Alberta Clipper (21 page)

“Christine.  Jennifer and I weren't right.  There was lots wrong.  Lots.  But we'd probably
have
limped along
.
”
H
e lifted his hand to portray what two people limping along together through life might look like, and she used the opportunity to grab her glass with both hands and hold it on he
r lap, out of harm's way. 
“
We’d have
j
ust kept going,
just living,
not truly happy, not really in love,” he continued, “i
f it weren't for you.”

Christine's shock was interrupted by the sight of
Shay
bursting through the door into the bar with a look of relief on his face.

“Chris
tine
,” he said quietly.  “Mark.  Buddy.  How are things here?”

Christine looked at
Shay
who silently reassured her that he could handle things from here.  Mark looked like he was about to cry.  She wasn't sure what to do.  “Thanks for the drink, Mark.”  She patted his knee.  He grabbed her hand and smiled at her with a sadness and intensity that unsettled her.  As she walked to the door, she turned to see
Shay
sitting on her stool, gesturing to the barman for a pint.  Maybe Mark would talk to him.  Christine really hoped so.

~

By half-past midnight it seemed that the entire company was dancing.  After a particularly exhausting ten minutes of attempted jiving with Craig, Christine decided her feet needed a break.  As the DJ started to slow things down, she pulled Craig by the hand off the dance-floor and they strolled out into the courtyard together.  It was a pretty space with benches and pergolas set around a small fountain, the clear sky above providing the only roof.  They sat on a bench, and Craig took two cigarillos from a box in his pocket, offering her one.

“No thanks, I'm not that drunk.”

Craig shrugged and lit his own, sitting back on the bench, throwing his arm behind Christine.  “Cold?” he asked her.  “I could get you my jacket.”

“No thanks.  I'm gratified at your chivalry, though.”

“I can be chivalrous.  I'm very chivalrous.”

“Hmm.  When you want something.”

He turned to her.  “And what do you have that I could possibly want?”

“Oh feck off Craig.  I'm not going to be your token snog for the night.”  She crossed her legs away from him. 

“Christine, you could never be just a token snog
,
”
h
e
laughed
, and pulled on the cigar.  “Anyway, I'm not looking for a snog tonight.”

“No?”

“No.”  He glanced quickly at her.  “I haven't had a meaningless snog for a couple of months now.”

“Really?”  Christine turned to him.  “And what could this imply?  Has someone charmed the charmer?  Could it be possible that – no, there's no way.  Could Craig Clarkson actually be in love?”

“Laugh all you like.”  Craig looked serious.

Christine sat up straight.  “I'm not laughing.  Talk to me.  What's going on?”

“It's nothing new, really.  Just, just Rachel.”

“Rachel?”

“Why are you so surprised?  I've been seeing her for more than a year.”

“Yeah, but.”  Christine checked herself.  “I just didn't realise it was serious.”

“You mean you thought I was only after her father's portfolio.”

“No.  Well, not really.”

“
Hmm.  Well, I'm not.  Only after her father's account.  I have plenty of accounts.  I don't need his.”

They sat in silence watching as others drifted out of the hotel and into the courtyard.  Some of them nodded over at Craig and Christine as they lit their cigarettes and festive cigars.  After a moment, Christine slapped a hand down on Craig's knee.  “Well, I'm delighted for you.  I really am.  And does Rachel feel the same?  About you?”

“I think so.  You know, she's been unbelievable these past few months.  Really, supportive.”

Christine thought about how it had been pretty difficult for Craig since the summer, since he had been reprimanded.  She admired how he had worked his way through it, uncomplaining for the most part.  He'd kept his head down, and had just got on with things.  “Craigey?”  She ruffled his hair.  “Are you getting all grown up on me?”

“Shut up.”  He removed her hand from his hair and wrapped it around his shoulders. 
Harry
stumbled past them, stopping and turning when he realised who it was. 

“Chrissy.  Craig.  Aw, you two.  You make such a beautiful couple.”  He swayed, and grabbed a climbing rose bush for support.  “A beautiful couple.”

“Cheers mate.”  Craig raised his cigarillo to him, and
Harry staggered
off.  Craig turned to Christine.  “No harm to keep them guessing.”  Christine whacked him with her free arm. 
She laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes
. 

“Ac
tually, I think I'm in love too,
”
she sighed.
Even through the vodka and wine haze she knew it was a bad idea to confide in Craig, but it felt disingenuous not to under the circumstances.

“
Gavan
?”

“
Gavan
.”

He squeezed her knee.  “And all is right in the world tonight,” he smiled, and just at that moment, a dishevelled looking Dee slipped past them and back in through the hotel doors with her head down, a red faced Freddie following behind, tucking his shirt into his trousers as he went. 

Petra knocked on Mark's door and walked in without waiting for a response.  He was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, staring at some paperwork beneath him on the table.  He looked up half-heartedly, and straight back down again when he saw her. 

“I've just a few letters for the Mason file,” she announced and walked over to the cabinets against the far wall.  Mark
glimpsed
her back as she stood sorting through the papers.  Did she never slow down?  She even filed letters like it was the most important and gratifying job in the world.  But of course, she didn't feel like he felt.  For her, Friday night had been the ultimate coup.  She was certainly deserving of the crown she seemed to have bestowed herself.

“Thanks for Friday, Petra.  You really had everything bang on.  Everyone seems to have had a great time.”

“You're welcome, Mark.  It certainly went well.  Perhaps next year you might want to re-think the free bar, but other than that it was all great.”

He sat up straighter, trying to gauge if the comment was directed at him.  But any indignation quickly passed, when he realised that he couldn't remember if he had spoken to Petra on Friday night.  He certainly remembered seeing her there, but then what?  Dear God, had he been inappropriate?  Had he leered at her or, God forbid, made a pass at her?  Mark suddenly felt sick.  He watched her derrière
rise and fall
as she moved along the filing cabinets.  Should he ask her?  Oh Lord, this was terrible.

“Those boys out there get a little difficult to handle after too many pints,” she nodded towards the dealing desk.

Relief washed through him. 
“I hope no one gave you too much trouble?”  He held his breath as she slammed the drawer shut with her hip.

“Oh nothing I couldn't handle,” she smiled.  “I'll just get you a coffee.”  And she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mark leaned back in his chair.  He could remember hardly anything about Friday night.  When he'd phoned
Shay
on Saturday to see if he could fill him in on any detail, he hadn't implied that
Mark
had done anything to worry about.  But then, he hadn't said much.  And Mark couldn't even remember getting hom
e.  He stood up and went
to the gl
ass door of his office to look
around.  Everything seemed normal.  There was no sign of groups huddled together, laughing at his expense.  But still.  He was the boss.  He should never have been in that state.  He needed to talk to
Shay
.  He looked back at the desk strewn with paperwork he just couldn't face. 

He needed to talk to
Shay
. 

Twenty minutes later, having done no work, Mark took his empty coffee cup and brought it to the coffee room.  The place was empty.  He'd hoped to find some post-party discussion on-going.  He ambled over to the reception desk where Amanda was sitting alone. 

“Hey Amanda.”

“Mark.  Can I help you with something?”

“No, no.  Just wondering how you enjoyed Friday.”  Mark could feel his heart thumping in his chest. 

“Oh, it was great.  Thanks again.  The food was good, wasn't it?  Much better than last year.  One second
Mark
.”  She held a finger up and re-directed an incoming call for
Shay
.  “Sorry
about that
.  I still think it was nicer last year when we could bring our partners.  Good morning, CarltonWachs?”

Mark allowed himself feel a little relief.  Maybe he hadn't made a fool of himself after all.

“Although, not everyone would agree with me,” Amanda smiled pointedly at Dee who had just sat down beside her without making eye contact with either of them.  “Isn't that right, Deirdre?  Mark was just asking if we enjoyed Friday.”  Amanda ignored Dee's glares.  “Dee had a great time.  And – good morning, CarltonWachs?” 

A blushing Dee smiled wordlessly at Mark as Amanda took the call. 

“At least we know our computers will be top priority from now on,”  Amanda grinned at Mark.  Dee thumped her.

“Right.”  Mark thought it better not to comment.  “Well, I'm glad you both had fun.  Any plans for the holidays?”

“I'm going ski
ing on the twenty-third.  Can't wait.  Dee will be here til Christmas Eve.  And Petra said she would cover the phones if we need her to.”

Mark nodded.  Dee sat looking shifty, like someone who should be wearing dark glasses and a hat.  As Mark took his leave, the phone rang again, and he overheard her whisper to Amanda, “It's for him.  You put it through.  Please.”

So no indication of any problems there.  Mark walked past the dealing desk on his way back to his office. 

“Hey Mark.  Thanks again for Friday.”

He turned to see one of the older dealers leaning back in his chair.  “No problem, Steve.  Glad you had fun.”

“Didn't see you on the dance-floor.  Did you have to leave early?”

Mark quickly searched Steve's face for any negative allusion, but it seemed a genuine question.  “Eh, yeah.  Was a lovely meal though.”  Mark had no idea what he had eaten.  Or if he had eaten. 

“Sure was.  Cheers again, anyway.”  Steve answered the phone which had started to buzz on his desk.  Mark gave him a quick salute, and turned to escape back to the safety of his
own
office.  B
ut b
efore he got there,
he heard Shay’s voice behind him
.

“Eh, Mark?  Got a sec?”

“Of course.” 

As
Shay
closed his door behind them, a memory of being called into his school principal's office popped into Mark's head.  He had been seen with a group of oth
er fifth year boys in the
village at lunchtime.  Some of the boys had been smoking, and they had been reported to the school by a local woman.  As it happened, Mark hadn't been smoking, but as he had refused to tell the principal who had been, he had been punished along with the rest of them.  They had been banned from attending the seniors'
rugby final.  As a sixteen-year-
old boy, it had been a greater punishment than a whole year's detention.  As he sat at
Shay
's desk, he felt the familiar sense of foreboding
somewhere in his gut.

“Sorry Mark
, I couldn't really talk when you phoned on Saturday. 
Nina
's entire family were over.  It wasn't pretty.”

“No worries.” 
The foreboding began to rise to his throat.

“It's just, I wanted to tell you what happened.  Just so you know.” 

Mark froze in his chair. 

“Now, it's nothing really bad.  Not really.”

Mark closed his eyes.  “What did I do?”

Shay
sat down in his chair on the other side of the desk, just like Principal Ball all those years ago.  “It's nothing really bad Mark.  You were just a bit hammered.  You went home quite early.” 

Mark
could hear the hesitation in
Shay
’s voice
.

“It's just, before you went home, you were chatting to Christine.”

Oh Jesus.  No.  No.  Please.