What She Wants (79 page)

time at home; my dad’s sick, and I don’t need hassle at work too. You used to be so lovely to work for, you were nice,’ she added accusingly. Sam still said nothing; she couldn’t. Shock had made her speechless. ‘Lately, you’ve turned into a bitch,’ Lydia said, determined to get it all out now she’d started. Be honest in life, her favourite self-help book had said. So she was going to be honest. ‘Everyone said you were tough and a bit of a bitch but I never found you like that,’ Lydia went on. ‘You had to work hard but I knew that was because women have to work harder to be recognized. I understood that and I admired you.’ The waiter laid their lunch in front of them but neither woman noticed. ‘But lately I can’t do anything right. For the last month, you’ve just snapped at me like I’m some sort of skivvy. There’s no need for it. And now you’re being nice to me and I feel so awful…’ Two large tears plopped onto Lydia’s untouched carbonara. Guilt and shame fought for supremacy in Sam’s heart and shame won. There she was accusing her boss of harassment, when she’d been guilty of harassment herself. So, she hadn’t tried to flirt with poor Lydia, but she may as well have. Her bad temper had had the effect of making her impossible to work with. How could she have been so awful? She reached over and patted Lydia’s hand. ‘I am so, so sorry, Lydia,’ she said earnestly. ‘I had no idea you felt this way and I feel so ashamed of myself. I…’ she stopped, ‘I want to excuse myself by saying that things have been pretty awful in my life recently but that’s no excuse.’ She stared down at her plate. ‘You’re a great assistant, you make me laugh and you never seem to be in a bad mood about anything, and I repaid you by taking my misery out on you.’

I

She’d never felt more ashamed in her life. ‘I can’t say how sorry I am and I’ll talk to personnel and explain that your leaving was absolutely my fault.’

Lydia shook her head. ‘But why didn’t you tell me you were going through a bad time?’ she demanded, red-eyed. ‘I’m on your side, we’re a team. I could have helped.’

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ Sam said. ‘I did what I always do when I’m down: pull up the drawbridge like an embattled fortress and settle in for a long siege. I never want anyone to help me, I won’t let them.’

‘That’s stupid,’ said Lydia forcefully. ‘We all need friends, nobody can do it all on their own.’ She squeezed her boss’s hand. ‘I really am sorry, Lydia, and I mean it about talking to personnel. It’s my fault you’re leaving and I owe it to you to make sure personnel know too.’

Lydia dug her fork into her carbonara. ‘Ah, forget about it. I’ll tell them I was having a bad day and don’t want to move after all.’

Sam looked down at her lunch but knew she couldn’t touch it now. ‘No, Lydia, don’t, please. I don’t know if I] can do this job any more. I’m tired of having to be tough, I’m tired of working all hours and having no life.’ There, she’d finally said it. ‘It’s turning me into someone I don’t like.’ She laughed mirthlessly. ‘It’s turning me into someone that nobody likes.’

‘Now that’s plain daft, if you don’t mind me saying it,’ Lydia said firmly. ‘I like you - lots of people at Titus like you. You’re straight as a die, you don’t expect people to suck up to you and you’re fair.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Lydia, especially since I’ve been the bitch from hell for the last month, but I mean it. I think I’ve got to move on. Please don’t say that to anyone in the office.’

‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ Lydia said indignantly. ‘But I think you’re mad. You’ve got such a great career.’

‘A great career and no friends because I’m turning into a

fortress,’ Sam said ruefully. ‘Ms Smith locked in her office on the fifth floor. There’s got to be more to life than a big salary and a pension plan, Lydia. By the time I’m ready to collect the pension, all the life will have been squeezed out of me and I won’t have the energy to spend it. I really think I need to get out of the rat race.’ ‘Downshifting, they call it. Less money for less work and more life. Can’t see the attraction myself,’ Lydia commented. ‘Yes, but you’re twenty-three, Lydia. I’m forty. I’ve been working like an indentured slave most of my life and I have nothing to show for it except my own office stationery and a personal assistant who wants to be moved because I’m such a cow to work with.’ ‘Sorry,’ Lydia said. ‘You’re not the one who has to be sorry,’ Sam said firmly. ‘That’s my fault and I’ll apologize again. Thank you for having the guts to tell me.’ Lydia laughed. ‘It wasn’t easy,’ she admitted. ‘You’re no pushover.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ Sam groaned. ‘Anyway, enough of this. Tell me about your poor dad. What’s wrong with him?’ They got back to the office at half two, Lydia cheered up by both the talk and two glasses of wine. Sam was cheerful on the surface but underneath, she felt numb. She was repelling people left, right and centre. She left work early and phoned Hope, who was making fairy cakes with the children helping with the icing. ‘Don’t eat it all, Millie,’ Hope could be heard saying. ‘You’ll be sick.’ ‘Won’t,’ said Millie defiantly. ‘Pink icing is more enticing than cabbage, there’s no doubt about it,’ Hope groaned. The sisters chatted idly for a few moments. ‘Can I ask you a question, Hope?’ Sam said. ‘Sure.’ ‘How do you define yourself?’ ‘That’s not a question, that’s an essay,’ laughed her sister.

‘Yourself: define and discuss. I can see Miss Marsh giving us an essay like that in English.’ Sam chuckled. ‘Miss Marsh wasn’t an English teacher, she was a frustrated psychiatrist. The hidden meanings she got out of Hamlet … No wonder I refused to do an arts degree, I couldn’t have coped with all the analysis. That wasn’t what I meant, Hope, about defining yourself.’ ‘What did you mean?’ ‘Well…’ Sam hesitated, trying to find the right words. ‘I’ve always defined myself by my job. When I was in marketing, that was me: Marketing Executive.’ Hope interrupted. ‘That was what you did, not what you were. Millie, stop, put that spoon down. You’ll be sick.’ ‘Actually, no. That’s what I was. It was the same thing for me, you see. What I did was what I was.’ ‘You’re turning into Miss Marsh,’ said Hope jokily, sensing the conversation was getting deep and intense. ‘Exactly. Miss Marsh was a teacher, it was her whole life and didn’t you always feel that she had no other life outside the classroom? That being a teacher was everything for her?’ ‘Sort of,’ Hope replied. ‘What are you getting at, Sam?’ ‘You’re a mother and a wife…’ ‘Er … there’s a bit of doubt about the latter description,’ Hope said lightly. ‘OK, so you’re a mother, and a friend, you’re doing sterling work in the tourist office, and you meet people and go to the Macrame Club for fun, and renovate old kitchen chairs and rear hens who produce real eggs, and you make fairy cakes,’ Sam paused. ‘You’ve lots of different sides to you. Whereas me, I’m a businesswoman and I’m nothing else. I’ve spent my life defining myself by my job and it’s not enough. When I retire, there’ll be nothing left. Like a balloon with no air inside.’ ‘You’re hardly going to retire just yet?’ ‘No, but I can’t keep doing this the rest of my life, I’ll burn out. And what then? Burnt out exec in chichi flat with two cats, lots of office clothes and an ulcer.’

‘Cheer up, it’s not that bad, is it?’

Sam sighed and said nothing.

‘It’s Morgan, isn’t it?’ Hope asked. ‘I thought you were getting over him. You’ve got over guys before.’

‘This is different,’ Sam said sadly. ‘I never saw a future with any of the other men. Even Karl. We had fun but I never looked further forward than the next few dates or the next weekend away. Planning a month ahead seemed like a big deal. I mean, who knew what you were going to be doing in a month. Morgan was different.’ Even saying his name hurt. ‘I never thought I wanted that togetherness thing but after meeting Morgan, I know I do. And I screwed it all up. Go on, tell me it’s my fault,’ she said gloomily.

Hope sighed. ‘As if I’m going to give you romantic advice. Me, the woman on her own with two small children, six hens and a family of rats at the back of the yard and …’ She stopped, wondering if this was the moment to mention that she was pregnant.

‘You still have rats?’ asked Sam.

‘Either that, or aliens keep landing down by the beech tree frightening the hens every night. Those bloody rodents actually seem to like rat poison. I’ve a good mind to get a gun and shoot them.’

‘When you’re finished with it, will you lend it to me so I can shoot myself in the foot properly.’

‘Sam!’ chided Hope.

‘Well, I spend my life shooting myself in the foot.’

‘Stop being so negative. It’s not like you, Sam.’

‘I’m having a “not like me” sort of day,’ Sam pointed out. ‘I think I’m going to leave my job.’

‘Good,’ said Hope.

‘Good? I thought you’d be shocked!’

‘Why would I be shocked? If you didn’t work all the hours, maybe I’d see more of you. That bloody job is killing you.’

‘Oh,’ said Sam, utterly taken aback. She’d imagined that Hope was so proud of her sister’s fabulous job, like a

satisfied mother who loved seeing her offspring in such a position of power. She could hardly say this, though, because she now realized that the only person who was deeply proud of her job was herself. As if reading her thoughts, Hope spoke again. ‘I’d be proud of you no matter what you did, Sam. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I know you’re clever and talented and oh, loads of other things. You’ve proved it, now you can stop proving it and try another sort of life.’ Sam had to fumble blindly for a tissue. ‘I do want another sort of life,’ she gulped. ‘But I couldn’t tell anyone.’ ‘I know,’ Hope said comfortingly. ‘It’s like spending ages driving on a winding road and finally managing to overtake the car that’s been crawling along at thirty miles an hour and then almost immediately, you realize you have to stop for petrol or something and you don’t want to. It’s like you’ll have to give up all the ground you gained and you can’t bear to do it. But who’s watching, who cares? Nobody but you.’ ‘You’re very wise, you know that?’ Hope laughed heartily. ‘Thank you. I spent years thinking I was an idiot and couldn’t do anything without asking advice or getting the go-ahead from someone else, but you know, over the past few months, I’ve begun to realize that I’m not an idiot. Just lacking in self-belief. Delphine jokes that the two of us should set ourselves up as a telephone agony aunt service: problemsRus.’ ‘I’d owe you a fortune, then,’ said Sam with a grin. ‘Don’t write the cheque just yet. I don’t think it’s very professional to go into a counselling business advising other people when your own life is totally messed up,’ Hope said ruefully. ‘Why can’t you and Matt sort it out? You know you’re both crazy about each other, just tell him and stop playing Ms Ice Queen on the phone with him.’ ‘I’m not playing Ice Queen,’ Hope pointed out. the is or

Jack Frost, anyway. I tried to tell him the truth in the beginning and he wouldn’t listen to me.’

‘That was his pride speaking. He was hurt,’ protested Sam. ‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.’

‘We’re a right pair, aren’t we?’ Hope agreed. ‘Anyway, he’s coming over here in a fortnight to take the children back to Bath for a week. I hate the thought of them being away from me for so long. He’s bringing them back on a Saturday morning, which is the day of Delphine’s wedding, by the way, and you’re invited. Millie’s being a flower girl. I’m worried she may hit the other flower girl over the head with her posy.’

‘Delphine’s sweet to invite me,’ Sam said, touched. ‘Should I come?’

‘Of course, I’d love to see you. It would be nice…’ Hope’s voice trailed off. It was now or never. ‘Sam, you’re going to kill me but I’ve something to tell you.’

‘What?’

‘I’m pregnant.’

There was a long silence.

‘It’s Mart’s baby, Sam,’ said Hope in exasperation. ‘Honestly, I told you nothing happened between Christy and me.’

‘Sorry, love. That’s wonderful but does Matt know?’

‘No.’

‘Hope, you’ve got to tell him. He’s a right to know, no matter what’s been happening.’

‘I’ll tell him,’ Hope said. ‘In my own time.’

Nicole looked around the Titus Records reception area and marvelled at the change; not in the reception, but in her. The first time she’d come here, only months ago, she’d been nervous and shy, feeling out of place amongst all the movers and shakers. Now, she was one of them. She was Nicole, an artist in her own right with a single just about to be released and plenty of excellent reviews for her work on tour.

‘Hi Nicole,’ said Lydia, Sam’s assistant, who appeared to take Nicole upstairs to join Sam before lunch.

‘Hi Lydia,’ Nicole replied.

As they walked off, Nicole noticed the receptionist look at her enviously. It wasn’t Lydia she was looking at, it was Nicole. Clad in designer clothes, with her coppery hair styled beautifully, Nicole was indeed someone to stare after enviously. The feline face with the high cheekbones now graced billboards around the city.

‘You’re really famous now,’ Sharon had said to her the other night as they trekked around looking at apartments. They’d both been astonished to see a huge poster of Nicole in the underground station.

‘Does this mean you won’t share a flat with me, then?’ Nicole had demanded.

Sharon gaped at her and then burst into tears.

‘I thought you were a bit fed up at home,’ Nicole said.

‘I am,’ Sharon sobbed. ‘It’s just that I never thought we’d actually do it, now that you’re a big star and everything.’ Nicole hugged her. ‘I’m not a big star yet, for the record,’ she said, ‘and ever since we joined Copperplate, we’ve talked about getting a place of our own. This is finally it.’

‘What about Darius?’ asked Sharon anxiously.

‘He might stay over sometimes,’ Nicole said with a mischievous smile. ‘When we feel like letting him, that is.’

In the lift at Titus, Nicole wondered if she’d bump into Darius. He wasn’t going to lunch with them: it was just Sam and Nicole because Nicole wanted to ask Sam’s advice.

‘Sam will be with you in two minutes,’ Lydia said, leaving Nicole alone in Sam’s office. Sam swept in a few minutes later, looking coolly elegant.

‘Hi Nicole,’ she said, kissing her new star’s cheek. ‘Are you ready to go?’