‘Caroline. Thank you for coming so promptly and sorry to tear you away from your work.’
Henry, the essence of good manners, half stood to acknowledge her arrival, gesturing at an empty chair near the door.
Carrie smiled, sat down, placed her hands on the table, and smiled.
‘As you know, we have been in the process of considering the possibility of appointing a new partner – or partners – to the firm.’
Henry picked up his glasses from the table and popped them on. He was looking down at some papers, but now he looked up at her and smiled apologetically.
‘There’s no way to say this that you’re not going to find disappointing, Caroline, but the partners have decided not to extend the offer of a partnership to you at this time. After some considerations, it was felt that...’
Decided not to extend the offer of a partnership...
Not to extend...
No partnership...
As the words sank in, Carrie had the greatest difficulty in keeping her face still. No partnership. It was all she could think of. The words bounced round her brain. No partnership.
‘...fact is, we have not felt that you have brought enough new business in to the firm, and as you must understand, in these times, this is a key requirement...’
No partnership.
‘...do not be discouraged. We will, of course, continually be reviewing your performance and...’
No partnership.
‘... another time perhaps. Do you have any questions?’
He had stopped speaking and was looking at Carrie, one eyebrow raised.
She tried to reach through the red mist that had descended in her brain so that she could put words together.
‘Questions? No. No not really. I’m disappointed, of course.’
‘Indeed. As are we. But I must stress, Caroline, that this is not the end of the road. We think very highly of you, very highly indeed. Perhaps in a little time ... is that correct, Susan?’
‘Absolutely.’
Susan James, flame-haired and pale skinned, leant forward earnestly and flannelled about targets and objectives and assessments. Carrie tuned her out. What did it matter? There was only one fact of any consequence – she had failed.
She couldn’t wait to get out of there. The boardroom, which had looked so plush, so elegant, so much where she wanted to be, now seemed to mock her. It felt stifling, unbearably sneering.
She said, ‘I’d better get on.’
God, that sounded pathetic! She should be upbeat, gracious, philosophical but ... the bastards! She deserved this promotion, she’d ground out the hours for years.
‘Yes of course.’ Henry looked at her. ‘Are you all right? You look very hot.’
Hot! Her head was bursting! If she didn’t get out of there right now it would surely explode. She wanted to scream and kick and inflict actual violence on someone, though even in this extremity she’d never be able to do that to old Henry.
But blast him all the same!
‘Yes. Fine. Thank you for your time.’
She pushed back her chair and stood up. Producing a smile cost her more effort than she could ever remember having to make, but she achieved it.
It was only when she was half way down the stairs that she realised that what she longed to do more than anything was call Jane or Marta and share her crashing disappointment with them. But there was no way she could look Jane in the face now, not since Tom had catapulted back into their lives bringing all the remembered guilt and shame with him. She could call Marta, perhaps.
She pulled out her phone.
‘Congratulations!’
It was Yvonne, the girl from reception, smiling like there was something to celebrate. My God! She must know she’d been summoned and she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Shit! Her failure would rip round the place like wildfire.
There was no point in lying.
‘Congratulations nothing,’ she said sourly, pushing past into the loo as Yvonne gasped audibly.
She stared at her reflection, expecting transformation. But she was still Carrie, still faintly bruised under the make-up, still with the same familiar, uneven features and short sandy hair.
She could do this. She could be bright and upbeat and deflect all sympathy.
She started to dial Marta’s number again, then dropped her phone into her handbag with a pathetic grimace.
No.
She could not talk to Marta. She was hiding too many truths.
‘Back in ten if there are any calls,’ she called to Yvonne as she sped past the desk in reception.
‘But where—’
Yvonne’s startled words floated after her as she escaped down the steps.
Carrie prided herself on her independence. Being alone, she always maintained, didn’t mean you were lonely. But right now she knew that she had never felt so alone in her life. Jane and Neal had each other and the children. Marta had her gentle, devoted Jake. She had no-one at home she could turn to. There would be no loving presence when she opened her door tonight. She had no inclination for physical contact via Bed Buddies. It wasn’t sex she needed right now, it was the touch of someone who loved her. Human warmth.
She had failed in every way – at work, in friendship, in love.
As she strode along Queen Street, the clouds that had been gathering all morning chose to deliver their load to the streets of Edinburgh. A few small drops of rain turned in seconds into a shower and soon to a torrent. In less than a minute, Carrie was soaked. She gave up and walked back to the office, her head down, rivulets of water trickling down her back.
Chapter Twenty-two
Suzy Patterson loosened the strings on her violin, placed it in its case and scowled at Emily. Her spiky black hair and the excessive eye liner round her huge, dark slate eyes were the only manifestations of the Goth look she favoured that she could get away with in school. At home, Emily knew, she would add various bits of hardware to her face – a nose ring and a small but vicious-looking spike through her left eyebrow among them.
But despite her efforts to express individuality and show a streak of rebelliousness, Suzy was totally not adventurous, thought Emily, irritated by her friend’s outspoken opinion that ‘Robbie Jamieson’s a serious dope head’.
‘He is so not, Suzy,’ she said crossly as she stowed her cello away and unwound her hair. The school had made her clamp it up during the day to hide the vivid purple ends. ‘Just 'cos he smokes the odd joint – so what? Everyone does.’
‘I don’t. Taking drugs is a ridiculous thing to do. Why would you want to mess up your brain like that?’
‘It’s just a bit of fun.’ Emily shrugged on her blazer. ‘Weed’s not drugs anyway.’
‘It is.’
‘Tisn’t.’
‘Tis. You can do better than Robbie, Em. He’s basically not a nice person.’
‘Oh, and Stevie is?’ Emily growled, automatically launching into attack mode. Suzy’s new boyfriend, Stevie Ryder, went to a rival school and was an ugly lump of a boy, whose nose had already suffered two breaks at rugby.
Suzy stared at her. ‘You’ve changed, Em. What the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t think straight any more. Stop seeing Robbie before something goes really wrong, that’s my advice. And there’s no call to be nasty about Steve.’ She picked up her violin and swung away. ‘Tell you what, Steve respects me. Can you honestly say the same about Robbie?’
She stalked out of the cloakroom without looking back. Emily stared after her, chewing her lip to stop it from wobbling, part of her feeling ashamed at her unwarranted bitchiness, the other part defiant.
In the past few weeks she had done everything in her power to flout her mother’s curfew as Robbie’s interest in her grew. She’d invented extra orchestra practices that went on till eight. ‘The concert’s coming up, right, and we’re doing this like, really difficult piece and no-one gets it.’ She took a tiny part in the school panto and insisted they had to attend all the rehearsals, even though only the principals had to rehearse before November.
Ross, wise to her tricks, was exerting an undue hold over her, much to her annoyance.
‘I’ll tell Mum,’ he threatened one day as he was heading home after football practice. Emily was already wearing the baggy sweat shirt and micro skirt she had changed into in the loos so that she could meet Robbie in town, her slim legs encased in thick black tights, the blonde part of her hair messily clipped back, long tendrils of purple escaping randomly to frame her face.
‘Don’t, Ross,’ she pleaded.
‘What’s it worth?’
She had to think fast. ‘I’ll buy you a ticket for the Hearts-Hibs home derby if you if you keep quiet till then.’
Ross whistled. ‘Promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?’
Cursing inwardly, Emily nodded.
‘And one for my mate, Ed?’
‘Don’t push your luck, Ross.’
‘Cos I think Mum and Dad would be very interested to know that—’
‘Okay, okay,’ she said hastily, totting up the cost in her head. It was worth it.
‘Then you got it.’ Ross, his freckled face splitting into a grin, hared off to join his friends, who were now almost out of sight down the road.
Emily stared after him. He’d be all right. Ross knew how to keep a secret – and she’d done the same for him on occasion. She swung the large holdall, designed to conceal her spare clothing, onto her shoulder. Robbie would be waiting.
He was there. The familiar feelings of diffidence as she crossed the threshold of the pub were replaced by elation as she saw him.
‘Hi, Ems. Got your voddy in.’
‘Hi.’ Emily dropped onto the bench seat beside him and lifted her face for a kiss. She loved the thrill of sitting in a dark corner with him, drinking vodka and coke.
He slung his arm across her shoulders in a gesture of careless ownership.
So cool.
‘Another?’ Robbie asked an hour later, when they’d downed three drinks already. ‘Or shall we go somewhere and snog?’
Emily hadn’t eaten. She had squirrelled away a Mars bar and some crisps in her bag in case she couldn’t forage in the fridge when she got home, but for now, the alcohol was making her feel lightheaded. She looked at Robbie’s handsome, square-cut features and squirmed with pleasure. He wanted her. He wanted her!
‘Let’s snog.’
She squeezed his hand excitedly. What did Suzy know? Robbie was the real thing.
The lane behind the pub smelled of stale beer and festering rubbish, but Emily didn’t care. As Robbie’s mouth came down hard on hers and his hand crept up her sweatshirt, she gave herself up to self-gratification.
‘Mmm, Em, you taste so sweet.’ He broke off for long enough to murmur in her ear. ‘Let’s sneak back to my place, huh? My folks won’t mind.’
It was tempting. She knew what Robbie was suggesting and she was totally up for it. It was well time she lost her virginity and she loved Robbie so much. But not tonight. Getting home without her lie being detected was going to be enough of a challenge without compounding it by another hour or two’s absence.
‘I love you, Robbie,’ she whispered achingly. ‘I love you so much. But not tonight, hey? I’ve like, got loads to do at home.’
‘Back to Mummy, eh?’ Robbie teased.
‘No! I just got stuff—’
‘Yeah, yeah. Just kidding.’ His fingers circled her small breasts, pinched a nipple so that she moaned and found his mouth again.
‘Soon, Robbie. I promise.’
‘Saturday? There’s a party at Greg’s place. His folks’ll be away and there’s loads of bedrooms.’
This was it then. Decision time.
‘You’ll get protection?’
He grinned down at her. ‘A condom? No worries.’
‘Okay then. Yeah.’
His kiss was all the thanks she needed.
On the bus home, Emily began to worry about where she could slip back into her school uniform. Why did she have to go through all this shit? She was being forced into lying and surely that was wrong? Resentment replaced the glow from Robbie’s attentions and she used it to cover the insecurities that lay deep in her heart. She hated Suzy for being so bitchy about Robbie. She hated her parents for grounding her.
She glanced sideways, out of the window. It was dark already and all she could see was her own reflection staring back at her, pale and ghost-like. She unclipped her hair and twisted it back into the tight knot demanded by the school.
What a faff. She grimaced at her image in the glass. What the hell – Robbie loved her and that was all that mattered.
Shortly after midnight on Saturday night, Emily eased open the window in her bedroom and climbed out onto the flat roof of the small porch above the front door. It looked further down than she had remembered and she wasn’t at all sure about how she would get back up again, but it surely couldn’t be that difficult to scale a small drainpipe?
She dropped to the ground with a soft thump. At least there was grass on this side.
The house was in darkness. Everyone was asleep. Robbie, who had passed his driving test two months ago, was picking her up at the end of the road.
‘I can get my dad’s car, no worries,’ he had assured her and true to his word, he was waiting for her round the corner.
‘Okay?’ he grinned as she climbed in.
Her heart lurched at the sight of him and she leaned across for a kiss.
‘Wicked,’ she said, and smiled. This was exciting. Robbie already tasted vaguely of booze but he couldn’t have had very much or he wouldn’t be driving.
When they arrived at Greg’s place across town in Portobello, the music was blaring, the lights were low and the smell of grass was drifting through every room. Soon Emily began to feel a bit dizzy. The front room was too noisy to talk and she abandoned Robbie as he started to roll a joint and went in search of booze. The Victorian house seemed positively palatial compared with her own. This was so cool. In the quieter kitchen she came across Suzy and Steve, sitting at the table discussing – of all things – politics.
‘Hey, Emily,’ Suzy called, ‘Wanna join us? Where’s Robbie?’
‘Through there.’ Emily waved vaguely. Suzy had added a red streak to the usual black in her hair and was looking really fancy in a tight black leather mini and studded leather jacket. ‘Just come for a drink.’
‘There’s some punch, here, let me get you some,’ said Greg. A couple of years older than Robbie, he was celebrating the end of his gap year and the start of student life.
‘Thanks, great.’ Emily took the mug. The punch was rich and fruity. It tasted good and slipped down easily. She eavesdropped on the conversation for a bit longer, refilled her mug and wandered off.
Upstairs, she counted four bedrooms. She opened one door to find a couple writhing on the bed. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she said, closing closed the door again quickly.
‘There you are, Ems.’ Robbie was behind her. ‘Wondered where you’d gone.’
Emily’s head was beginning to spin. Was there one Robbie or two? What was in this punch, for heaven’s sake? Still, it tasted fantastic, much better than voddy and coke.
‘Hi,’ she said and aimed for one of his heads. Her kiss landed near his ear instead of on his mouth and she started to giggle. ‘Hi handsome. Wherever you are.’
‘Hi gorgeous.’ He caught her round the waist. ‘I think you need to lie down.’ He opened the nearest door, saw the couple inside, pulled her to another room and helped her to the bed. ‘Here Ems. Come here, sweetheart.’
She lay down thankfully, but oddly, the spinning got worse. She couldn’t shut her eyes, it was better when she looked at the ceiling. Robbie was kissing her, pulling at her clothes, she could feel his hand between her thighs, forcing her legs apart. ‘No, Robbie, not yet.’
‘Gorgeous,’ he murmured hotly into her ear. ‘You’re so gorgeous, Ems.’
She struggled feebly as he pulled off her knickers.
‘No, Robbie, stop.’
This wasn’t right, she wasn’t ready, it wasn’t how she’d imagined it at all. She wanted something special, romantic, loving and this felt ... grubby.
‘You promised, sweetheart, remember? You do love me, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, of course I love you—’
‘Well then. Look,’ he half sat up, felt in his pocket, came out with a packet. ‘I promised you, didn’t I? No worries, it’s safe.’
He put on the condom with such practiced ease that even through her numbed senses Emily realised that he must have done this before. And then he was on her, forcing her legs apart with his body, rubbing her breasts with his hands, and she felt him penetrate her.
‘Oww!’
It hurt. Why did it hurt? As he began to pump up and down, in and out, Emily felt no pleasure, only soreness. And still the room was going round and round. It wasn’t meant to be like this, not like this at all.
‘Gorgeous Emily.’ Finally, Robbie slumped on top of her, spent.
So that was it. She was his. Robbie’s girl properly. That must be good, mustn’t it?
Later, they went back downstairs. Robbie kept his arm round her shoulders and whispered, ‘You were great, Em, honest,’ in her ear and she smiled at him and forced aside the feelings of dissatisfaction at what had just happened. Still, another drink would go down well. She filled her mug up with punch.
‘Watch it Emily, people have been pouring stuff into that all night,’ someone said – was it Suzy?
‘’S all right. ’Sfine,’ said Emily, and gulped down half the mug. It tasted good. Blissful. Nothing wrong with this.
Robbie laughed and handed her his joint.
‘Good stuff, Em,’ he said.
And it was good stuff. The booze and the joint. Lovely stuff. Lovely Robbie. She was a woman now, not a girl. Great stuff.
Marta couldn’t get used to Jake’s absence. It had been three weeks since he had gone to London and her bed felt horribly empty. Her life felt empty. The only thing that was sustaining her at all was her work because, just when she needed them most, she had lost her friends. She had never made things up with Jane after the disastrous incident with Emily and as for Carrie – she had just gone off the radar. Marta had lost count of the number of times she had texted her, asking her to call. She hadn’t answered, not once, so Marta had given up.
Her life had imploded. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so miserable.
Four o’clock on Sunday morning and the darkness outside was as impenetrable as the darkness in her heart. She turned over, instinctively reaching out for Jake, and the dull misery as she remembered he wasn’t there weighed her heart down like lead.
Four fifteen. She thought about turning on the light and trying to read.
Four thirty. She checked the clock again – surely it couldn’t just be fifteen minutes later? It felt like hours.
The phone rang. Marta jumped with shock. Jake she thought. He can’t sleep either, he misses me, he wants to come back.
‘Hello?’ she snatched up the receiver and spoke into it breathlessly.
‘Is that Marta Davidson?’ The voice was young and high-pitched.
‘Yes. Who’s this?’ Puzzlement mingled with profound disappointment.
‘Suzy Patterson.’ There was panic in the voice. ‘I’m so sorry to bother you, honest I am, but it’s Emily. I don’t know what to do. I found your number on her mobile and I know she trusts you.’
‘Emily? What’s wrong? Do you know what time it is?’
‘I know, sorry, honest, but she’s, like, unconscious. I can’t get her to wake up.’
‘Unconscious? What’s happened? Where are you?’
Marta switched the light on and sat up, very wide awake.
‘She’s had a lot to drink. And maybe some drugs too, I dunno. We’ve been at this party—’
‘Party? Where?’ Marta’s recollections of Emily’s party-going were still all too vivid.
‘We’re not far from you. That’s why I’m calling. Can you help? Please? I don’t want to ring her Mum. Em’s not meant to be out, but I know she likes you, see, and—’