I ended the call before she could. It was the only satisfaction I could take.
* * *
• • •
I went back to the hotel then, not sure what to do. I stopped at reception on my way in and asked whether anyone had called, but they hadn’t. There was no reason why Harry would have called the hotel, but I always felt I had to ask. I hurried to my room, still hoping he’d be there, and as I turned the corner I saw the door to my room was open. My heart leaped but then the maid came out, pushing a laundry cart laden with fresh towels and toiletries. We said hello and she left the door open. I could see in an instant that he hadn’t been there.
I sat on the bed and opened the envelope, just in case Harry had left a message for me. Of course he hadn’t. The reference was signed by Eleanor and was brief enough to make my face smart. It would be clear to anyone that I hadn’t left of my own accord. I pulled everything out of the box. It was humiliating to think of someone going through my desk like that, packing up my things, knowing I’d been fired. I wondered how early they’d been in to work, to do that so quickly. When had they been told? What had they been told? I sent a quick text to Sarah to ask her to call me.
I took one of the contraceptive pills out of its packet. This was the time of day I’d usually take it. At the weekends, I’d smuggle a couple of pills underneath an eyeshadow palette. I couldn’t let Tom find them. Now I held it to my mouth and wondered whether I should take it or not. Was there any point? But I thought of Harry saying “I promise” and summoned my faith in him. I slid the pill into my mouth and swallowed it.
My phone rang, startling me. I leaped off the bed thinking it must be Harry but saw Sarah’s name on the screen.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “When I got here someone from HR was at your desk, emptying the drawers.”
“Who was it?”
“That dark-haired guy. The intern. I think his name’s Nathan. He wouldn’t tell me what’s happened. He looked terrified; I think he thought it was my desk. Have they moved you to another department?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “I’ve been fired.”
“What? What for?”
I hesitated. “Oh, they didn’t say. They just said they’d ended my contract.”
“They can’t do that!”
“They can,” I said. “I’ve only worked there for eighteen months. They can dismiss staff at any time up to two years.”
“What? Just like that?”
“Seems so.”
There was a silence then and I knew she was calculating how long she’d been there. “But why?” she asked eventually. “Why would they do that?” I started to speak, but she interrupted me in a low, hurried voice, “Not now. I have to go. I’ll call you later.” And she was gone.
* * *
• • •
By the early afternoon I felt as though I was going crazy. I’d driven past the offices a couple of times, trying to see whether Harry’s car was there. I couldn’t see it. He normally parked by the entrance to the building; there were only a few spaces there and it was tacitly understood that they were left for senior management or clients, but sometimes, if he came to work a bit later, he’d just grab any space he could. I didn’t want to go onto the car park itself; I’d seen one of the security guys out there and although I doubted they were waiting for me, I wasn’t going to take any risks. Even just driving up and down the road was stressful enough—I was lucky that my car was small and black, like thousands of others—but at least they couldn’t stop me from driving on a public road. By five o’clock, I was parked farther up the hill, able to see the cars as they formed a line to leave the car park. There was no sign of Harry’s car. Again I drove up and down, feeling like a fool. By six thirty the car park was empty except for the cars belonging to the security guards and cleaners, and I knew there was no point hanging around.
And then I thought, Maybe he’s left early and gone to the hotel! I raced back, my heart pounding, but knew as soon as I opened the door and called his name that he wasn’t there. My message was still there, though, stuck to the mirror: a pathetic reminder to a man who clearly didn’t love me that I wasn’t about to give up on him.
* * *
• • •
That evening I made inroads into the minibar and dialed Harry’s number again and again, though it was still switched off. I just wanted to hear him say his name. Love was now mixed with utter rage and I was just sane enough to not leave a message. My phone rang as I was reaching for a can of tonic water. My glass toppled and gin spilled onto the bed as I grabbed my phone. When I saw the caller’s name on the screen, my heart sank. It was Tom. I hesitated, then answered it.
“Hi, Ruby. How are you?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” Try as I might, I knew I didn’t sound convincing. “How are you?”
“Oh.” He laughed nervously. “I’m missing you, actually. The house seems really empty without you.”
Tears prickled the back of my eyes. If he wanted to know what loneliness felt like, he should try being in my position. I coughed and said, “You’ll be fine, Tom.” I knew he would be. He’d always make sure he was.
“I just wondered . . . Do you want a divorce? You didn’t say.”
The odd thing was that although I’d thought of this since long before Harry and I decided to live together, Tom’s question now was like a punch in the stomach. I had enough to deal with, without having that as well. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose so.”
“Well, if we’re living separately it seems the obvious thing to do. It’s pretty clear you don’t want to be with me anymore.” There was a long pause and I had to stop myself from saying I didn’t know what I wanted. “Do you want me to file? I think you’re meant to be living apart for two years first, but people seem to move much faster than that.”
Panic flared in my stomach. “I don’t have any money for a lawyer. Can’t we sell the house first?”
There was silence and I looked at the phone screen to check we were still connected. “I could get a couple of estate agents to call round and give quotes if you want? It would make it clearer when we divide everything up, I suppose. It’s up to you, Ruby.”
I looked around the hotel room, at the pile of empty miniatures that lay on the bedside table, at the box I’d been given by Eleanor. It was so pathetic. I’d made such a mess of my life.
“What is it?” he said softly. “Hey, don’t cry, babe.”