‘I don’t just miss her,’ Andrew says, ignoring everything I’ve just said. ‘I miss all of you. When I got that invitation to Celia’s party, it just brought it all home. You were my family for more than a decade.’ He gives me a sweet, lopsided smile. ‘You can’t blame me for wanting that back sometimes, can you?’
Bloody Celia, I think despairingly. This insane idea of hers to remind Andrew of what he’s missing might just work. In which case, God help us all.
Chapter 18
Louise
I know as soon as I board the train to London I’ve got it all wrong. I spent ages last night dithering over what to wear; at the university I could get away with jeans, and when I’m freelancing I frequently don’t make it out of my pyjamas, so it’s been years since I had to dress for a real job. I wanted to make sure I looked appropriately smart for a London advertising agency. In the end, I plumped for a black skirt suit from my early days at the Post that still just about fits, and a pair of heels. But most of the other women on the train are wearing trousers, not skirts, paired with ballet flats or loafers and chambray shirts or wrap blouses, effortlessly pulling off the business casual look. I’m about two decades out of date.
The commute from Brighton is a killer, too. It’s hot, the train is overcrowded and stuffy, and I can’t find a seat. I stand in the cramped corridor outside the packed carriage along with half a dozen other commuters, leaning against the back of the toilet compartment for balance. I can feel the sweat gathering beneath my breasts and trickling down my back.
When Chris first suggested the job at Whitefish a couple of days after our lunch the other week, I refused point blank even to consider it: I told her I’d rather beg on the streets than work with Caz.
‘You’ll hardly ever have to see her,’ Chris insisted. ‘You’ll only have to come up to London one day a week at most; the rest of the time you can work from home. And you’ll mostly be based at my Docklands office, not at Whitefish. You’ll need to liaise with the team there, of course, but you can use Caz’s assistant, AJ, as your go-to guy most of the time.’
Even though she was offering me more money than I’d earned in years, and the chance to undercut Caz in the one place she thought she was safe, I’d turned it down, because I hadn’t wanted to pour petrol on the flames and start an all-out war with the woman.
But then Caz got me fired. The letter from the head of the media department at Sussex was polite, but firm: I hadn’t disclosed my criminal record, and they had no choice but to cancel my contract for the upcoming academic year. The safety of our students … Extremely sorry, but we can’t risk it, not in this day and age. Our legal department, you know how it is.
Five minutes after I opened the envelope, I picked up the phone and called Chris. It’s time Caz learned there are consequences.
Walking into the Whitefish offices now, though, I’m suddenly beset by second thoughts about parking my tanks on her lawn like this. She certainly provoked me, but now I’m on territory where she feels most comfortable: she’s got the home advantage, and I’m certain she won’t hesitate to use it.
But I have the advantage of surprise. I almost feel sorry for her when I see her face as I step out of the lift; her jaw literally drops. I remember what it was like when the Post editor brought in an old college rival of mine to edit the Saturday pages that carried my column. I felt under attack in the one place I’d always considered my kingdom. This must be Caz’s worst nightmare come true. Not only am I on her turf, but she’s just discovered her new boss on this account is my best friend, and even worse, that I know Patrick, too. I can see all the pieces slotting into place in her head as she finally works out why ‘Tina’ tried to get her fired. Chris has always felt terrible about introducing Andrew to her at that charity event, but like I said at the time, it was hardly her fault my husband ran off with Caz.
My sympathy is short-lived. Chris will make Caz’s life a misery in the next few months; maybe it’ll make her think twice about sabotaging my life again. But I don’t fool myself for one minute this is going to be easy for me, either. Caz may be on the back foot for the moment, but this glamorous, hip world belongs to girls like her, not middle-aged women like me. You just have to look at her in her skinny jeans and Superga sneakers; next to her, I feel like a throwback from the Nineties, overdressed and out of touch.
‘Stop worrying,’ Chris says, as we get a taxi back to her office at the Shard. ‘You’re going to be fine. You can do this job with one hand tied behind your back.’
Now that I’ve found out a bit more about what I’ll be doing, I realise I’m going to like the work itself. Persuasive writing is a transferable skill, and using copy to promote a particular brand isn’t really very different from working to a newspaper proprietor’s political agenda. AJ is clearly Caz’s man, but I think I can handle him. And if he starts to make my life too difficult, Chris has enough clout to get Patrick to move him onto a different account.
‘It’s not the job I’m worried about,’ I tell Chris. ‘It’s whether I’m going to end up in a body bag. She’ll probably put antifreeze in my bloody coffee.’
She laughs. ‘Don’t worry. A Starbucks gift card comes with the job.’
It’s only on the train back down to Brighton, another insanely crowded commuter nightmare, that I allow myself to think about how Andrew might see all this. I don’t want him thinking I’ve turned into a bunny boiler, first moving into Caz’s house and now working at her office. It’ll be difficult to defend myself: I’ve got no proof Caz is the one who tipped off Sussex University and got me fired, and if I accuse her, it’ll just make things worse.
Min is right, I realise suddenly: I need to move out of Caz and Andrew’s house right now, whether the kitchen’s finished or not. If I do that, it’ll take the edge off the fact I’m working with Chris for one of Caz’s biggest clients. And Andrew owes me a little faith. I haven’t landed him in it by telling Caz anything about what happened the night of the storm, and I could have done. Obviously, I’d never try to blackmail him emotionally; that’s not the sort of person I am.
I hope he remembers loyalty is a two-way street.
Chapter 19
Caz
I watch Andy slide his arm around Louise’s shoulders as they sit on the sofa, pulling her against his chest. She laughs, twisting in his arms to tilt her head up to him, and he kisses her, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear in a tender gesture that makes my heart twist. I recognise the look in his brown eyes, which have softened to a warm amber with love.
Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves. The same principle applies to those who spy from the shadows. I should stop tormenting myself, but I can’t look away.
Even as I watch, Louise kicks off her sandals, casually draping her bare feet across Andy’s lap as she reaches for her mug. He makes a remark I can’t hear, and she laughs, looking ten years younger than I’ve ever seen her. Then he takes one of her feet in his hand and starts to rub it as she sips her tea, but after a moment, his hands slide up her calf. He stops, taking the tea from her, and she wreathes her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. He kisses her again, and then suddenly turns towards the camera and waves Bella away, laughing, tells her to turn the camera phone off, and the screen goes black.