Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller (20 page)

‘You’re
still here then?’

‘Good to see you too.’

‘Sorry,’ Sam said, feigning
a smile. ‘I see they’ve even given you your very own cubicle. You must be doing
something right.’

Gabrielle Williams
returned the smile, only hers was genuine. ‘Don’t worry; I won’t be here much
longer. They’ve extended my work placement for another week to help you settle
back in.’

‘That’s kind of you,
but you needn’t stay on my account.’

‘Don’t flatter
yourself. They’re paying me this time.’

‘Oh, I see. Great.’

‘Not that’s there much
going on.’

‘Still quiet?’

‘As a church mouse. A
couple of brochure refreshers, a few social media updates, that’s about it.’

‘Well, it’s that time
of year. The run up to Christmas is always quiet. Everybody’s out partying and
having fun. God only knows why. I’ve always found Christmas to be rather
depressing.’

‘I never had you down
as a Scrooge.’

‘Bah humbug! Anyway,
I’m glad we’re quiet. It’ll give me time to settle back in properly before the
New Year stampede.’

‘Stampede? Isn’t that wishful
thinking?’

‘No, not really. Once
the festivities are finished and the hangovers have died down, companies tend
to want to start the New Year off with a bang. Steal a march on the
competition.’

‘Oh, I see. I don’t
suppose there’s any chance you’ll be needing some assistance when the mad rush
starts?’

‘You’re certainly not
backward in coming forward, are you?’

‘Nothing ventured, and
all that.’

‘So they say.’ He had
to admire her confidence. It was hard not to like Gabrielle Williams. So what
if she was one of Tom’s girls? She was hardly the first good-looking woman to
have succumbed to his relentless charm offensive. She worked hard too, and she
had plenty of talent. Because of the firm’s financial position, it was unlikely
that the powers-that-be would agree to offer her a permanent position, but there
was no harm in asking. He was used to working on his own, but maybe an
assistant wouldn’t be such a bad idea if it made his life easier. Although
business was quiet at the moment, there were often times when he was rushed off
his feet. He could certainly teach her an awful lot about copywriting. Maybe
he’d enjoy having an eager apprentice to pass on his knowledge to.

‘I tell you what. If
you prove to me over the next few days that you’re keen to learn, then I’ll see
what I can do, okay? I can’t promise you anything, because ultimately I’m not
in charge of the money, but I might be able to convince the right people that
you’re worth a chance.’

‘Really?’ Gabby said,
beaming from ear to ear. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘We’ll see. Just so
long as you don’t ask me how I’m feeling.’

‘What do you mean?’

Sam smiled and shook
his head. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Private joke.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Now,’ Sam said,
switching on his computer and retrieving his empty cup from the desk, ‘I’m off
to make some coffee. When I return, how about we begin by going over the work
schedule and deciding what needs doing?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll have
the schedule ready for you by the time you get back.’

‘Great. Oh, there was
one more thing I wanted to mention.’

‘Yes?’

‘I know that Tom and
you were close, but I wanted t-’

‘What do you
mean…close?’

‘Well, just that you
were…fond…of each other.’

‘He might have been fond
of me, but I was never fond of him. Not in that way, if that’s what you’re
implying.’

‘But I thought…it’s
just that he told that me you and he were…were…’

‘Lovers?’

‘Well…yes…I suppose you
could call it that. Anyway, all I wanted to say was that I would prefer it if
you didn’t talk about him when you’re around me, okay?’

‘Tom and I were never
lovers!’ Gabby said, her face bright red with a combination of anger and
embarrassment. ‘He made it pretty clear that he wanted to be, but I wasn’t
interested. He’s married for a start, and besides, he’s too old.’

‘He’s the same age as
me!’

‘Exactly. Honestly,
Sam, is that what he told you? And you believed him?’

‘I guess I did,’ Sam
replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. ‘He’s got a
track record for chasing other women.’

‘Well, I can assure you
that I’m not on any damn  record, okay?’

‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted. It’s
typical though, isn’t it? I’ve studied bloody hard to get this far. I’m trying
my best to do a good job and make a decent impression, and all everyone thinks
is that I’m the easy blonde who slept with Tom Jackson. What fucking century
are we meant to be living in?’

Sam stood up and pushed
back his chair, waving his cup in the air in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Nobody
thinks that about you, okay? Anyway, I don’t think he told anyone else. Look, how
about I make it up to you by getting the coffee? What do you say?’

Gabby looked at him red-faced
as she considered his peace offering. ‘On one condition,’ she said, handing him
her cup. ‘Neither of us mentions that liar’s name ever again.’

Sam took the cup from
her hand and nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’

He headed off towards
the kitchen, deep in thought.
How many other lives has Tom Jackson ruined
,
he thought, acknowledging the welcoming smiles from his co-workers as he walked
past them.
Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to
deceive.
He arrived at the kitchen and closed the door behind him.
Why did
Tom lie to me about Gabby? Was he so insecure that he felt the need to
manufacture his conquests?
Was his brain so warped for him to think that
I’d actually be impressed by him screwing someone half his age while his poor
wife waited for him at home?

I hope he suffers for
this,
Sam thought, pacing the kitchen floor as he tried to
compose himself.
 I hope the bastard rots in hell for what he’s done.

‘Well?
How was your first day back?’

‘Could’ve been worse. Strangely
enough, most people seemed genuinely pleased to see me.’

‘Hardly surprising; a caring,
funny, handsome man like you. Why wouldn’t they be pleased?’

‘What are you after?’

‘Come on then,’ urged
Sarah, cuddling into him. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Sam shrugged. ‘There’s
nothing much to say.’ He certainly wasn’t planning on telling her about the
assault; it would only upset her. Besides, he had no desire to waste any more
of his life on Tom Jackson. ‘Holdsworth was surprisingly supportive; in fact everyone
was really welcoming. Even Gabrielle Williams seemed happy to see me.’

Sarah’s eyes narrowed
at the mention of her name. ‘Gabrielle Williams?’ she said, struggling to
remain calm. ‘Isn’t she the one you told me about? The one who was sleeping
with Tom.’

‘Not according to her, she
wasn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’
asked Sarah, her heart-beat quickening.

‘She told me her
version of events today.’

‘Told you what,
exactly?’

Sam sighed and stared
into the fire. He didn’t want to talk about Tom or Gabby, or anyone else for
that matter. All he wanted was to lie on the couch with Sarah and relax after a
long day at work.

‘Look, all I’m saying
is that it turns out nothing happened between them. Tom tried his luck a few
times, but Gabby wasn’t having any of it.’

‘And you believe her?’

‘Why wouldn’t I? She
seemed genuine enough, and Tom’s hardly renowned for telling the truth. Given
everything that’s happened, I’ll take her word over his any day of the week. Anyway,
what’s it matter? It’s got nothing to do with us.’

‘No,’ Sarah replied,
her voice barely audible. ‘I guess not.’ She couldn’t dare tell Sam that she’d
confronted Tom about sleeping with Gabby after Sam had expressly asked her not
to.
But why did Tom lie to me, too?
she thought.
Why didn’t he deny
sleeping with Gabby when I asked him about it?

‘Look,’ Sam said,
brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. ‘None of that matters anymore,
okay? It’s time we focused on the present, not the past. We can get through
this, I’m sure of it, but only if we don’t look back.’

‘What have I done to
deserve you?’ she said, resting her head against his chest and placing a hand
on his thigh.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ he
said, stirring as she slowly slid her hand towards his groin. ‘Might as well
take advantage of Max being away. Besides, it’s Chapman’s Christmas party
tomorrow evening, so I could do with an early night.’

‘You didn’t mention any
party.’

‘I’m sorry. I forgot
all about it until someone mentioned it today at work. I’m in two minds whether
or not to go.’

‘You should,’ she said,
rubbing her hand teasingly over his crotch. ‘It’ll do you good to socialise. Take
your mind off everything.’

‘Socialise? Sam
Railton? You don’t know me very well, do you?’

‘Well enough.’

‘Maybe you’re right.
Maybe I should go. It’s always self-affirming seeing other people getting drunk
and making complete idiots of themselves. What about you though? I don’t really
want to leave you here all alone.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’
Sarah replied, taking him by the hand and leading him towards the hallway. ‘No annoying
husband or demanding son to bother me, bottle of wine, relaxing candlelit soak
in the tub…I think I’ll manage just fine, thanks.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said,
playfully slapping her behind as they ascended the stairs. What with his
rapidly improving mental and physical health, his relief at being back at work
and the high probability of some imminent fun between the sheets, he could
perhaps be forgiven for thinking that he was finally getting his life back on
track. He could certainly do with a change of luck; a fresh start was just what
the doctor ordered.

For
a business that prided itself on innovation and originality, it was perhaps
surprising that for three years in a row the Board had opted to host Chapman’s
Christmas party in the same, downtrodden hotel. There were several reasons for
this: Lloyd’s Hotel was situated directly across the street from Chapman’s, the
food if not great was certainly better than average, and (perhaps most
importantly), Charles Holdsworth was a personal friend of Louis Sabatini, the
hotel’s owner, so there was a deal to be had. And when times were tight, deals
were essential.

Most of Chapman’s female
employees, and also a surprisingly high number of the men, had left work
earlier that afternoon to rush home and spruce themselves up for the evening’s
festivities. Along with a handful of other, less enthusiastic colleagues, Sam
had offered to remain at work and help manage any calls that came in; not that
there’d been many of those. When six pm finally arrived, he collected a small
gym bag from beneath his desk and made his way to the men’s washroom, emerging
ten minutes later sporting his favourite red and black checked shirt and
dark-brown chinos. Sam Railton was not what you would call a dedicated follower
of fashion.

Scanning his PC screen
for any last-minute emails, he proceeded to switch everything off and turn his
phone to voicemail mode.
You don’t have to do this
, he thought, checking
his watch and wondering if it would be wiser to forget all about the party and
return home instead. Maybe Sarah wouldn’t mind him interrupting her evening;
she might even let him share her bath! On second thoughts, there was every
possibility that she wouldn’t be in the slightest bit pleased to see him; in
fact, he knew fine well she wouldn’t.
Get a grip
, he thought, checking
his appearance in a nearby mirror.
It’s just a stupid party, you anti-social
prick!  Stay for dinner and then disappear, but at least show your face. You
need to play the game.

‘Alright!’ he said
aloud, relieved that there was nobody around to hear him. With a disgruntled
sigh, he put on his coat and scarf and headed to the lifts, resigned to an hour
or two of forced bonhomie.

He walked outside and
inhaled sharply as an icy gust of wind blasted over him, leaving him shivering
despite his warm coat. Crossing the street and zig-zagging through bustling
crowds of commuters and party-goers, he arrived at the entrance to Lloyd’s
Hotel and hurried inside to escape the cold. Unlike many of the hotels in the King’s
Cross area, Lloyd’s had failed to keep pace with the growing trend towards sleek
modernity and contemporary décor. A red, floral Axminster carpet spanned the
entire ground floor, contrasting sharply against the dark mahogany furniture
that made up the reception area. The hotel had been constructed towards the end
of the Victorian era, which explained the ornate cornices and high ceilings typifying
the period. Judging by the threadbare state of the carpet and the dated,
discoloured wallpaper, it was fair to say that Lloyd’s Hotel had seen better
days.

Sam’s eyes were drawn
to a black, A-frame pin-board standing at the foot of the grand stairwell, into
which were stuck several uneven rows of gold-coloured plastic letters informing
visitors as to which room their particular function was being held in. Sam
walked across to the board, scanning the company names until he noticed:
Chapman’s
Design Agency – The Westminster Bar, 1
^st
floor.
With all the
gusto of a condemned man being marched along death row to the electric chair,
he took a deep breath and began climbing the stairs.

The first thing that
struck him as he opened the doors to the Westminster bar was the overwhelming
sense of joviality pervading the room. He checked his watch: 6.30pm. The DJ was
still setting up his equipment and the evening had barely started, and yet half
of his colleagues already appeared to be three sheets to the wind. Sam could
only assume that a fair number of them had already consumed a few liveners in
one of the nearby bars before arriving. As he watched them, he shivered as he
thought back to a time when he would have been the first to arrive and the last
to leave; consuming more and more booze until eventually he would either pass
out or be thrown into a taxi and sent home. Even now, years later, there was
still a part of him that longed to experience again the invigorating high that
kicks in around the third or fourth drink; that heady cocktail of confidence
and optimism that is so hard for a shy man to achieve when sober. Part of him
envied his colleagues as he watched them sipping their bubbly drinks from an
assortment of attractively-shaped glasses, but therein lay the problem:
sipping
was not part of Sam’s vocabulary. He knew only too well that to take even one
sip would result in him draining the entire bar dry.

As he made his way into
the room, he noticed Gabby waving at him from one of the stools by the bar.
Rather surprisingly for someone so young and attractive, there didn’t appear to
be anybody with her, so returning the smile, he walked over to the bar and
joined her.

‘Why are you sitting
here all by yourself?’ he asked.

‘I’ve just arrived,’
she said, rummaging in her handbag and retrieving her purse.

‘Allow me,’ he said,
signalling to the barman. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Thanks. I’ll have a
vodka and tonic, please.’

‘No problem. It’s not
every day I get to buy an attractive young woman a drink.’ Then, realising what
he’d said, he nervously added: ‘Don’t get me wrong; I’m a happily married man…’

‘You don’t have to
defend yourself,’ Gabby said, laughing at his ineptitude. ‘I know what you
meant. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the unfaithful type.’

‘Really? What makes you
say that?’

‘Well…no offence…but
blokes that are out to get lucky don’t tend to wear checked shirts and granddad
trousers.’

‘Thanks a bunch!’

‘I meant it in a nice
way. You look very smart…and very happily married.’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Afraid so.’

‘Well, I’ll say one thing…you’re
a good judge of character.’

Gabby smiled at the
barman who’d come across to serve them. ‘What can I get you, sir?’

‘Eh? Oh…erm…a vodka and
tonic, and a Coke for me, please.’

‘Coming right up.’

‘You’re not drinking?’
Gabby asked.

‘Not tonight, no,’ Sam
replied. He didn’t want to enter into a conversation about why he didn’t drink;
usually whenever he tried to explain, he ended up having to defend himself to
someone who didn’t –
couldn’t
– understand.

‘Fair enough. I’m only
having a couple, anyway. I’m meeting my boyfriend at eight.’

‘Boyfriend? Who’s the
lucky man?’

‘He’s called John,’ she
said. ‘He teaches at a primary school in Battersea. I’ve known him since we
were kids.’

‘Childhood
sweethearts,’ Sam said, winking at her. ‘Young love, eh?’

‘Something like that.
We’re hoping to move in together once I’ve actually started earning some
money.’

‘Hence the reason for
you begging me to put a good word in for you at work.’

‘I didn’t beg,’ she
said,  punching him playfully on the arm. ‘But yes, I would be grateful if you
could help me out.’

Sam smiled. He always
thought he was a decent judge of character, but he’d shot way wide of the mark
with Gabby. When he’d first seen her, he’d decided she was nothing more than
one of Tom’s underdressed and underqualified challenges - here today, gone
tomorrow – but having seen the quality of her work, and listening to her talk
about her boyfriend, he realised he’d made a mistake.

‘Ah, there you are!’
boomed a voice from behind them. ‘My two favourite copywriters. I hope you two
aren’t talking shop?’

Sam and Gabby turned to
see Charles Holdsworth towering over them. Even on an informal occasion such as
this, he remained as intimidating as ever.

‘Good evening, Charles,’
Sam said, plucking up the courage to reply first. ‘Lovely party.’
Why did I
say that?
he thought, cringing at the comment.

‘Yes…good old Luigi. He
never lets us down. I keep thinking we should change the venue, but every year
he agrees to chip a little more off the tab, so here we are again.’ He turned
his attention to Gabby. ‘How are you enjoying your time at Chapman’s? I’ve been
hearing good things about you.’

‘I’m really enjoying it,’
she replied, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Everyone’s so friendly and helpful. Especially
Sam…he’s a great mentor.’

‘I’m not so sure about
that,’ Sam said, rolling his eyes. ‘Besides, there’s not an awful lot I can
teach Gabby. She’s a natural.’

‘Careful, Sam,’
Holdsworth said. ‘You don’t want to talk yourself out of a job now, do you?’

‘I’m not saying she’s
perfect, but she’s certainly got potential. I know it’s only a secondment, but
she’d be a real asset to Chapman’s.’

‘Would she?’ asked
Holdsworth, turning his attention to Gabby. ‘And how would you feel about that,
Miss Williams?’

‘About what, Mr
Holdsworth?’

‘About staying on at
Chapman’s a little longer.’

Gabby’s eyes widened. ‘I
don’t mean to be direct, Mr Holdsworth, but are you offering me a job?’

‘There’s nothing wrong
with being direct,’ Holdsworth said, enjoying the power that came with his
position. ‘There’s nothing more annoying than people who beat about the bush.’
Signalling to the barman, he tapped his empty champagne flute and held up two
fingers. The barman nodded and disappeared to the other side of the bar,
returning moments later with two freshly filled glasses that he handed to
Holdsworth. ‘I have some good news,’ he said, offering Gabby one of the
glasses, which she accepted with a charmed smile. ‘I was intending to keep it
quiet until tomorrow, but seeing as we’re having a party and everyone seems in
such a good mood…well…I might as well tell you now. ‘

‘Tell us what?’ Sam asked.

‘We’ve landed a new
account,’ Holdsworth said, struggling to conceal his excitement. ‘I’m not going
to say at this stage which one it is, but what I will say is that it’s a
biggie.’

‘How big?’

‘Bigger than our top
three accounts put together.’

Sam’s eyes lit up.
‘National?’

‘Try global.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Sam
said, ‘When did that happen? I wasn’t aware we were pitching for any new
business. Tom certainly kept that quiet.’

‘Tom had nothing to do
with it,’ Holdsworth said, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I negotiated the deal.
Anyway, I don’t want to say any more right now. There’ll be an official
announcement tomorrow or the day after; but suffice to say that this couldn’t
have come at a better time for Chapman’s. Which is why,’ he said, turning to
Gabby, ‘we’ll be needing to recruit one or two talented people to bolster the design
team. So, in answer to your question…yes…I am offering you a job. I’ve heard
some positive comments about you, and naturally there’ll be the usual
probationary period, but subject to agreeing terms and conditions, I would be happy
to have you on board.’

Had Gabby been drunk,
she would have probably jumped up and hugged Holdsworth there and then, but
seeing as she was only half-way through her first drink, she opted to show her
appreciation by hugging Sam instead. As she clung on to him, he looked up at
Holdsworth, who smiled and winked at him as if to say
it’s good being the
boss
. When Gabby finally released him from her clutches, she turned to
Holdsworth and said: ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say
anything. You’ve earned it. Besides, young Sam here could do with the help,
especially when he finds out how much work he’s going to have on his plate in
the coming months. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’m afraid I need to mingle.
It’s a hard life being the boss of-’

‘Holdsworth,’ a voice
interjected from behind them. ‘HOLDSWORTH!’

The room fell silent as
Charles Holdsworth’s name was called out a third and then a fourth time.
Holdsworth looked at Sam and Gabby and raised his eyebrows. He didn’t need to
turn around to recognise who was calling him.

‘Good evening, Tom,’ he
said, turning to find Tom Jackson standing alone in the middle of the room. His
clothes were dirty and torn, but Holdsworth paid this no attention. ‘What
brings you here? Can’t you see we’re having a party?’

Tom grinned and reached
into his coat pocket. The whites of his eyes were streaked with yellow lines
and his hair was wild and unkempt. He had the appearance of a man who hadn’t
showered or slept a wink in days, and his stare had an intensity about it that
made it clear to everyone in the room that he wasn’t in the mood to be messed
with. Unsettled by his presence, several members of the crowd began nervously
looking at each other and slowly backing away into the shadows; not wanting to
play any part in what was about to happen. And judging by the look on Tom’s
face, something was
definitely
about to happen.

‘What do you want,
Tom?’ asked Holdsworth, his smile and self-assuredness wavering. ‘What’s wrong
with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’