Strictly Love, page 21
‘That is a slur,’ said Rob, trying to defend himself, then having the oddest feeling that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, when he tried to stand up he didn't have two legs to stand on and he slumped to the floor. He looked up to see Jim and John looking down at him.
‘Did you mean to do that?’ asked Jim – or maybe it was John
– with interest. Rob glared at them and tried to get up, but didn't seem to be able to.
‘Do you know, Jim,’ said John, ‘I don't think he did.’
‘I think you're right, John old boy,’ said Jim, laughing. ‘Do you need a hand, Rob?’
‘I'm fine.’ Rob gathered what remained of his dignity, pulled himself up and went to powder his nose. Moments later he was back with a vengeance. ‘And another thing –’ In the toilets he'd been hit by a blinding revelation. ‘I'm giving up on women.’
‘Me too,’ said Mark moodily. ‘They're bad for my health.’
‘I'll second that,’ said John, whose wife had left him for a limbo-dancing tattooist.’Women. They‘ve caused me nothing but trouble.’
‘I'll third it,’ said Jim, who'd never had a wife in the first place.
Dicey Derek nodded from the corner. ‘Women, who needs ‘em?’ he said. Derek's wife hadn't left him, yet, but rumour had it she was about to.
‘It's all their fault,’ chipped in Paranoid Pete, who would score highest in a least-likely-to–get-a-woman-this-decade competition. ‘Take my advice. You should never ever trust a woman.’
‘Oh my god,’ said Rob, looking around him and seeing his future all too clearly. He buried his head in his hands. ‘We're living that bloody song already. I'm not sure I can take any more.’
‘Hello, Marilyn?’ Katie felt the usual mixture of nerves and irritation that always accompanied phone calls to her mother in law. Doyenne of the local WI, Ladies’ Captain of the golf club, leading light in the bridge club, organiser of charitable works, and naturally a paid-up blue-rinse member of the local Conservative party, Katie couldn't think of anyone she would rather not call for a chat.
The first time Katie had ever met her, over ten years ago now, newly pregnant with George (but sadly, in Marilyn's eyes, as yet unmarried to Charlie), Marilyn had looked her up and down as if appraising a prize racehorse. Katie had half-expected Marilyn to examine her teeth.
‘Of course, the new arrival will be in illustrious company,’ Marilyn had brayed when she'd got over the shock that she was to have an illegitimate grandchild, and proceeded to take Katie through the family tree, which could trace Caldwells back to the time of William the Conqueror and included a branch of the family said to be descended from Pitt the Younger.
Katie was left in no doubt that she had entered a family steeped in power, money and influence. She had as yet to recover from the sense of disadvantage that this realisation had engendered in her. Charlie, of course, missed such nuances, thinking Katie oversensitive when she mentioned that his mother made her feel inadequate. But she knew she wasn't imagining the disappointment that Marilyn felt in her son's choice of bride. For all Charlie's protestations, even after all these years she felt like a fish out of water, with their talk of stocks and shares, houses in Tuscany, the cost of public schools and expensive skiing holidays.
‘Katie, how delightful to hear from you.’ To Katie's over sensitive ears, it sounded as if her mother-in-law was anything but delighted. ‘We so rarely see you these days.’
Biting back a retort that they had in fact paid a visit to the ancestral mansions deep in the heart of Sussex a mere two weeks ago (in fact they were lucky if a month went by without a visit taking place), Katie forced herself to smile and say, ‘I've been thinking about Charlie's fortieth, and I was just wondering if you were free on the first Saturday in August. It's the nearest weekend to Charlie's birthday, and I thought it would be nice to organise a party. He's been working so hard recently, I thought I'd do it for him as a surprise.’
‘That sounds wonderful, dear,’ said Marilyn. ‘Let me just see …’ There was a pause while she clearly consulted her calendar. ‘Yes, I think Stephen and I are free, I'll make a note of it. Would you like me to let the rest of the family know?’
‘Er, yes, that would be great,’ said Katie. ‘Although I was thinking of something quite small.’ Charlie wasn't big on birthdays and she didn't want to crowd him.
‘And have you thought of a venue?’ asked Marilyn, ‘because I'm sure I can organise something at the golf club.’
‘Oh, I was thinking of –’ Katie began.
‘Leave it to me, dear,’ Marilyn interrupted. ‘We'll invite the Price-Joneses of course, and the Pritchards. Let me know who you want out of Charlie's friends and I'll do the rest from here.’
‘Er, thanks,’ said Katie, ‘but –’
‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Marilyn, ‘I'll get on to it right away.’
Katie put the phone down with a heavy heart. It wasn't what she'd intended at all, but Marilyn wasn't used to resistance, and Katie knew better than to try.
‘I suppose at least for once she's pleased with me,’ Katie told Emily after the latter had dropped in on the way home from work. ‘I can't ever recall her saying that before.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Emily asked, as she helped Katie to pick up the mess of toys the boys had left on the lounge floor, ‘only you seem a bit hyped up.’
‘Do I?’ Katie replied. She sighed and stared out of the window at her perfect garden. She looked around her perfect (once it was tidy) lounge, and thought about her perfect life. It seemed like such an effort to keep it all going, and she badly wanted to confide in Emily that the whole thing was becoming more and more of a sham, but where to begin? Once she started talking she might never stop.
‘I'm just tired,’ said Katie. ‘Charlie's away such a lot, and we have so little time together. That's why I decided on the party. I thought it would be a nice surprise. I just hope I can wrest some control back from my mother-in-law.’
Emily laughed. ‘You're making me glad I don't have one,’ she said.
‘Well, that's probably about to change,’ said Katie. ‘You'll be meeting Mark's mum before too long.’
Now it was Emily's turn to look wistful.
‘I don't think that's going to happen now,’ she said. ‘We‘ve split up.’
‘Oh, Emily,’ said Katie, ‘what's happened? You seemed so happy at the weekend.’
‘We were,’ said Emily, and then proceeded to explain her dilemma.
‘I don't know what to say,’ Katie told her, getting up to pick up a toy truck she'd just spotted under the bookshelf. ‘But honestly, can you really sit there and do that to Mark?’
‘I don't want to,’ said Emily. ‘Of course I don't. But I need the money and I'm not sure I'll get another job that pays as well. It's the old golden handcuffs thing. They rope you in, get you hooked, pay you fantastically well, and then you look around and think, yikes, I can't afford to change jobs. Besides, I have to pay back Mam's loan as well. I can't let her down.’
‘Don't you think,’ said Katie carefully, plumping up a cushion before she sat down again, ‘that it's about more than money? What about principles?’
‘What are they?’ Emily looked bleak. ‘I think I lost the right to have principles the day I started this job. And I'm not sure I'll ever get them back.’
* * *
‘Oh for fuck's sake.’
Mark was beyond livid. He and Rob had spent the weekend on the wildest bender he'd had since his student days, his head was thumping and he was feeling like death warmed up. And now Rob had brought in the Sunday papers, and there, plastered all over the News of the Screws, was a story about Twinkletoes Tony with a mysterious blonde friend. Pages and pages seemed to be devoted to their shagathon sessions, which wouldn't have mattered at all, but the story was linked to Jasmine's troubles, and thereby led to him. They had even found a picture of him. It was from his student days and depicted him with spiky gelled hair wearing a loud striped shirt, and good God, was he wearing braces? Mark was only grateful that although it made him look like a goofy idiot, it was unlikely that anyone would recognise him from it.
But shit. He was in the Sunday papers, damn it. Through no fault of his own, but he knew how people's minds worked. They'd think him guilty of a breach of patient confidentiality just because he'd been in the papers, linked with the likes of Tony and Jasmine, both of whom would probably sell their grandmother to keep their spot in the limelight. His reputation could only suffer by association. Besides, Mark had an abhorrence of publicity. He preferred to keep his life private and out of sight. It appalled him that his name had been mentioned in the papers, even if only briefly.
The phone rang, and when he went to answer it his rage turned to ice-cold fury. Logically he knew it wasn't Emily's fault his picture was in the papers, but he wasn't feeling logical today, just hung over and angry.
‘Oh, it's you,’ he said. ‘I hope you're proud of yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’ Emily sounded subdued.
‘Have you seen the papers today? Thanks to your lot I'm splashed all over the Sundays.’
‘Oh, Mark, I'm so sorry,’ Emily said. It sounded genuine, and, for a moment, Mark softened. But then he looked back down at the paper. Even if Emily had had nothing to do with it, the people she worked for had. She, too, was guilty by association.
‘I'll believe that when you tell me you're not taking this case,’ said Mark.
There was a pause and what could have been a sob.
‘Mark, you know I don't want to do this,’ said Emily, ‘but I don't have a choice.’
‘Everyone has a choice,’ said Mark. ‘It's whether you make the right one or not.’
‘You're so bloody black and white,’ said Emily. ‘Don't you ever live in shades of grey?’
‘Not when my job's on the line,’ Mark replied. ‘Which, thanks to this case, it is.’
‘And mine's on the line if I don't take the case,’ said Emily. ‘Can't you see how hard that is?’
‘You could get another job if you wanted to,’ Mark argued.
‘And you could understand my position if you wanted to,’ said Emily.
Mark stood for a minute holding the phone in his hand, with the feeling that what happened next would be irrevocable.
‘You know I can't do that,’ he said, the rage suddenly draining away, leaving him with a painful sadness.
‘And neither can I,’ said Emily. ‘I'm sorry.’
She put the phone down but Mark held on to his end, unwilling to break the connection. He leaned back against the wall, unable to comprehend the gulf that had grown between them so quickly, and wondering if he would ever see a way to bridge it.
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Marky, babe, was that you I saw in the papers last week?’
Mark groaned. He might have known that Spike Sutcliffe, his erstwhile friend from dental school, would have read about him in the tabloids. Spike had never been one for reading the broadsheets.
‘Don't,’ said Mark. ‘I rue the day I ever set eyes on Jasmine Symonds.’
‘So she's not a good lay then?’ asked Spike.
‘Do shut up,’ said Mark. ‘Are you ringing to remind me about Gorgeous Gus's stag weekend?’
Gorgeous Gus had borne the brunt of most of the mickey-taking in Mark's student days. He was a grade-A student who was also incredibly good looking, hence his epithet. Everyone should have hated him, but, annoyingly, Gus was also a good laugh, and a decent sport about the ribbing. Remarkably, he had escaped the marriage market so far, but now it was his turn to walk up the aisle, and some time back Spike had rung Mark to ensure that he joined in the fun. ‘It will be a good reason to get the old gang back together,’ he'd said, and at the time Mark had agreed. Now, with the current chaos, Mark was looking forward to a complete break from everything.
‘You can still make it, can't you?’ Spike reeled off a list of the other attendees. It seemed like most of Mark's year were going to be there. ‘We're going kart racing in the morning and then we'll paint the town red that night.’
‘Sounds great,’ said Mark. ‘I've arranged that Sam will have the kids this weekend. I have to say I am really looking forward to it.’
‘Do you think it's a good idea to keep this party a surprise from Charlie?’
Katie's mum had called round unexpectedly to find Katie compiling lists and sorting out invitations. Katie was furious. Mum never just popped in, so why was she here now? Katie had barely had time to sweep up the mass of Molly's toys that were littering the lounge floor. She hated being wrong-footed. Why hadn't her mum rung first? And now she was sitting opining about things she knew nothing about, and getting dangerously close to topics Katie would have preferred to ignore.
‘Of course,’ said Katie. ‘I'm sure he'll be delighted. From what Marilyn tells me half the Caldwell clan will be there, and I've managed to track down most of his school and university friends. I think it will be just what he needs. He works so hard.’
‘Yes, doesn't he,’ said her mum drily.
‘What's that supposed to mean?’ Katie was well versed in her mother's subtleties. She knew her mother hadn't called round accidentally. There was a reason for this visit.
‘Nothing,’ said her mum. ‘I'm just wondering if Charlie always has to work quite as hard as he says.’
‘Of course he does,’ said Katie. ‘Whatever gave you the idea he didn't?’
‘It's only that I ran into him the other week up in town.’ Her mum looked distinctly uncomfortable.
‘And?’ said Katie. ‘Charlie works in town.’
‘Well, it was the night you'd asked me to babysit because Charlie was working late and you were dancing and I couldn't,’ said Mum. ‘I was on my way back from a meeting and I saw Charlie. And it looked very much to me as if he were heading for the pub.’
Katie felt herself go cold all over. She remembered the night in question. Charlie had sprung an I‘m-sorry-I-have-to-work-late on her. It was just before the weekend away, and Katie had felt so guilty about going away she'd said nothing about it. Her mum had been unable to babysit so she'd cried off.
‘So?’ asked Katie. ‘Part of Charlie's job is to entertain clients.’
‘If you say so.’ Katie could hear the scepticism in her mother's voice and she understood where it was coming from. And the thing was, Charlie had told her that his meeting had only finished at nine. If he had lied about that, what else was he lying about?
Katie swallowed hard, and tried to portray a nonchalance she didn't really feel.
‘They had a dinner early in the evening that night. Charlie told me all about it.’
‘Right.’ Her mother looked unconvinced. ‘Only you would tell me, wouldn't you, if there was anything wrong?’
‘There's nothing wrong,’ Katie said firmly. ‘And Charlie is going to have the best birthday ever. I'm going to make sure of that.’
‘Well, if you're sure …’
‘Sure,’ said Katie. ‘Everything is fine. Now why don't you play with Molly while I sort us out a cup of tea?’
Katie walked into the kitchen but her head was spinning. Charlie had lied to her. But why?
Emily was feeling a distinct sense of relief. Mark's court case had been adjourned, which meant, for the moment at least, she didn't need to think about it, or him. Perhaps she could have enough breathing space to extricate herself from this mess, by trying to sort out her finances enough so she could look at getting another job. It wasn't just Jasmine's case that had got her down, it was most of the work she had to do. The majority of her clients were people who were in the public eye for nothing more important than being in a soap, or having once appeared on the X Factor. They were constantly unhappy with their lot, and suing papers for scurrilous stories on the one hand, while on the other rushing out and making sure their faces were constantly photographed. Either that or they were being charged with possession of drugs, or of drink driving, or of happy-slapping. It was all so tawdry and tedious. And the more Emily worked on these cases, the more she felt she was struggling in primeval slime. Interviewing Jasmine had been a case in point.
‘You are going to get ‘im for me, aren't you?’ she'd said. Emily had made her go through her statement again, and elicited the welcome information that Mark had actually warned her that the tooth would have to come out eventually (a fact borne out by the case notes that Mark's frosty-sounding case manager had sent her), but she was sticking to the rest of the story like glue.
‘It ‘ad to be Mr Davies,’ she said. ‘He was the only one wot knew. He's ruined my life, and he threatened me.’
‘What? When?’ Emily looked up in alarm at this.
‘We went round to tell him what's what, didn't we?’ Jasmine's spiteful mother, Kayla, who had tagged along with her, said. She spat venom with every breath, and Emily felt polluted by her presence.
‘Well, that was rather foolish,’ Emily replied, drawing a deep breath. Reading between the lines, she'd bet anything it was Jasmine and Kayla who'd done the threatening. ‘Presumably you have witnesses to Mr Davies’ behaviour? Would you like to register a formal complaint about that too?’
‘Oh no, no.’ Jasmine obviously realised the implications of what she'd said and backtracked wildly. ‘Just make sure we get him for the confidingly thing,’ she said, and Emily had had to promise she would.
How on earth had she got herself into this mess? Working on cases like this? When Emily started out it had been so different. She'd wanted to work on compensation cases, certainly, but the ones she'd wanted to do had involved people whose lives had been blighted by tragedy because of reckless firms who'd played fast and loose with safety considerations, or those where someone in charge had failed in a duty of care and as a result ordinary people had been hurt. It was people like her dad she'd wanted to help. And now here she was, helping people like Jasmine. She didn't blame Mark for hating her. Self-loathing was fairly high on her own agenda right now.
