“You could have got
Shay
into a lot of trouble.”

Craig sat back in his chair.  “I know.”  He looked sincere.  But Christine wasn't totally convinced.  Craig pushed at the cuticles on his thumbnails.  “
Shay
's been great, actually.  If it weren't for him, I'd say I'd have been gone.  That bastard Mark sure as hell wanted me out.”  Christine felt a flush of indignation in her cheeks.  “He wanted
Shay
to take some of my best clients from me.  My highest earners.  Wanker.”

Christine stood up abruptly.  “You're lucky you have a job.  He could have kicked you out.  You might have found it difficult getting work
anywhere else, under the circumstances
.”