An Ideal Wife (15 page)

I cleared my throat. “No, of course not,” I lied. “I was just saying that there’s no need for her to stay if … you know, if she’s got other people to look after.”

“To be honest, my shift ended an hour ago.” Emily shrugged. “But Max here looked so lonely I thought I’d stay.”

“You’re not even working at the moment?”

“Going beyond the call of duty is what she’s doing,” Max said, shaking his head in admiration. “And people moan about the NHS. Incredible, isn’t it?”

“Incredible,” I agreed. Max opened his mouth to say something, then appeared to change his mind. His eyes started to close and I wanted to lean over and kiss him, but I couldn’t. Not with her in the room. Not when I was perching so awkwardly on the bed. “Emily,” I asked instead, “do you have a boyfriend? A husband?”

She rolled her eyes. “With this job? Not likely, the hours I work. Haven’t got time to meet men.”

“What a shame,” I said.

“Travesty,” Max said, his eyes opening again. “Jess works long hours, too. That’s how we met. At work.”

“Is it?” Emily asked interestedly. “That’s nice.”

“Very nice,” agreed Max. “Jess is very, very nice.”

I blushed happily. “Well, I’m sure you’ll meet someone eventually,” I said to Emily, feeling a sudden surge of warmth toward her. If she was looking after him, who was I to complain? After all, I wanted him to be happy. That’s all that mattered.

“I hope so,” Emily said dreamily. “So what work do you do?”

“We’re in advertising,” I said. “Max is the chief executive of an advertising agency, and I’m an account director.”

“Sounds very glamorous,” Emily said.

I shrugged. “It can be. Most of the time it’s just work, though. Like any job.”

Emily nodded. “That’s what I love about my job,” she said. “It’s so fulfilling.”

“So’s advertising,” I said quickly. “You know, devising a campaign that really fits with a company’s strategy, that moves their brand forward.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. I’m not into strategy myself, only into looking after people. The managers here talk about strategy, but what they mean is cutting costs, spending all the money on audits instead of care. Crazy, isn’t it?”

Max’s eyes opened wide. “Audit,” he said, looking at me. “Tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “Today,” I said with an uncomfortable smile.

“No, tomorrow,” Max said.

“He turned up early. Said he likes to surprise people.”

Max frowned. “Really? That’s not very friendly.”

“Not really,” I agreed. His brow creased; he looked as if he was having trouble formulating a complex sentence. “Don’t worry, Max. It was fine. It’s going to be fine. It’s all under control,” I said quickly.

A look of relief crossed his face. “So grateful, Jess,” he said, his eyes closing again. “Depending on you. Can’t screw up. Can’t.”

“We won’t,” I said gently.

“Have to pass,” Max said dreamily, then started to snore.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” I said, looking at my watch. It was 9:00
P.M.;
visitors’ hours had just ended.

“Guess so,” Emily said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, will we?”

“Of course,” I said, trying not to be bothered by her use of the word “we.” And by the fact that she was still here in Max’s room.

“I’ll let him know.” Emily smiled. “Bye, Jessica.”

“Bye, Emily,” I said, then took one last look at my sleeping Max before leaving the room.

I didn’t feel like going home—not right away. All that waited at home for me was yet another microwave meal and a big empty bed that didn’t have Max in it. Instead, I found myself stopping by RES. I might not be the perfect wife, I decided—not yet, at least—but I could at least try to be a good Samaritan.

The place was buzzing when I got there. If it had seemed on the small side the day before, tonight it seemed tiny. People were everywhere—sitting down, shuffling around, spooning food into hungry-looking mouths.

I saw Christina standing by the entrance to the kitchen and waved; she shot me a big smile.

“Hi!” I said, as I made my way toward her. “Busy tonight?”

“Every night,” she said. “This is our busiest time—people wanting to sleep here, others looking for a hot meal before they brave the streets again. Come to hear some stories, have you?”

I smiled. “Absolutely.” Then I looked at her seriously. “The truth is, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, Bernard, be careful with that, will you? It’s very hot. Sorry, Jess, what were you saying?”

I cleared my throat. “I was thinking that I could help you. More than just being a companion, I mean. I get that you’re not interested in a strategic alliance with any financial institutions or anything that might require press attention. But how about I try to work up some kind of official agreement with a major supermarket? They would probably be happy to supply you with food if we can sell it to them as a corporate-responsibility initiative. They love putting that kind of stuff in their annual reports, and you could get all the vegetables you need. What do you think?”

Christina didn’t say anything for a moment, then she smiled at me. “You know,” she said, “being a companion is really important.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said quickly. “I mean, obviously it’s a very significant role. And it’s not that I don’t want to do it. I do. Definitely. I just want to, you know, add some real value. And this is what I’m good at. I could set up a meeting and we could see what comes out of it and—”

“Thanks, Jess,” Christina said, putting her hand on mine. “I appreciate it, truly. But the thing is, I don’t think we’re interested in being some supermarket’s corporate-responsibility initiative, you know? We have to think long term. We have to protect the people here.”

“But they’d be protected; they’d just have more vegetables!” I said enthusiastically. “I could put in a call—”

“Bernard! I told you that was hot …” Christina’s face fell as Bernard, an old stooped man, spilled coffee on his hand; she rushed to help him. “Thanks, Jess. But, honestly, where you can add value is in being a companion. If that’s okay? Now, Bernard, we need to get your hand under a cold tap. You have to be careful, do you hear me? Your arthritis isn’t getting better, and you can’t go picking up hot cups of coffee like that …”

“Sure. That’s fine,” I said, my shoulders slumping slightly. “No problem at all.”

I wandered into the living room and sat down on a chair. No one even looked at me; they certainly didn’t try to talk to me. I felt very heavy all of a sudden. I wasn’t looking after Max properly and I’d totally screwed up the audit at work. Now I couldn’t even be a good companion—and that wasn’t a proper volunteer job, anyway; it was just a consolation prize to make me feel better about the fact that I couldn’t cook or put up shelves. I sighed. Maybe I should go home after all, I thought. Maybe the best place for me was my big, empty bed.

I yawned and stood up.

“You look tired.”

I frowned. I hadn’t noticed the man sitting two seats away from me—he was slight, with a full head of dark hair and a scrawny face that looked as if it had over-ripened in the sun.

“I am,” I said with a little smile. “I think I’m going to be off now.”

“You can … you can have my bed if you want,” he said. “I’ve got one tonight. You don’t want to be out on the streets, a nice girl like you.”

I reddened awkwardly. “The streets? Me? Oh no. I’m not … I’m helping out here. I … I have a home.”

“Oh,” the man said, looking embarrassed. “Right. Well, that’s good, then. That’s really good.” He looked down at the ground studiously.

“It is good, yes,” I said, biting my lip. “You … enjoy your bed, okay? And thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah,” the man said, not meeting my eyes. I slowly made my way out of the center. It
was
good, I thought, chastened. And it wasn’t a bad idea to remember that sometimes.

THE NEXT MORNING I arrived at work to find Eric waiting for me with a long list in his hand.

“It’s a checklist,” he said, handing it to me. “A checklist of all the information I need.”

“Right,” I replied uncertainly. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet; I wasn’t ready to review a checklist. “Well, I’ll just take a look at it, shall I, and get back to you?”

Looking slightly disappointed that I wasn’t reviewing it then and there, Eric shrugged. “I’ll need all that information by close of business today,” he said, hovering over me. “So don’t delay too long.”

I took a deep breath and walked to my desk. The problem with Eric Sandler, I’d already decided, was that he was a lurker. And I hated lurking. I couldn’t bear the way he skulked around the place, listening in on conversations, lying in wait like a panther—or like a weasel pretending to be a panther, since there was absolutely nothing panther-like about him. It was as if he was determined to find something untoward that someone, somewhere, was doing. And when I say someone, I really mean me. Call me paranoid, but every time I looked up, he was there. He always had a cast-iron excuse—liaising with Caroline over the interview schedule, checking his database against the one on Caroline’s
system, asking her how the coffee machine worked, when it was obvious that you just pressed the button that said
Coffee
. But those eyes of his—furtive and gloating, all at once, which you’d think was impossible but, believe me, isn’t—were always staring beadily at me, his ears pricked up to listen in on my telephone conversations and to watch my every move.

Sitting down, I took a gulp of coffee and did a quick survey of the list. As I read, I found myself getting hotter and hotter. He needed health and safety records going back five years, accounts to demonstrate positive cash flow, policies on everything from charitable giving to staff counseling, evidence of involvement in the local community, evidence that our campaigns did not exploit anyone, and evidence that all our clients were assessed ethically before we agreed to work for them.

It was insane. I got up and half-ran to Eric’s office. “This list,” I said.

He smiled; evidently he’d been expecting me. “Yes?”

“We don’t have half this stuff. I mean, we do a lot of it—like, this year we sponsored the local street fair, and Max always encourages charitable giving via the payroll, and we don’t work for any tobacco companies or anything. But we just do that stuff; we don’t have policies on it. And Max has all the health and safety stuff, but he’s in the hospital. Can I talk you through everything instead?”

“Talk me through it?” There was a little smile on his lips; I realized Eric was enjoying this.

“Or maybe if I had a bit more time we could pull some of this stuff together?”

Eric shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Our client, Chester Rydall, has set the timeline. I can’t alter it.”

“So you really need all this by … by the end of today?” I asked incredulously.

“Close of business, that’s right,” Eric said. “Is there anything else?”

I took a deep breath. Was there anything else? You betcha. But I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. I’d promised Max the audit would go without a hitch, and telling Eric that he was the most horrible man I’d ever met wasn’t going to help achieve that objective. “No,” I said tightly. “That’s all.”

I wandered back to my desk, miserable. There was no way we’d be able to meet Eric’s deadline. I picked up the phone. Maybe Max had some policies kicking around that I didn’t know about—maybe he’d prepared for this stuff without me knowing. I dialed his number, and after a couple of rings he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, darling. How are you?”

“Jess! Hi! I’m watching
Heir Hunters
. These people track down beneficiaries of wills. It’s a fascinating world. Grubby but fascinating. You should put it on.”

“I’d love to,” I said, trying not to sound as stressed as I felt. “Maybe later. I’m calling about work, actually. About the audit. I just wondered—”

“The audit? It’s going okay, isn’t it? There aren’t any problems?” Max cut in urgently.

I bit my lip. “No. No problems,” I said quickly. “Listen, are there any policies I don’t know about on things like charitable giving, community alliances, that sort of thing?”

There was a pause. “No, we don’t have any policies. But we got involved in the fair. Tell him about that. We promoted it for free and manned a stand and—”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “I only wondered if there was any paperwork. You know what these guys are like. If it isn’t written down, it doesn’t exist.”

There was a pause, then Max said, “I need to come in, don’t I? I knew it. Look, I’m feeling much better. I’ll just—owwwwwww.”

Apparently Max was trying to move. “Max? No. Stop it. Don’t move. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Bugger, that hurt,” Max grunted. “Look, I’ll ask the doctors to help me.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I said crossly. “Max, don’t be so silly. We don’t need policies; I wanted to check if there was anything extra I could give the auditor, that’s all. Everything’s completely under control.”

“It is?” Max asked dubiously. “But you said he wanted everything written down.”