Downsizing (16 page)

Cassie’s enthusiasm for her role as a
housewife mirrored her eagerness to furnish the place. She took
pride in keeping their apartment spotlessly clean, and cooked huge
meals that even he struggled to finish. Her cooking left something
to be desired, but he was touched by her determination to look
after him and praised her efforts. Without Mrs. Turner’s continual
interference, their relationship became more congenial. He observed
his wife’s belly swelling to accommodate his growing baby and felt
fondness for the willful, beautiful, immature child he’d so
impulsively married. Were it not for the specter of Maxine, and the
guilt he felt for betraying her, he might almost have been
content.

In order to avoid further friction between
them, Noah told Cassie about the two houses he planned to bid for
at auction in January, warning her that Kitty would again be
involved in the project. The properties were sold to him at a
higher price than he’d hoped to pay because a someone bid against
him. That was the way these things sometimes went, and Noah was
philosophical about the extra cost. He had a new project to grapple
with, was bursting with renewed energy, and didn’t have time for
regrets.

* * * *

Greg was supposed to spend Christmas in
Cornwall, but told Maxine he wouldn’t be leaving Cambridge until a
couple of days after the end of term. He ordered her to come and
see him promptly on the first morning of the holiday, to bring an
overnight bag and leave her bike at home. Intrigued, she placed the
gift she’d brought him carefully on the top of her change of
clothes. It was a rare edition of an Oscar Wilde biography which
she’d sought out in one of Cambridge’s many second-hand book shops.
Derek said he’d give her a lift into town but, predictably, forgot
all about her and went off in the car with the children to find a
Christmas tree. Without giving it a second thought, Maxine set out
to walk the three miles.

Greg hardly gave her time to drop her bag
before propelling her out of the door again.

“
Come on, we’re late.”

“
Where are we going?”

“
To sort out your Christmas
present.”

“
Surely you don’t expect me to
choose my own gift,” she complained, miffed when she considered the
amount of time she’d spent selecting exactly the right thing for
him.

“
No, it’s already chosen, but you
have to be there to collect it in person.”

“
What are we doing here?” she
asked, bewildered, when he steered her into an ophthalmology
office.

A few hours later, pads covering both of her
eyes, Greg guided Maxine back in the direction of his flat, having
just bullied her into having laser surgery on her eyes.

“
I’m investing in your future,” he
explained when she complained about the cost. “You said yourself
that people are judgmental when it comes to
appearances.”

“
Yes, but—”

“
I don’t want you missing out on
the best jobs just because you’re myopic. Now you’ve had this, your
eyes won’t deteriorate again, other than perhaps needing reading
glasses as you age.”

“
But I can’t repay you
yet.”

“
You don’t need to.”

“
No, it cost a fortune. Well, a
fortune to me anyway, so I insist on giving you the money back when
I can.”

“
If the money bothers you so
much,” he said with a long-suffering sigh, “then by all means treat
it as a loan. It’s criminal to keep those gorgeous emerald eyes
behind those hideous glasses. I only saw them properly when you
were bawling all over me the other day.”

“
Thank you, then.”

“
You’re welcome. Merry Christmas,
darling.”

“
God, I hope they haven’t blinded
me,” she said as Greg steered her round the crowds of Christmas
shoppers.

“
Oh, ye of little faith. They said
it was a complete success. Careful,” he warned. “Professional
shopper bearing down on us at nine-o-clock.” He propelled her clear
of the High Street veteran in question. “Did it hurt?”

“
No, it was uncomfortable, like
I’d got grit in my eyes, but I didn’t feel anything else. The worst
part was the smell of burning cornea.”

She sensed Greg’s shudder and laughed. “Well,
you did ask.”

“
My mistake! Right, here we are.”
He guided her into the flat and made her lie down while he unpacked
her bag. Finding the present addressed to him, he acted like a
little boy, shaking it above his head to see if it rattled and
insisting upon opening it then and there.

“
I want you to see my
reaction.”

“
But I can’t
see
anything.”

“
Okay then, I’ll describe it to
you. I’m wide-eyed with excitement,” he said, tearing off the
paper. “What’s this?” His voice rose in excitement. “Hey, where did
you find this?”

“
It wasn’t easy.”

“
I can imagine. Thanks so much!”
He kissed her cheek and then removed the next item from her bag.
“That’s not Him, is it?”

“
Yes, sorry, but I had to bring
him along. I never go anywhere without him.”

“
Don’t apologize, darling. You
didn’t exaggerate. He’s divine! Are you sure he’s not
gay?”

Maxine giggled. “The one thing I can tell you
about Noah Fenwick with absolute certainty is that he’s definitely
not gay.”

“
Shame, that’s such a waste.
Right, I’ll put him here, right next to the bed so he’ll be the
first thing you see with your new eyes.”

And he was. Apart from putting drops in her
eyes, Greg kept the pads over them all night. He fed her scrambled
eggs with a spoon and kept her entertained with his high-spirited
chatter until she fell asleep. The next morning the pads were
removed, but not quietly. Always at his best when he felt
comfortable enough to let his extrovert personally out of its cage,
Greg decided the moment called for a little drama. He dragged it
out until Maxine, fraught with nerves, aimed a blow at his body.
Once she’d persuaded him that if he didn’t remove the pads, she’d
tear them off herself, he gently eased away the tape that secured
them.

Maxine blinked several times and then, with a
silent prayer, focused her eyes upon Noah’s picture, convinced
she’d never be able to see it again.

But, to her utter amazement and delight, she
could
see him. Every nuance of his face was sharper, more
clearly defined, and even more ruggedly handsome than when she’d
worn glasses. Hardly daring to believe it, she cautiously looked
round the room. Even the picture on the furthest wall was as clear
as day. She threw her arms around Greg, so thrilled that she wanted
to shout her news from the rooftops.

“
Give me a mirror, quick!” Greg
obliged. “God, my eyes look huge, it’s uncanny. Thank you, Greg,
thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“
You’re very welcome.” He
chuckled. “Just wait until they get a load of you in college next
term. I can’t wait to see their reaction.”

She danced round the room like a creature
possessed.

“
Look, I’ve got real cheekbones!”
she cried, pausing to examine her face again.

“
Very well defined ones,
too.”

“
I had no idea,” she said, causing
Greg to chuckle again. “And I’ve got hip bones, as well. Feel.” She
grabbed his hand and placed it on one of them. “It frightened the
life out of me when they first started emerging. I didn’t have a
clue what they were and thought I’d slipped something or other that
might be important.”

Gregg cracked up. “Sometimes I think I ought
to write down all the daft things you say so that I can embarrass
you when you’re rich and famous.” Maxine blew him a distracted kiss
and continued to examine her profile.

Later that day she saw him off at the station
and celebrated her new look by visiting the thrift shop. Recklessly
she forked out for a pretty dress to wear at Christmas, telling
herself that it being a size fourteen hadn’t influenced her
decision at all.

Returning to class on the first day of term,
her confidence experienced a boost when she received a number of
compliments about her eyes. Lance McFee cornered her at the end of
the first afternoon.

“
Say, Max.” His lazy smile was
full of confidence and smarmy false sincerity. “Sally’s not coming
back this term. She’s got some family crisis or other. How about
taking her place in our study group?”

Trying to keep her lips straight as Greg
performed elaborate sick-making gestures behind Lance’s back,
Maxine returned his smile. “How kind of you to ask me,
Lance.”

He shrugged. “You’re the obvious candidate.”
He clearly didn’t doubt that she’d accept, and she deliberately
perpetrated that myth, anxious to discover first hand if this
revenge business was all it was cracked up to be. “Do you wanna go
to the bar and discuss where you’ll fit in?”

“
Sure, but just one question
first. How come you didn’t ask me to join back in
October?”

He looked a little less sure of himself.
“Well, you know, it was all a bit mad back then. No one really knew
anyone. But now it’s different, and I hate to think of you being
excluded from the group where it all happens.”

“
I don’t think so, thanks,” she
said quietly.

He glared at her, like he couldn’t believe
she’d actually turned him down, his face flushing an angry shade of
red. “It’s your funeral,” he said and stomped away.

“
Atagirl!” Greg linked her arm
through his. “I think we can say that you’ve well and truly made
your reputation in these hallowed halls with that little
show.”

“
Pompous ass!” she said, giggling
as she glanced at Lance’s retreating figure.

“
True. But watch him, Max, he’s
dangerous.”

Maxine tossed her hair. “There’s nothing he
can do to me.”

Chapter Twelve

Maxine replaced the phone, having arranged to
meet Greg for dinner that evening. Still fuming, she leaned back in
her swivel chair and glanced down at the City streets fifteen
floors below her. She and Greg had both graduated with Firsts. When
she’d chosen a career in law, Maxine had been full of idealistic
fervor, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that she’d never
make it to the top in criminal law. She was a different person from
the angry girl who’d arrived in Cambridge all those years ago. In
spite of her weight loss, and Professor Makepeace’s habit of
picking on her in class, she still didn’t possess sufficient
confidence to plead cases in front of a jury. Just the thought of
being the focus of so much attention brought her out in a cold
sweat. She’d overcome many of her hang-ups over the years, but
putting herself forward still didn’t come naturally to
her.

And so Maxine settled upon Corporate Law. The
head-hunters gathered at the colleges toward the end of their final
year like predatory sharks, circling round the spoils, homing in on
the brightest graduates. She was interviewed by four large players,
all of whom offered her junior positions. She eventually settled
upon Metropolitan Pharmaceuticals because they promised the best
benefit package and the most opportunity for advancement. They had
two vacancies to fill in their legal department, but Greg couldn’t
be persuaded to join her. He was snapped up by a world bank,
fortunately situated not far from Maxine in the city of
London.

Maxine wondered if one of her fellow Jesuan’s
would be selected to join her at Metropolitan, and was staggered
when Lance McFee was chosen. She couldn’t understand why because
he’d barely scraped a degree pass. When she told Greg, he’d laughed
and told her to wise up. Lance had landed the job through his
family connections, which was no different than how he’d gotten
into Jesus.

That had been five long years ago, and Maxine
was now twenty-seven. By the end of her first year at university,
her weight had dropped to one hundred forty-seven pounds and stayed
there. It appeared to be her ideal weight, and even if it meant she
wasn’t destined to be stick-thin like a cat-walk model she was
content with her appearance.

She rarely weighed herself any more, but her
new relationship with food had become ingrained, and her weight
seldom varied by more than a pound or so either way. She didn’t
cycle any more, but she’d bought a small flat in the Barbican,
taking advantage of the company’s low-interest mortgage rate, and
walked to work every day. She also played tennis with Greg whenever
they could juggle their busy schedules to find the time. Greg told
her that her shape was now perfect, with lots of curves in all in
the right places. She told him he wasn’t exactly qualified to voice
an opinion, but he huffily informed her that gay men were the best
judges of these matters since they could appreciate women’s assets
without testosterone fueling their judgment.

Still not cured of her idealism, Maxine was
convinced that Lance McFee’s presence at Metropolitan wouldn’t
affect her career. She had the superior brain and would prove
herself here, just as she had at Jesus. She was the only female out
of the six lawyers at Metropolitan, but she naively assumed that
wouldn’t stand in the way of her progress, either. Her boss, John
Andrews, was a married man in his forties with an incisive brain
and natural leadership qualities. He was attractive, and an
outrageous flirt, but Maxine thought she could handle him.
Amazingly she’d had plenty of experience during the last two years
at University and had learned to fend off unwanted advances without
giving offense.