The Christmas Party (24 page)

Tyler dabbed gingerly at his wounds with it.

Heads would roll for this, Tyler thought. He was making a note of the staff who were guffawing most loudly. They would go right to the top of Lance’s SACKED list. Then we’d see who was laughing.

Of both Josh and Louise, there was no sign. He’d hoped that one or other of them might have come to his rescue. Kirsten was still missing too. Typical. She was never around when he needed her support. That was one thing he’d say for Melissa, she was always there for Lance, through thick and thin. If only Kirsten had been as loyal to him. He punched in her mobile phone number, but it went straight to voicemail. He stabbed in a text instead.

Dying!
he wrote.
Need urgent medical assistance.

That should bring her running. He wanted her to take him home. It had been a terrible Christmas party. This one certainly wouldn’t go down in the annals of office-party history.

As he couldn’t locate his wife, he called Louise instead. She picked up instantly.

‘Tyler?’

‘Where are you?’ he hissed.

‘Erm …’ Tyler thought she sounded cagey. ‘I’m just in reception.’

‘Did you not see what just happened on stage?’

‘No. I was … er … a bit busy.’

‘Where have you been all night?’ Tyler complained. ‘I’ve hardly seen you.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Louise said. ‘Your voice sounds really shaky. What’s the problem?’

‘The problem is,’ he said, ‘that I’ve been attacked by a madman wielding a chainsaw.’

‘
What?
’

‘I had an accident with The Magnificent Marvo. Or, more specifically, he had an accident with me.’ Tyler sighed. ‘Look, I need your help. I’ve had a traumatic experience. Meet me in the library in five minutes. I’ll explain it all then.’

Tyler hung up. Louise would know what to do. Not only was she very easy on the eye, she was proving to be an excellent and dedicated assistant. Tucked under his wing, this girl could go a long way in Fossil Oil. She just had to play her cards right.

He headed to the bar. The staff, who were still busy necking Jägerbombs as if they were going out of fashion, self-consciously cleared a path for him.

‘Brandy,’ he said to the barman. ‘Make it a double.’

The man handed it over without a word and Tyler downed it. He slammed the glass back on the bar. The barman raised an eyebrow in question and Tyler nodded. The glass was instantly refilled. That went the same way as the other. Now he was starting to feel better.

Still oozing blood and clutching his trousers to keep them up, he headed off towards reception. At the very least he’d need plasters, or a bandage. A clean shirt wouldn’t go amiss. He knew that Louise would organise something. She’d recently been on a first-aid course, so he’d be in safe hands.

When everyone else deserted him, he knew he could count on her. That meant a lot. Well, her loyalty would be rewarded. He’d liked her the minute he laid eyes on her. There was more than a flicker of attraction there and he was pretty sure it was mutual.

Chapter Thirty

Kirsten didn’t know what to do. Where could she go? Where could she hide? Tyler would come after her, she was sure.

Well, she didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear the honeyed words, the ridiculous explanation that would pour from his mouth. He was so well practised in the profuse apology that it meant nothing any more. She would get out of this place, and
now
.

This time he’d gone too far. After the last fling, with his assistant Debbie, he’d promised her
faithfully
that he wouldn’t do this to her again. Well, he had, and she couldn’t stand it any more. The deceit had torn her into little pieces and she was done with him.

It was only blind fury that was stopping the tears from rolling down Kirsten’s cheeks. They hung precipitously balanced on the edge of her eyelashes while she dared them to fall. She felt like she’d been hit in the stomach by a bowling ball, and it had driven the sour taste of that tepid, mass-produced turkey dinner back to her throat.

Heaven knew, she hoped she’d been wrong this time. But she never was. Call it a woman’s intuition if you like. Whatever you called it, her instincts were unfortunately infallible on the Tyler front. She’d known that he was a selfish and unfaithful bastard for years, she just wondered how many more times he would have to prove it to her before she plucked up the courage to leave him for good.

But why that little girl in her Primark dress? She was no different from the last one, and she was certainly no older. Kirsten doubted she was more than mid-twenties. Maybe younger. Beneath all that make-up and the strutting confidence of youth, it was hard to tell. How could she compete with that? She kept herself in good shape, but there was no denying that she was the wrong side of forty. Perhaps it was just that all men approaching middle age needed their menopausal egos massaged by a bimbo in a skirt that barely covered her bottom and whose IQ was never destined to keep pace with her age. But she was being bitchy and, worryingly, this girl looked a cut above that. She was bright and seemed as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

Also Kirsten was one to talk about stupidity. If she was that clever, why did she keep taking Tyler back, making excuses for him and insisting that underneath it all he loved her? Finding out that he’d engineered the downfall of her and Simon’s relationship had been bad enough. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Tonight she’d finally woken up to Tyler Benson’s ways. He was one leopard who’d never ever change his spots, and for her own sanity she had to get away from him. His days were not only numbered, they were filed in little boxes, ready to be put away once and for all. She wondered what Simon would think of this. He knew what Tyler was like, probably more accurately than she did. Instinctively her fingernails curled into the palms of her hands as she approached the reception desk, and she forced herself not to cry. Not yet. When she was at home and alone and no one could see her, then she would cry.

‘Is my taxi here yet?’ she asked at the desk.

The girl frowned. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ll ring them again for you. They should have been here by now. The snow’s getting worse though. I wonder if they’re able to drive up the hill to the manor. Let me get on to it for you.’

‘I’ll wait outside,’ Kirsten said.

‘It’s really very cold,’ the receptionist warned.

‘I’ll be fine.’ Kirsten couldn’t feel anything. If she sat out there and froze into a solid block of ice she couldn’t have cared less. Her marriage was over and she wondered whether she’d ever have the capacity to feel again.

Leaving the girl to phone the cab company, she walked out of the front door and left the cloying warmth of Wadestone Manor. The night was very snowy now and it was settling on the ground. An inch or more must have fallen since she’d been out in the posh potting shed with Simon. The temperature was hovering around the wrong side of freezing and she felt the harsh elements of the crisp winter night trying to invade her inadequately clad body.

Kirsten wasn’t sure if she was afraid. There was a tense numbness in her whole body, but she was almost certain it wasn’t fear. There might even have been a sense of release, of closure somewhere in there. Whatever she felt, she knew there could be no looking back, no hesitation, no regrets. She would only go forward from now on, and that thought created a tiny spot of lightness in her heart.

Pulling her coat around her, she went to sit on the steps at the front of the house. As she looked round, she noticed a relatively sheltered spot in the lee of a stone pillar on the portico and headed towards it. It was in shadow, away from the revealing glare of the Hollywood-style lighting, and Kirsten huddled inside it, pulling her coat tightly around her. The night air was frosty and clear and it was as instantly sobering as being plunged into a bath full of iced water. All her senses felt sharpened, alive. The piercing cold penetrated Kirsten’s lungs as she breathed in and out, but her breath was pleasingly steady, controlled. Tiny white vaporous clouds ballooned in front of her as she exhaled. She stared out at the snowy wonderland scene, the towering Christmas trees that flanked the house, the lights strung in the trees, and it soothed her. Soon it would be Christmas, and who knew what that would bring?

Her bottom was cold on the stone step and she regretted not wearing thermal underwear. But then it wasn’t every day one went to a Christmas party and ended up wandering round outside in sub-zero temperatures instead. Even a pair of big pants from Marks & Spencer would have offered more protection than what she had on. Why was it that she persisted in wearing flimsy silk and lace underwear after ten years of marriage? Even if they didn’t find them a huge turn-on, didn’t most men eventually get used to their wives wearing practical underwear and tights?

Tyler never would. He was definitely a silk-and-stockings man. Some days she longed to slob around in a tatty tracksuit and sagging knickers whose elastic had gone through being washed too many times. But she had at least tried to bring his wandering gaze back to rest on her occasionally. When, briefly, it did, she hadn’t wanted to be caught in a sports bra and big comfortable knickers that didn’t match.

Would the lure of expensive frillies have ever been enough to keep him coming back over the years? What would have happened when it wasn’t only the elastic that had sagged but the contents inside? Sometimes she’d felt she could prance round naked with a rose between her teeth and Tyler wouldn’t have noticed. It was never going to be reliable as a long-term strategy for keeping one’s husband, the Agent Provocateur approach to marital bliss, Kirsten concluded miserably. She’d known it in her heart all along and now she’d been proved right.

Why couldn’t she be pink-faced and apple-cheeked like the women on all of those reality TV shows, who could keep their husbands through their culinary expertise and their ability to wave Cif Cream Cleaner like a magic wand? She’d tried everything. The way to Tyler’s heart was not through his stomach, it wasn’t even through his genitals. And now she’d run out of vital organs to try. She was beginning to wonder why she had ever made so much effort in the first place, as she doubted whether her husband even had a heart.

Now she’d be free of him and could wear whatever pants she liked. It was a small step towards independence, all things considered, but the thought cheered her greatly.

She stared at the stars, shimmering steadfastly in the blackness of the night. That was what Simon was. A bright pinprick of light in the darkness of her life. And now he’d dropped back so, so casually on to the scene. It was as if he’d never been away. Her heart seemed to have taken up exactly where it had left off a decade ago.

How would Tyler cope with Simon as his boss? No doubt he’d be even more unbearable to work for, and she pitied his poor staff. Even Louise. Despite their illicit relationship, she’d probably take the brunt of it. Well, good luck to her. That’s what the girl had stupidly signed up for.

Kirsten sighed and hugged herself. It had been so wonderful to see Simon again. Her eyes filled with tears just thinking about him. She dared not even let herself dwell on it. Wasn’t it supposed to be bad pennies that turned up again, not good ones? It was just as well she’d ripped up his business card, otherwise she’d be sorely tempted to call him. Simon would know what to say. Simon would know how to put everything right.

She scanned the immense driveway, but there was still no sign of her taxi. Surely it would be here soon?

Her phone rang and she saw from the display that it was Tyler. There was nothing she wanted to say to her husband, so she let it go to voicemail. A moment later a text pinged in from him too. She didn’t even look at it. Nothing Tyler could say or do would change her mind this time. From this day forward, the less she had to do with him the better.

And what of Simon? Where was he? Had he already left the party?

She’d loved him so much that her heart had been filled by him. But ten years on she wondered what love was. She wasn’t sure she had a definition for it any more, or believed in its vain promises, invariably broken. It certainly wasn’t the stuff romantic novelists churned out.

Love wasn’t running hand-in-hand along a deserted beach, candlelit dinners for two, or rampant sex every night complete with multiple orgasms that required you to be peeled off the ceiling, faint with ecstasy, afterwards. Love was producing edible meals night after relentless night, and rowing about the children you’d borne together. It was struggling to pay the bills, keeping the paintwork on the windows from peeling, and mowing the lawn. It was squeezing lovemaking into the daily grind rather than spending all day in bed in a haze of sated delight. It was doing all those things and still, at the end of the day, being each other’s best friend in life, each other’s bedrock. That was the sort of love she could have had with Simon, she was certain. Their love was grounded, real, it would have deepened, developed into something solid and sure. It would have become the ordinary, day-in-day-out kind of love, the sort that makes marriages last for twenty, thirty, forty years. The kind of love that she and Tyler had never managed to achieve.

Kirsten was startled by the thought. Perhaps she’d been out of love with Tyler for a lot longer than she’d realised. Their marriage ended here and now. That was her vow and this time she’d keep it. She was leaving him and it felt as if a weight that she’d been carrying around for years had been lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt as light and free as one of the snowflakes that were falling all around her.

Kirsten felt as if she should cry, but bizarrely she wanted to laugh. Holding out a hand, she caught a snowflake and watched it melt on her open palm. That was what she felt for Tyler now. Somehow, just like the snowflake, he was melting away, disappearing to nothing in an instant.

There would be a painful aftermath. Of that she had no doubt. Tyler wouldn’t let her go lightly. He’d make it as difficult as possible for her to divorce him. It might not be that he still wanted her, but he’d hate to feel as if he was losing anything.