The Christmas Party (32 page)

Tyler looked askance at the ladder. It might be the ground floor, but it was still a long way up and there were a lot of prickly shrubs between him and
terra firma
. ‘I can manage myself.’

‘No can do,’ Dale said. ‘Health and safety. I have to carry you.’

‘Never.’

‘It’ll all be over in a minute.’

Yet Tyler knew that it would take him a lifetime to live this down.

Dale stepped up on to the windowsill. Tyler’s heart went into overdrive, racing furiously. ‘I could break my neck.’

‘You’re in safe hands.’ With that he swung them both on to the ladder and started his slow descent.

When the staff realised what was happening, a massive cheer went up. Every jolting step down the ladder was agony and the cut across his waist was stinging with pain. He could feel his gentleman’s tackle squashed against Dale’s shoulder while a chill winter breeze played delicately over his bare arse. On top of that he could hear the fireman panting heavily beneath him. It was the most disconcerting and distressing experience he’d ever had.

Then, as he neared the ground, Dale handed him over to two of his waiting colleagues and the cheers morphed into wolf whistling. His shame was now complete and there was nothing to protect him.

The fireman placed him upright, went to brush him down, then thought better of it. Tyler stood stock still and bore it all stoically.

‘There’s a blanket in the engine, mate,’ one said as he glanced down at Tyler. ‘I’ll get it for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Tyler said. ‘I’m very grateful.’ He hoped they understood sarcasm.

In so many ways, this had been the worst night of his life, and he suspected it wasn’t over yet. He still had to find and placate Kirsten. His eyes scanned the sniggering crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was a shame for her she wasn’t here to witness this. How she would have enjoyed seeing him suffer.

Thank goodness there was only one day left in the office before the Christmas break. He normally hated this time of the year, but now he couldn’t wait to get away from Fossil Oil for a few days of rest and recuperation. He just wanted to be at home with Kirsten, getting very, very drunk.

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses reverberated in his ears. They would pay. They would all pay.

Dale came over to him. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’

‘I guess it all depends on your perspective,’ Tyler replied.

The fireman took off his yellow helmet and, with a glance down at Tyler’s manhood, said, ‘You might want to use this. It’s a cold night.’

‘No, thank you,’ Tyler said.

With all the dignity he could muster Tyler held his head high, stood tall and, ignoring the childish titters and catcalls, strolled as casually as he could manage towards the waiting fire engine.

Chapter Forty-four

Upstairs again, Melissa tiptoed round the bedroom. Goodness knew why: it would have been possible to run the vacuum cleaner and play the radio at full blast in the same room and still not have woken Lance. She knew that, because in the past she’d tried it. But somehow, under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate to tiptoe. It would be difficult to have Lance awake while she packed her entire life into two reasonably sized suitcases and left him for ever. He was still in the same place, spreadeagled on the bed, half dressed. She stared down at him. Over thirty years with him and it had come to this.

Melissa wasn’t sure what to do next. The speed and spontaneity of her decision had left her slightly light-headed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about leaving Lance, of course she had. But she’d never really believed that she would.

Where could she go? What could she do? She might not intend to go to Washington, but she thought she’d take her airline ticket anyway. Perhaps she could exchange it, maybe fly back to New York and make a new life for herself. She still had a few friends there. Though how fair-weather they were, she didn’t know. She had her credit card too, but she wondered how long it would be before Lance stopped her spending on it. He wouldn’t take kindly to her leaving.

She tried to be as practical as possible. Sensible clothes rather than evening dresses, except for her favourite one. Racks of designer gowns in every hue faced her. There was a good chance that she might not need those again. After all, New York society might not be as welcoming without Lance attached to her arm. She didn’t know what status – if any – the ex-wife of an ex-chairman would carry. At the moment, it didn’t seem to matter. All that concerned her was that she should get away while she still had a modicum of sanity and self-respect left.

Melissa emptied the contents of her jewellery box on to the dressing table, the array of diamond-encrusted baubles clattering noisily across the glass surface. A quick glance at the bed told her that Lance slept on, blissfully unaware. Melissa surveyed the jewels dispassionately. There was one for every occasion – each anniversary, birthday, Christmas, the births of the children – each growing bigger and more glittering as the years passed. What would she have been given for her thirtieth anniversary, if she’d stayed that long?

Were they happier when they were just starting out together and had nothing but their love to sustain them? Is this what she’d ever envisaged for her future – a wealth of material goods, but a terrible emptiness at her core?

She pushed a ring on to each finger. Fingers that were showing a slight thickening of the knuckles due to the onset of arthritis and the telltale faint brown spots that speak of age as surely as grey hairs and wrinkles. They reflected perfectly what she’d been to Lance. A bauble. Bright, shiny and expensive, for decorative purposes only. An oversized pair of earrings followed, clipped to her ears to weigh them down with pain. They were too big, the proportions all wrong for her small face. She should have realised that years ago.

Spreading an array of gold chains over her hand, she selected three and fastened them round her neck, then draped two bracelets on each wrist. It looked vulgar, but she didn’t care. Today she would wear as many gaudy, glittery things as she could to remind her of the years she’d been viewed as nothing but a convenient ornament. Now they might belong to her past, but they would help to pay for her future. She’d done so much for Fossil Oil. She’d been the one behind Lance, supporting him, helping to make his toughest decisions, giving him some of his best ideas. Left to their own devices, all he and Bud Harman had managed to cook up was this stupid SACKED programme. God help them both. If Lance had run that by her first, she’d never have given it breathing space. Yet what did she have to show for it? Well, these things could count as wages owed. She’d been at the coalface alongside Lance all along and she’d damn well earned them. She scooped the rest of her jewellery into a black velvet bag and tucked it securely into her vanity case.

Lance snuffled in his sleep like a hibernating hedgehog. How could she have stayed with him for so long, when all of his waking life was viewed through the bottom of a bourbon bottle? He was oblivious to everything else in his life. Even when he was stone-cold sober, which wasn’t often these days, he didn’t actually see her – really
see
her. It was probably just as well, considering. She’d never have been able to sleep with Tyler Benson if Lance had cared in the slightest where she was spending her time.

Melissa stacked her vanity case next to its matching siblings. She’d loved Tyler Benson,
really
loved him, in a way that she’d never loved Lance. She’d loved him hopelessly, obsessively. But he was a using bastard and she now hoped with every fibre of her being that he got all he deserved. She felt sorry for Kirsten too, who was innocent in all this mess. Melissa had the urge to ring Kirsten, to confess to her affair with Tyler and apologise for her appalling behaviour. Would it help if she could warn Kirsten that she was in grave danger of becoming an exact replica of herself in ten years’ time if she didn’t wise up and get rid of Tyler soon? She could call her and try to make it right between them. But then, who was she to dole out advice?

She put out a fresh suit and shirt for Lance to wear to the office tomorrow. Then she chose his neckwear, as she had done for the duration of their life together. After today, she’d do it no more and Lance would be left to choose his own ties.

The cases were heavy as she dragged them one at a time down the sweeping stairs of their London house. Martin came out of the kitchen when he heard her and took them from her hands.

They exchanged a glance.

‘Is that all, Mrs Harvey?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll put them straight in the car for you.’

‘Thank you, Martin. I’ll be out in a few moments.’

In the study, in the top drawer of the writing desk, Melissa found the two British Airways e-tickets that Veronica had printed out for Lance for the flight to Washington. Their passports were there too, and she tucked both of them into her handbag. If she couldn’t change her flight, this would delay Lance long enough to ensure he wasn’t on the same plane as her.

This was one room that she hadn’t had decorated for Christmas. Lance wouldn’t have liked the fuss. She searched through the plethora of tiny drawers in the walnut desk until she found some plain white paper. It didn’t seem quite right to use their own elaborately headed vellum for such a letter. Melissa sat at the desk and composed the note several times in her head before she finally picked up the fountain pen beside her. It was hard to know what to say to Lance – she didn’t think they’d had a conversation in the last few years. Not a real one, a conversation that was longer than ‘How was your day at the office today, honey?’ and the automatic reply ‘Fine, thank you, angel.’

Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure if she’d had a proper conversation with anyone since the boys had left.
They
talked to her all right. They begged, pleaded and cajoled her, trying to get her to leave Lance and find a life of her own. A life that would exist after them. Since the boys had flown the nest, her days had been made up of a series of drinks parties interspersed with bouts of needless shopping, empty of company except for mindless chatter over the champagne and canapés.

Would it be any different without Lance? It was a frightening thought. Her fear was that she was now so ingrained in the corporate lifestyle that she’d be unable to adapt to anything else. Did anyone out there value a person who was pushing the half-century from the wrong side? Maybe she could do some charity work, as she’d suggested earlier tonight. In a paid position, rather than as a volunteer. Heaven knew, she’d had enough experience at that too. Whatever happened, at least she was giving herself a chance to find out before it was too late. But perhaps it already was. That was something she might also have to face. Terror gripped her stomach. Life out in the cold wouldn’t be easy. She held the banister and steadied herself, gasping hot air into her lungs. There was still time to get Martin to bring the cases back into the house and unpack them without Lance being any the wiser.

What would her husband do without her? Lance leaned heavily on her. How would he manage at Fossil without her counsel? Would he suddenly be exposed as wanting? Who would have his back? It certainly wasn’t Tyler Benson as he’d believed.

The house would run itself, of course. That wasn’t a problem. They already had someone in to clean, do the laundry and tend the garden. Melissa cooked for him, after a fashion, but he could replace those duties easily enough. It was the small things she did at home that he’d miss. Choosing his cufflinks, buying his socks, covering up for him when he was completely incoherent.

The blank paper loomed before her, but she forced herself to write, pushing down the feeling of fear, of foreboding.

My dear Lance, I’m so sorry to do this
, she wrote in her fine, elaborate hand.
I’d hoped we’d grow old together and be a comfort to each other, but I can no longer stay
.

She paused to fight down the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Perhaps she should just wait for a few more days. It was Christmas, after all. Perhaps she could go to Washington with Lance, get him settled, and then leave. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She took some deep breaths and forced herself on.

I want to take the chance to make something of what’s left of my life before it’s too late
.

She hesitated on the next part, but her decision was made.

I’ve been having an affair with Tyler Benson
. Her pen shook as she wrote his name. To hell to handling this with dignity. She was taking Tyler Benson down. See how he liked being cast aside.

I know you’ll find this a devastating blow. You have trusted Tyler and you’ve been wrong to do so. I thought we were in love with each other, but I realise that wasn’t the case. He’s been using me to find out confidential information about Fossil Oil and I’ve been using him for my own infinitely more complex reasons. I wanted you to know this. Disloyalty in such trusted staff is almost as unforgivable as it is in a wife.

Lance would dismiss him immediately, and it was no more than he deserved.

I’m so very, very sorry to cause you pain. There’s more to life than Fossil Oil, my angel. I hope that somehow you’re able to work that out.

Make your peace with the boys before it’s too late. They would love a chance to be your sons. Be happy, Lance. I hope you’ll think kindly of me in the future when we’ve had time to make new lives for ourselves. I did love you so very much. I still do.

Melissa xx

She paused for the ink to dry and, before she could think better of it, folded the note and slipped it into a matching envelope. She wrote Lance’s name on the front and underlined it.

Melissa took the note through to the kitchen. The sky was lightening now, dawn well on its way, and yet she hadn’t been to bed at all. She felt wired, calm, shaky and still all at once.

Taking a bowl from the cupboard, Melissa poured some muesli into it and put it on the table, perfectly positioned in front of Lance’s preferred seat. Alongside it went a jug of skimmed-milk from the fridge. She poured a glass of ‘freshly squeezed’ orange from the Sainsbury’s container and set that down too. No one could say that she hadn’t tried to keep Lance healthy over the years, and she suspected she’d continue to worry about him even though she was leaving. She propped the goodbye note against his glass, fixing it just so. Lance would be furious when he came down. There was nothing he hated more than warm milk.