Downsizing (17 page)

Once she’d gotten over her initial euphoria at
being admired for her new appearance, she’d treated those who
hadn’t wanted to know her before with disdain. She was damned if
she’d pretend that their earlier indifference hadn’t hurt. She was
making a stand for fat women in general, she told Greg in a
dignified tone that made him laugh.

For the first couple of years, Maxine had
willingly worked all the hours God sent, only seeing her flat when
she was ready to crawl into bed, too exhausted to sleep. She and
Lance were given all the grunt work, and civilized competition
raged between them. Sooner or later a promotion would loom, and
Maxine was determined she’d be the one to get it.

The problem was that she hadn’t understood
playing office politics skillfully counted every bit as much as
performing her job efficiently. She fended off requests for dates
from both her colleagues and her married boss, but couldn’t ignore
the comments—often made in her hearing—about her not being a team
player. Speculation was rife about her being either frigid or a
lesbian. Greg came to her rescue by suggesting that he pose as her
boyfriend.

“
We gay men have our uses,” he
said when the ruse appeared to work, and her position became more
tenable.

When they went abroad on business it was
harder to fend off unwanted advances. She rebuffed a slightly
inebriated John Andrews when he attempted to storm her hotel room
in Paris, pretending not to understand him when he implied that
there was more than one way to get on in the company. Maxine was
still smarting from this bald exploitation of his position, when
Lance accompanied her on her next trip.
He
wouldn’t take no
for an answer until she threatened to call hotel security. His
barely suppressed rage indicated that he didn’t take rejection
well, and that he’d find a way to make her pay for humiliating him
a second time.

It was difficult for her to fight back when
she didn’t play golf or have a father who owned half of Scotland.
Lance took all of his colleagues, with the notable exception of
her, to spend a Bank Holiday weekend at his ancestral home, and
they returned to the office, full of talk of St. Andrews and the
McFee family’s incredible estate. Lance looked directly at her as
the conversation flowed, and actually winked, so smug that she felt
like braining him with the heaviest law tome she could lay her
hands on.

In spite of her refusal to be the office
hoochie, Maxine’s professional approach to her career left John
with little choice but to give her glowing reviews. She moved
steadily up the pay scale, but no promotion was forthcoming. The
only saving grace was that McFee hadn’t been promoted either, but
recently there’d been change in the air. With the expansion of the
company’s product range, there would soon be opportunities for
advancement, and when John handed copies of a writ that had been
served on the company to her and McFee, they both knew they were
being tested. The complainant had reacted adversely to one of their
drugs, claiming the company was at fault for not properly detailing
the possible side-effects. John didn’t think the case held water,
but asked his two most junior associates to look for a way to
rebuff it.

Used to working long hours, Maxine poured over
the writ. Time meant nothing to her as she scoured reference books,
wracking her brain as she searched for the angle she knew must be
there. This was her opportunity, and she was damned if she’d be
bested by that rat, McFee.

It was nine o’clock at night when she finally
discovered what should have been obvious to her long before. With a
cry of triumph, she noted the relevant law reference on her pad and
then rushed to the ladies room. She was bursting for a pee. When
she came back Lance was sauntering out the door, looking impossibly
smug, and her stomach lurched. There was something not quite right
about his attitude. Her pad was in a different position when she
returned to her desk and she knew immediately that he’d stolen the
answer from her. He’d obviously heard the shout she’d been stupid
enough to let out before she nipped to the bathroom.

Maxine smashed her fist against her desk. How
could she have been such an idiot? She knew what lengths he’d been
prepared to go to at Cambridge to get others to do his work for
him. Thinking fast, she decided to get hold of John, tell him what
had happened, and present her case before McFee could get in
first.

John was unreachable that night, and she
couldn’t get a private word with him the next morning, either. She
had no alternative but to voice her suspicions in front of Lance
when he called the two of them to his office later in the day.
Anger caused her to bungle it, and she came across as spiteful and
mean-spirited. She’d scorned both of them, so now they weren’t
cutting her any slack. She couldn’t actually prove that McFee had
stolen her argument, and John clearly didn’t intend to listen to
unsubstantiated suspicions.

“
Didn’t realize that you were such
a bad loser, Maxine,” he said, sharing a smile with Lance that
pointedly excluded her.

Burning with the injustice of it all, Maxine
wasted no time in phoning Greg and arranging to meet him for
dinner. She could rant and rave at him all night and get it out of
her system. He wouldn’t mind. She left early for once, stopping at
the desk of the secretary who worked for her and Lance, around
which a crowd had gathered.

“
Poppy’s finally done it and
invested half-a-month’s salary on those boots she’s been lusting
after for weeks,” explained one of the female
paralegals.

“
Let’s have a look, then.” Maxine
endeavored to dredge up enthusiasm for a subject that didn’t
interest her much. The boots were snakeskin, with four-inch
stiletto heels and impossibly pointy toes. “Very nice,” she said
diplomatically. “But how long do you think you’ll be able to wear
them without losing all feeling in your feet?”

“
Half-an-hour tops, is my guess,”
Poppy said cheerfully.

“
She’s got a date with McFee
tonight, so I doubt whether they’ll stay on for longer than that
anyway,” predicted the paralegal, sounding as though she was
speaking from experience.

“
Are you really going out with
him?” Maxine asked.

“
Yes, he’s taking me out to
dinner,” she said, beaming with delight.

“
You’ll probably be the main
course,” the paralegal predicted.

Maxine wanted to warn Poppy not to trust
McFee, but knew she’d be wasting her breath. Their antagonistic
history was common knowledge, and Poppy would only think she was
being spiteful. Wishing her a nice evening, she went home to get
ready for her dinner with Greg, bursting to have a good bitch about
the unfairness of her situation. She told Noah’s picture all about
it as she changed.

With her first month’s salary she’d thrown out
the original photograph. By then it was so dog-eared that his
perfect features were marred by creases. She took the negative to a
photo shop, had a larger print made, and invested in a solid silver
frame, warning Noah with a shake of her finger not to get above
himself just because he was now framed in silver.

She poured out her grievances to Greg over
dinner in an unpretentious restaurant they favored in Islington.
Greg didn’t pull his punches, berating her for being such an
idiot.

“
There’s nothing you can do to
about it now,” he said.

“
But, it’s so—”

“
I know. Life’s a real bitch
sometimes. Just let it go. Your track record will more than
compensate for this one error.”

“
I suppose.” She stabbed savagely
at a potato with her fork, scowling. “Tell me about Paul,” she
said.

“
I thought you’d never ask,” Greg
said, grinning.

The men had just started a cautious
relationship, and Maxine was delighted to see a sparkle of hope in
her dear friend’s eyes as, with uncharacteristic modesty, he told
her how attracted he was to Paul, but how frightened he was that it
might all end in tears.

“
How’s the refuge?” he asked her
when he’d exhausted the subject of Paul’s attributes. He was
referring to the volunteer work Maxine did at a women’s
shelter.

“
Heartbreaking and humbling. I
used to think I could write the manual on women with lack of
self-worth, but the ladies I deal with at the shelter are a world
apart from anything I’ve ever experienced. They’re completely
dominated by their thuggish men, so we offer them an out, a safe
haven, but they keep going back and taking more abuse. It makes me
so mad. And if you could see how traumatized the children are,
you’d weep.”

“
You obviously get a lot out of
it. Would you ever consider getting out of the corporate jungle and
doing something like that full time?”

“
God, no! I’d slit my wrists
within days.”

As they were leaving, a couple at another
table caught Maxine’s eye. A red-haired woman faced her, and Maxine
was sure she’d seen her somewhere before. The man with his back to
her, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, was definitely
familiar. She approached their table without being aware of doing
so, her stomach churning as realization dawned.

“
Charles,” she said, her voice
quavering, “is that you?” Charles Turner broke off his conversation
and turned toward her with a professional smile that didn’t quite
disguise his annoyance at being interrupted. He clearly didn’t
recognize her. “It’s me, Charles. Maxine. Maxine Small.”

“
Maxine?” He looked at her for a
long time, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Maxine,” he repeated,
smiling as he stood up and took her outstretched hand. “I never
would have known you.”

“
It’s been a long time, Charles,
but you haven’t changed a bit.”

“
My dear girl, not only have you
grown into a beautiful and successful woman, but an elegant liar,
too. How are you?”

“
Very well. And you?”

The lady with Charles cleared her throat and
rose to her feet.

“
Maxine, this is my Office
Manager, Lorraine Morton.”

“
Hello, Lorraine.” Maxine offered
her hand.

“
Well, I wish you weren’t here,”
Lorraine said good-naturedly. “Just looking at you is enough to
make me feel old and drab.”

“
You certainly don’t look it.”
Maxine smiled at the woman. “But where are my manners?” She
hastened to introduce Greg.

“
If you have the sense to be
Maxine’s friend,” Charles said, gripping Greg’s outstretched hand
as he sized him up, “then you must be a man that’s worth knowing.
Are you a lawyer too?”

“
Yes,” he said, “for my sins.
Maxine and I were at Cambridge together.”

“
Your mother tells me that you’re
working in the City,” Charles said.

“
Yes, yes I am.”

“
Then I insist that we have dinner
together soon so that we can catch up properly.”

Maxine hadn’t stopped to consider that
possibility when spontaneously barging in on Charles’s dinner with
Lorraine. To her surprise she found no gremlins creeping out of
their boxes to wreak havoc with her emotions at the thought of
dining with Noah’s father-in-law. Instead she found the idea
appealing and delved into her bag to search out one of her business
cards.

“
I’d like that,” she said, handing
him the card. “Give me a ring when you have the time.”

After more kisses and handshakes she left the
restaurant with Greg, conscious of Charles’s eyes boring into her
retreating back.

As good as his word, Charles rang her early
the following week and they met for dinner. Charles wanted to know
all about her life since leaving Colebrook, and when it became
apparent that he had no intention of mentioning Noah she gradually
relaxed. Only when they were having coffee did he make her
uncomfortable by asking her if she ever thought about him. He
didn’t mention Noah by name, but then he didn’t need to. They both
knew who he meant. Maxine felt the familiar shutters closing over
her eyes and averted her gaze.

“
I’m sorry, Maxine, that was
unforgivably crass of me. Let’s pretend I didn’t speak, and I
promise you the subject won’t come between us again.”

In control of herself once more, Maxine
offered him a sad smile. In agreeing to see Charles for dinner
again she felt no need to ask him to keep the fact that they’d run
into each other a secret from people in Colebrook, instinctively
knowing that he would do so. Charles Turner was good at keeping
confidences, if the intimate nature of the dinner he’d been having
with Lorraine the other evening was anything to go by.

She’d have a lot to tell Noah’s picture about
tonight.

* * * *

After a depressing Sunday at the women’s
refuge, Maxine went home and spent a long time under the shower,
trying to scrub the smell of desperation off her skin. Heating a
can of soup for her supper, she sat at her laptop and accessed her
email. She was pleased to see that there was one from
Rachel.

They’d spoken on the phone about once a month
while she’d been at Cambridge, but now they communicated via
cyberspace, which was more convenient for them both. Rachel, as
good as her word, had never once mentioned Noah and Cassie, but it
was impossible for Maxine not to gain information about their
activities from the things she
didn’t
say. Joey was working
for Noah now instead of being his partner, Joey and Rachel had
married, Rachel’s business was slowly moving into the black, and
they had two young children.