Name & Address Withheld (32 page)

‘Here you go. Wasn’t sure what sort you wanted, so I just brought tumblers. Harvey says you can drink anything out of this sort.’

‘Thanks.’

Rachel didn’t give a flying fuck what Harvey thought, but this was not the time to tell her PA to ditch her boyfriend and find someone with a proper name and a job that didn’t involve computer programs. Kitty was now hovering by the door, shifting her weight almost imperceptibly from foot to foot. She’d
either just wet herself or she wanted to go home. It was, according to the clock on her computer, 6:06. Rachel wished she would just bloody go.

‘Um…if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll head off now. Have a good weekend. I’ll be in early Monday, so if you need anything typed up or filed before your ten o’clock just leave it for me and it shall be done.’ Kitty made it sound like a favour instead of it being what she was paid to do.

‘Thanks.’

Kitty closed the door behind her and only stopped at her desk for a couple of seconds to pick up her bag and turn her computer off before practically sprinting out of the semi-deserted office. Rachel wasted no time in reaching into her most coveted piece of office furniture and liberating a bottle of white wine which had been chilling all afternoon. Her lunchtime intake had worn off a while ago. Rachel offered a glass to Clare out of courtesy—very generous, she thought, given the circumstances. To her surprise Clare accepted. Obviously Clare was a little bit less uptight than Rachel had thought.

Confidence bolstered by a couple of sips, Clare stepped it up a gear. ‘For the record, Lizzie has no idea that I’m here and she’d be mortified if she found out. She knows she’s done wrong, and she’s confused. She can’t see any way forward. I just wanted to talk to you—career woman to career woman. I know how you must be feeling.’

‘The fuck you do. You can’t have the first idea. To know that your husband has been having an affair is devastating enough, without discovering that the person he was seeing was someone that you knew and trusted. Someone, I might just add, who in her professional capacity was supposed to be helping me.’

Rachel was no less aggressive in her response, but at least sitting down with a glass in her hand she had stopped shouting.

‘Just give me a minute and listen to what I’ve got to say. We’ve got more in common than you think. I’ve been married.’

Rachel softened a little at Clare’s use of the past tense. ‘What happened?’ Despite herself, Rachel was curious. She’d
never have guessed that Clare had been married. She had single-woman-in-her-thirties written all over her.

‘He was in advertising too. He worked all hours and had an affair with a colleague less than six months after we got back from our honeymoon. I was setting up a restaurant business at the time and was totally wrapped up in what I was doing—only I thought he was right behind me, not running about behind my back. I only found out when a friend of mine showed me a picture in one of our trades. The photo was actually meant to show off the interior of a new gastrodome, but they’d taken it on the night of an agency party and there was my husband in glorious Technicolor, draped around her…’

Up until now Clare had managed to be fairly matter-of-fact, but a hint of emotion entered her voice as she started to think about the details. The feelings that she’d buried for the last two years were starting to defrost. Their marriage had become a statistic. If only he hadn’t done it, they might even have had a child by now.

‘I know having your arm round someone is hardly grounds for divorce, but there was something about the way that she was looking at him. I got suspicious. After two days of telling myself to calm down I confronted him and he confessed. He told me it had all been a mistake and even tried to make me feel better by telling me that they’d only spent one night together. But I’ve never believed that you can sleep with someone “by accident” full stop…’

She paused for dramatic effect.

‘…let alone four times in one night.’

Clare smiled resignedly despite herself. It was tragic. Tragically funny. Rachel, she was pleased to see, was looking totally shocked. Everything was going according to plan.

‘What did you do?’

‘What choice did I have? I threw him out. He begged to come home and I told him to fuck off. It was over. I was devastated. I loved him…’

Unsure of what to say next, Rachel poured more wine. She had to admit that she was impressed at Clare’s cut-throat attitude. He cheated, therefore he was ejected. Maybe she was
turning into a softie in her old age. Clare was still in full flow. Rachel interrupted her self-questioning. She was genuinely interested in what Clare had to say.

‘I never thought I’d recover…but I did. I have. I don’t even hate him any more. I suppose I’m just sad it ended the way it did. I always believed that you got married and that was it. He ruined my fantasy of marriage and my Martha Stewart outlook on life.’

Clare stole a glance and was relieved to see that Rachel couldn’t have looked any more sympathetic.

‘Did you ever find out who he had the affair with?’

‘Yes. It gets worse. I couldn’t tell from the picture in the magazine, but I later discovered that I’d met her before. She was at our wedding.’ Clare smiled again. She couldn’t help it. Objectively, in retrospect, despite her high hopes her marriage had been a complete farce. And if she couldn’t see the funny side at this point she would most certainly have cried.

‘Well, it sounds like you were very pragmatic about it all.’

‘Believe me, I was much less sorted at the time. Looking back on it, there are times when I think I might have shot myself in the foot. I was so proud. I told myself that I could never forgive him. Yet there are still mornings when I wake up wondering if I did the right thing. Life’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. So why should I have expected him to be? I sometimes wonder if we should have worked through it, or at least tried to. My anger was all-consuming. I wasn’t capable of thinking straight. Now I know lots of people whose marriages have survived an affair. Sure, it takes time, but there’s usually two sides to every story—and while everyone’s always quick to judge your relationship, only the two people at the heart of it know what they have had or could have again.’

‘Do you still see your ex?’

‘Never. I decided to cut all ties at the time. I was too hurt. All he seemed to care about was his work, and even when he was begging to come back it was only in between meetings. I know you advertising people have some crazy deadlines to meet, but it’s all about priorities and I felt I was coming second to his job. And to think that he’d made time to shag some
other girl when we hadn’t even been married a year… I suppose now it might be different, but my life’s hectic enough without meeting ex-husbands for a drink from time to time. No, looking back on it, it was probably a lucky escape, a blessing in disguise…’

Rachel wondered who Clare was convincing. Her or herself.

‘I guess I’ve become a bit of a fatalist. If we’d been meant to be together I think it would have worked out. He’s climbed his way to the top, and I haven’t been there getting in his way. I run a successful business. If you remove the emotions from the equation you could say that it was the best thing for both of us.’

Clare was delighted when Rachel came over to join her on the sofa. This was much more promising than the locking of horns which had appeared inevitable when she’d first arrived. Rachel sat back, resting her head on the cushions. They there were, united in Chablis. One divorced. One debating what to do next. It was Rachel’s turn to share.

‘It’s interesting. I know what you mean, but I think I know what your husband was going through too. I love my job. I love the people. I love the challenges. Between you and me this campaign I’m working on is going really well. I don’t know whether…she—’ Rachel couldn’t bear to use Lizzie’s name at the moment ‘—told you, but it’s the new national anti-drugs campaign. It launches next week and it’s going to be huge. This could be my meal ticket to the top.’

There was a momentary pause while Rachel admired the view from the heights to which she hoped to climb.

‘What’s your surname, Clare? If your ex is still in advertising, you never know I might know him. The industry is a small world.’

‘Oh, I think you’ll know him…’

He was probably strutting around an enormous office a few floors up. Clare was looking forward to Rachel’s reaction to this piece of news. The build-up had gone perfectly. ‘My surname is Williamson, but that’s my maiden name; I took it back after the divorce. My married name was Dexter. My husband was—’

‘Joe?’ Rachel interrupted her straight away.

Clare nodded.

Rachel’s face was a picture of disbelief and admiration. ‘I don’t believe it.’

Clare could tell that Rachel was impressed, even if she was doing her best to disguise it. Joe had been a great catch. She felt her credibility with Rachel had just leapt up a few hundred points. A small consolation for the pain he’d put her through, but it was something. His betrayal still hurt her more than she liked to admit even to herself. Why else would she have flown off the handle and treated Lizzie that way? Thinking about it now, she realised she couldn’t blame the woman he’d slept with—just as Rachel couldn’t blame Lizzie, if she thought about it. It was convenient for a wife not to have to blame her own husband for an affair but it wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t real. Clare owed Lizzie a little more understanding. Blind fury had left quite a trail of destruction in its wake.

Rachel’s mood had done an about-turn, and the new Rachel was almost dancing round her office, pointing out framed pictures of tables at awards dinners. Clare feigned blasé and declined Rachel’s repeated invitations to come and peer at pictures of Joe in black tie, even though part of her was dying to have a look. Fat? Thin? Hair? No hair? Clare’s image of him was frozen in time, and nearly two years out of date.

‘Joe Dexter. I can’t believe it.’

It must be about the fifth time she’d said it.

His name still provoked a reflex reaction in her central nervous system. She could picture herself at the altar, taking Joseph Arthur Dexter to be her lawful wedded husband. Even now she could feel the hurt and anger as she remembered the humiliation she’d felt when she accused him and he confessed to his infidelity. Clare had thought she’d feel vindicated but instead she had been devastated.

‘I’m amazed. Joe was married? Our Joe Dexter?

No, Clare felt like saying. My Joe Dexter.

‘He must have fallen for you in a big way. He’s always been a bit of a player. He still is. But it’s worked for him. Only thirty-
seven and already a partner in one of London’s biggest agencies.’

Rachel was beside herself. She wondered how many people on her floor knew that he had been married. What a scoop. Boy, did she have some gossip for Monday morning. She was itching to tell someone. She might just have to call Will in a minute. She couldn’t help herself. Joe was a terminal play-boy…and a divorcé after an affair with a colleague. She wondered who the ‘four times a night’ girl had been.

‘You’re well out of there, Clare. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that everyone loves Joe, but I can’t imagine anything worse than being married to him. I suppose, if you think about it, advertising is a touchy-feely industry run by lots of beautiful people, so you shouldn’t be surprised when temptation wins. But, having said all that, it’s funny—I never thought Matt would be the unfaithful type.’

‘Funnily enough I didn’t have Joe down as a love rat when I bought the big white dress. I don’t know that there is a type either. Everyone loves to be loved and needs to be needed. In my experience men don’t like having to compete with your career on a daily basis, but sometimes I think people hang on for the wrong reasons.’

There was nothing more that she could do. So far Rachel had listened. Clare had bitten her tongue on several occasions and hopefully the crucial seeds had been sown.

‘Look, I’d better be off. I know how busy you are. But, please, take stock before you set out to ruin Lizzie’s life. You won’t want to hear this, but in some ways you and Lizzie are very similar. You’re both ambitious. You’re both in the ascendant of your careers. She couldn’t be any sorrier for what’s happened. Just bear in mind that revenge might make you feel better in the short term but, painful as it may seem now, it takes two to have an affair.’

It had all been going like clockwork, right up until the last seven words had left her mouth. Now Clare could feel the office temperature changing around her.

‘Are you saying that this was my fault?’ Rachel’s tone was ultra-defensive.

‘Of course not. I’m just saying that Lizzie isn’t the only one to blame. I know for a fact that if Matt had told her he was married when they first met Lizzie wouldn’t have seen him again, and she certainly wouldn’t have slept with him. She’d never have deliberately subjected anyone to what you’ve been through. I suppose you could count yourself lucky that Matt picked Lizzie to have an affair with. At least she sent him back home when she realised what was going on.’

Rachel could feel her hackles rising. Who the hell did Clare think she was? They’d only met once before and now, after a little heart to heart, she seemed to think she’d earned the right to stand in her office and tell her that she should be grateful that Matt had picked Lizzie to sleep with.

‘Lizzie should have thought about her career before she started screwing around with a married man. She’s supposed to help people with their problems, not go out there and generate more. Someone has to expose her hypocritical behaviour. She’s not the person people think she is.’

The woman had a nerve. If Ed was to be believed, Lizzie didn’t have the exclusive on hypocritical behaviour. Clare decided to do a very un-Clare thing and gamble. She had nothing to lose and, more to the point, Lizzie presently had little to keep.

‘I think you might want to reconsider.’

‘Really?’ Rachel doubted it. Frankly, she was getting bored. Clare could take her holier-than-thou am-dram attitude and just piss off as far as she was concerned. ‘Look, if you must persist with your campaign to clear Lizzie’s name, I suggest you liaise with Kitty on Monday and make an appointment to see me—like everyone else has to round here.’