Silver Clouds (2 page)

‘What is she
on
?' Tessa muttered after her and clambered to her feet.

So-called John Smith appeared at the door. ‘What a night, huh, ladies?' He grinned, his arms stretched out towards Tessa. ‘What. A. Night.'

Tessa backed away. ‘I'm very sorry, um, John,' she answered, emphasising his name while feigning disappointment. ‘I have a meeting in . . .' She glanced at her watch. ‘. . . about an hour and a half and I'll need to prepare . . . I'm afraid I can't get out of it. I'll just call a cab.'

John pouted. ‘You're no fun. All work and no play will make you a very dull girl. I wanted to try the, um . . . what was it? The wallaby hop again.'

‘Kangaroo,' Jaz answered.

‘Right, right. The kangaroo hop.'

Oh, no!
‘I really am very sorry.'

Tessa tapped an app on her iPhone and asked John for the address. After she'd requested a taxi she gathered up her bag and coat and surreptitiously checked to see that her shirt wasn't inside out.

‘Thanks so much for a great night,' she said.

‘I'd like to do it again. Soon,' John replied.

Highly unlikely
, thought Tessa, but she smiled sweetly because that was what you did when you were in marketing. After all, a girl never knew whether someone she'd met briefly might be useful in the future. ‘I'd like that,' she said. ‘Jazzy, I'll catch you at the office.'

‘You most certainly will.' Jasmine inclined her head and turned to the man called Charlie, who had emerged dressed in a burgundy silk robe and matching slippers.

‘Going already, dear lady?' he asked.

‘A meeting,' John supplied.

‘Ah. Well, thank you for a wonderful evening.'

‘You're welcome,' Tessa answered. As she glanced around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, her gaze fell on a swipe ID card similar to the one she wore at work, sitting on the mantlepiece, surrounded by jars and tins.

Making out the emblem, she froze.
Oh no. No, no, no, no!

Without another word, she turned and ran out of the flat and down the tiny stairs.

‘Oh my . . . Bloody hell!' She couldn't stop, she had to keep running, had to get away. She hoped no one she knew had seen her last night, hadn't seen her leaving with John Smith because if they had Tessa knew it would be the last work mistake she'd ever make. And it
was
his real name! She kept running, her cab forgotten.

Tessa had just slept with the manager of Soho Marketing, the biggest rival of Marketing Matters, the firm she worked for. Her boss, Darcy Anderson, would sack her without a second thought, despite their family connections, if he knew she'd done the kangaroo hop with Smith. If only she could remember
exactly
what happened last night. Obviously there had been alcohol, meeting Jaz, maybe Bar Soho on Old Compton Street . . .

She remembered the first three glasses of bubbly, which she'd drunk on an empty stomach. Then her insecurities about dancing had disappeared and the dance floor seductively beckoned. So had the bar, again and again. The dim lights, red walls and booze had given her a warm buzz. Sprinkled among the Champagnes there had been beer shooters and goodness knows what else. Then another and another. She gave up counting and trying to dredge up memories.

‘Idiot! What an idiot.'

Hearing her iPhone chirping. She stopped her flight and rummaged in her handbag, cursing. She saw it was her brother. She couldn't speak to Ryan now, not until she got some more painkillers – surely there was a Boots around somewhere . . . Or maybe she should just have another drink despite what she had said to Jaz. That would certainly fix the problem. Hair of the dog and all.

She breathed deeply and shut her eyes, glad her Aunty Spider couldn't see her.

Her phone rang for a second time. Ryan again. Tessa frowned, calculating the time difference.

Wow, it's pretty early at home
, she thought.

‘Hello, Ryan!' Somehow she made her voice sound normal, cheery even.

‘Tessa. How's it going?'

‘All good here,' she said, walking on slowly. ‘I'm very busy, though. Just about to go into a meeting. Can I . . .' She broke off as Ryan's tone filtered through her muddled brain. Something was wrong.

‘No, Tessa, you can't call back. I need to talk to you now. Where are you?'

‘Uh,' she looked around at the unfamiliar setting. ‘Out on the street. What's wrong?' Fear made her voice unsteady.

‘There's no easy way to tell you. I'm sorry. It's Aunty Spider. She died last night.'

Tessa stopped, her vision blurring as she tried to answer.

‘Tessa? Are you there? I know how much you loved her. We all did. Tessa?'

Ryan's voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. She crumpled to the pavement and sat there, suddenly thrust back to the Nullarbor and her dear Aunty Spider. Thoughts crowded her mind, of Spider's smile, her gnarled hands, of her riding her clackety old yellow bike down the dirt roads of home.

But the most terrible thought of all was that she'd not only let her Aunty Spider down, but now she could never, ever apologise.

Chapter 2
London, three days later

‘Mind the step,' said a monotone voice, but Tessa had heard the recorded message so many times she barely registered it.

Stepping off the Tube she pushed her way through the crowd. Everyone was in a hurry. She stumbled into the back of a man in a suit who turned and frowned at her, but never stopped talking into his phone. Muttering an apology she sidestepped him, hoisted her handbag over her shoulder and strode off in the direction of St James's Street, walking as quickly as her skirt would allow.

Her eyes still felt sore from all the crying she'd done last night. Spider's death had come as a huge blow. Coupled with the night spent in John Smith's company, she felt like her new life might fall apart at any moment.

It was a life Spider had helped her construct as a means of getting away from the memories and the guilt. Spider had contacted her nephew by marriage, Darcy Anderson, in London to see if he'd take Tessa on as a junior in his marketing business. He'd been happy to – he'd even agreed to take her friend Jaz on as well. Tessa had done reasonably well since she'd arrived, winning a small promotion two months earlier.

She did love London. Sometimes she still found it difficult to believe she was living among places she'd only ever read about as a child: Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square and Oxford Street. She hadn't just read about them but learnt about them from the songs and tales Aunty Spider had told her.

The reality, of course, was something else. None of the stories had mentioned the small corner off-licences or the litter that raced along on the wind as it blew off the Thames. There was little point, Tessa knew, in looking for a rubbish bin in London – bomb threats had put paid to those.

The city was a melting pot of garbage, history, musty transport fumes and different cultures. In comparison Perth, where Tessa had gone to boarding school and then lived for five years afterwards, was pristine. The smell of the ocean that swept over the city as the Fremantle Doctor roared up the Swan River was fresh and moist. As for the Nullarbor, where she'd lived until she was twelve, its clean, dry air shimmered in the heat of summer.

She stood waiting for the traffic lights to change. Tessa turned her face away from the bitter wind streaming up the street and recalled the previous night. Her father had phoned to let her know she had a week to get home for her aunt's funeral. After he'd hung up, she sat in her room clutching the last letter from Aunty Spider and wept. Then, overcome with guilt and sadness, she'd tried to cry silently, without her flatmates hearing.

Later, as she lay on her bed, her eyes sore and her body spent, to her relief her mobile had chirped. It was a colleague insisting she meet the new PR guy from Harrods. ‘So very well connected, Tessa. You need to come. He's a bit of a dish, so it shouldn't be too hard on you!'

Another excuse, and Tessa was good at accepting them. After reapplying her makeup and quickly changing her clothes, she'd called a cab and things reeled out in their usual fashion.

Now, as she crossed the road and climbed the stairs to her workplace, she wished she hadn't gone. But it was so hard to say no. Being relatively new to London and to the job, she needed to network, make contacts and, most of all, prove her worth. It was essential for both Tessa and Jaz. There were so many marketing and PR people in the city that some Londoners could hardly believe a huge company like Marketing Matters would hire an untested Australian. Two Australians, as it happened. It was probably better that no one knew that Darcy had given her and Jaz jobs as a favour to her great-aunt.

Pushing through the glass door, Tessa licked her dry, wind-blown lips. What she wouldn't do for a drink. She stopped and glanced at her watch. How on earth could she be thinking
that
at eight-thirty in the morning? She felt for her swipe card hanging around her neck, took a deep breath and headed towards the lifts.

As the lift doors opened onto her floor Jaz was already hurrying past with a stack of files. ‘Good morning,
Tessaroo
.'

Ignoring Jaz's joke, Tessa fell into step with her close friend. ‘I don't suppose you know if the main man is around today?'

‘He arrived about ten minutes ago. Should be in his office.' Jaz stopped at a photocopier and punched in a code before rifling through the files to select the one she needed.

‘Might see if I can have a word.' Tessa headed off in the direction of Darcy's inner sanctum. Hopefully, given they were distant cousins, he'd see her. But the fact was, after an initial welcome dinner, their relationship had been strictly professional. There was never any mention of family connections or why Tessa was within the folds of Marketing Matters.

Darcy's PA strode down the hall, took up her position as guard dog at her desk and switched on her computer. Tessa groaned and altered her direction. There would be no way she could get inside the oval office now.

Instead, she detoured to the toilets and sat in a stall, feet resting on the door, her head in her lap. Eventually, she reached for her bag and pulled out the letter from Spider she'd been carrying around for two months. The letter she hadn't answered.

Oh, she had all the excuses.
I'm too busy, just racing out the door
, she'd told herself. Another meeting. Another pub. Another drink. Another man. No time to answer the letter.

But that's all they were: excuses. And now it was too late.

Unfolding the now dog-eared slip of paper, she read it one more time.

Danjar Plains, 17 October 2009
My Dear Tessa,

I guess you are very busy – it's been an age since I heard from you. Don't worry, it's not a rebuke, I'm just hoping you're all right.

I had a letter from Darcy and he says he's happy with your work, which is not surprising.
I know how you put your best into everything.
This is a great trait, but can also be your undoing. Try not to go overboard!

Your mum filled me in on your news yesterday, so I know you are alive! But I wonder how you are,
really
.

Tessa, please write. I am worried about you.

Much love, my darling girl,

AS

It was signed with many kisses.

The truth was, Tessa hadn't known
how
to answer Spider's letter. Because the guilt she'd hoped to throw off by moving to London still plagued her every waking moment. And no matter how settled and happy Tessa might pretend to be, Spider still knew. Her aunt was so damn intuitive, she would realise
something
was amiss. It had been easier, therefore, to stay silent.

Tessa refolded the note and put it back in her bag. Now Spider was gone, she had to go back and pay her last respects. There was no way she could
not
go to Spider's funeral. But she'd taken quite a bit of time off in the last three months, mostly because her hangovers had been so bad she couldn't even get out of bed. Tessa knew her drinking and partying had escalated as the festive season had drawn near. As much as she had promised herself that once New Year's Eve passed she would slow down, it hadn't happened. She wondered whether Darcy would know how many sick days she'd taken. It would all be on her file, but if somehow she could avoid his PA and her carefully kept records, he
might
not bother to look it up. Especially since they were family.

She still felt sick every time she thought about John Smith. That would lead her thoughts to Spider and how she had let her great-aunt down. Her heart would race and she'd break out in a sweat. Tessa was good at heaping blame on her already guilt-ridden shoulders.

More Panadol
, she thought and dug through her bag. Then she stopped.
Stuff it, just this once.
Or, hundredth time.
She pulled out a little bottle of vodka and took a sip. Closing her eyes, she let the drink work its magic. Instantly she relaxed. She took another sip. Warmth flooded through her and she knew she could face the day.

Tessa flushed the loo, tidied her clothes and left, only stopping to look in the mirror. The guilty reflection gazing back at her made sure she didn't stop for too long.

‘Anne, I do need to speak with Mr Anderson.' Tessa tapped her pen against the papers in front of her. It was her third call to Darcy's office this morning and still the guard dog would not put her through.

‘Tessa, as I have explained, Mr Anderson has asked not to be disturbed today. He's very busy. If you put your request in an email, I'll forward it to him.'

‘It's of a personal nature,' Tessa said, playing her trump card.

‘Personal?' Anne paused. ‘Well, even so, I'm afraid you'll have to go through me. Now if you'll excuse me . . .'