The Cornish Affair (33 page)

Oh,
God, here we go again, she thought smiling brightly and explaining Tim’s absence for the third time in only fifteen minutes. Irritatingly, she knew as long as the chair remained empty it would continue all night - and then as if she’d been sent a gift from heaven her senior food technologist, Frances, arrived.

Frances
was an old hippie. She was nearly forty with wild, uncontrollable, frizzy ginger hair, protruding grey eyes that often looked as if they were standing out on stalks, and was very overweight.

“Hiya,”
Katie said pulling out the spare chair for her, “I thought you would be sitting with your sister on the other table?”

“Oh,
I’m supposed to be but she’s driving me mad already and they’re all such boring farts in HR and finance…”

Katie
laughed at her when she explained again how Tim couldn’t make it, Francis plonked herself down onto the empty chair. “Great, I can sit here with you guys and have a laugh,” she said winking at Harry and Alice.

Katie
likened Frances to a whirlwind in the office where she worked in complete and utter chaos. Her area was always in a mess and Katie often had to beg her to tidy up to which Frances would inevitably throw a big squashy arm around Katie, guffaw with laughter and tell her to chill out. Frances was without a doubt the kindest, most sincere person Katie had ever met and she knew she gave the team an older but steadying balance that it needed.

Frances
tapped her arm. “Pass that bottle of champagne, Katie,” she said laughing. “And let’s get this party really started.”

Giggling,
Katie filled Francis’s glass and watched her knock back half the wine in one go, while young Alice stared at her in surprise.

“Now,”
Frances said. “Before I get too inebriated I have to tell you something I found out about the project manager’s role.”

Katie
leaned towards her in anticipation. Her CV and application form were already submitted for the job and Francis’s sister, Susan, who worked in personnel might know how many other candidates had applied.

Francis
licked her lips and then hiccupped. “Well, apparently there’s only one other applicant who will be asked for interview and she’s only got four years of experience,” she said squeezing Katie’s hand with encouragement.

Digesting
the news Katie said excitedly, “But I’ve got twice as much as that!”

“Yep,
I think you’re going to walk it, my lovely,” Francis said grinning. “And I can’t think of anyone else that deserves it more - sounds like a done-deal to me.”

“Oh,
I hope so, Francis,” she said, “I know I’ll be a good project manager. And I want it so much I can just about taste it!”

Francis
laughed. “Well, here comes our starter, let’s taste these fabulous prawns instead.”

The
fresh seafood smell was divine and Katie’s mouth watered in anticipation. “These prawns are delicious, they’re so succulent and sweet,” she exclaimed. Francis nodded her head in agreement with her mouth full and then lapsed into contented silence while she gave the food her undivided attention.

Once
the meal was finished the chief executive stood on the stage and an automatic respectful silence fell upon the room. He was a chubby man in his late fifties with a bald head that the light seemed to twinkle on, almost as though it had been polished for the special occasion. He explained how well they were doing against their retail competitors and the layout of the new campaign while Katie listened avidly hanging upon his every word. It was all very exciting and ideas started to race around in her mind.

The
business unit manager for her department, David Shaw, stood up to speak next and boasted about the increase in his sections sales. “And, in particular, I’d like to mention the dessert section which has increased our sales this year by nearly 60% which is largely due to Katie Wilkinson and her team,” he said proudly smiling across at Katie.

Her
heart soared with happiness and she could feel her cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at them and began to clap. Katie grinned back at everyone and then silently mouthed the words, ‘thank you’ at Francis, Harry, and Alice for all their hard work.

When
the speeches were over she stood next to David, discussing some of his new ideas and while she was making sure he knew that she was one hundred per cent behind the campaign, the chief executive approached them with a young man she hadn’t seen before. He was tall and slim with a slick young Tom Cruise look about him and wore a ‘look at me I’m stinking rich and don’t I know it’, expression on his face.

“David!”
the chief exec boomed in his loud penetrating voice and shook his hand vigorously, “I’d like to introduce my nephew, Alex.”

David’s
face flushed with the recognition, and the friendly greeting - he shook Alex’s hand.

Katie
gave the chief exec her warmest smile as David said in reply, “This is Katie Wilkinson, my product development team leader in the dessert section.”

Alex
reached across his uncle to take her hand and grasped it so roughly that she almost squealed with shock. He was squeezing her hand so hard she felt her pearl ring digging into her little finger.

“Alexander
Jennings,” he said staring intently at her and for one split-second Katie could see in his eyes that he knew just how much pain he was causing to her fingers. Defiantly she met his intense stare and without losing his eye contact she managed to slide her hand out of his vice-like grip. While David was talking to them both she put her hands behind her back and rubbed her stinging finger. Although she felt like wincing in pain, the smile she’d plastered to her face never flagged.

Alex
asked. “So you must be the sweet stuff in the section, are you?”

Katie’s
mind raced, who was this guy and what on earth was he doing here? She realised the chief exec was staring at her and David was staring at Alex with a mixture of puzzlement and apprehension.

“Sweet
stuff. Dessert? Get it?” Alex asked and the three men laughed loudly at the pathetic pun. She could tell David’s laughter was mixed with relief that Katie hadn’t been affronted by the sexist connotations in the comment and that she hadn’t retaliated, and she knew the chef exec was probably too old and naïve to understand the hidden insult. As Alex bored them all with tales from his time at Cambridge University she wondered where he worked and why the chief exec had brought him - he looked more suited to posing in adverts for Calvin Klein boxer shorts than working in food retail. Maybe he worked for one of their competitors like Marks & Spencer or Waitrose she wondered, and found herself staring uncontrollably at him.

In
between her and Alex a young waitress with trembling hands managed to topple two glasses of champagne on her tray, and while Katie smiled reassuringly at her and helped her upturn one of the glasses, she noticed Alex sneering arrogantly at the young girl as though she was a piece of dirt under his shoe.

Hmm,
what an idiot he really was, she thought, and for the first time that night she was pleased Tim wasn’t with her because he wouldn’t have been able to hide his contempt for this guy. It wasn’t often she took an instant dislike to anyone but she had with Alex and was pleased when, with a joke from the chef exec about how he was trying to get Alex to join the company and make them all pots of lovely money, they said their farewells and moved away to talk to another group of managers. Katie and David were stunned into an uncomfortable silence with neither of them wanting to say exactly what was on their minds. So, mumbling about getting a proper drink of whisky, David headed off to the bar and she re-joined her friends at the table.

After
dancing, drinking her fill of champagne, and smiling until her cheeks ached she said to Francis, “Gosh, it’s nearly midnight. I’m going to get a taxi and make a push for home. I don’t want too much of a hang-over in the morning. Can I drop you off first?”

Francis
had just returned from the dance floor with Harry where she’d been trying to teach him a jive. Failing miserably they’d had everyone laughing hysterically. Her face was bright red with the exertion and she was sweating profusely, the sleeves on her flowing kaftan-style dress had ridden up exposing her fat puffy arms and Katie gently patted them back down into place.

Heaving
in and out she tried to catch her breath. “No, Katie, I’m OK, thanks. Think I’ll cool down a little and have another drink,” she said gulping down a glass of water.

As
Katie waited in the foyer overlooking the spectacular view of the Thames she felt her exuberant mood flatten, thinking about Tim, and when she climbed into the back of the taxi it dawned upon her that probably for the first time since they’d met she wasn’t actually looking forward to seeing him. She sank gratefully into the seat and rested her head back, silently groaning at the thought of the inevitable argument that would take place later where she’d accuse him of letting her down again and he’d chant out the same old excuses. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be and it certainly wasn’t like this in all the chick-lit novels she read. The heroines in the books were full of spirit and determination to fight for their men, and a couple of months ago she too had been like that. But now, after trying to hang-on in there, all she felt was bone-weary. Pep talks from Lisa and Sarah about how Bridget Jones wouldn’t roll over and accept Tim’s bad behaviour made her smile and when the taxi pulled up outside their apartment she took a deep breath to bolster herself for what lay ahead, paid the driver and entered their front door.

They
always kept their keys in the glass bowl on the small hall table and because it was empty she knew he wasn’t home from the restaurant. She decided to go straight to bed and try to fall asleep before he got back. This way, she decided, they wouldn’t continue the argument where they’d left off earlier. Then, remembering his words about keeping the dress on, she slipped it over her head and chucked it rebelliously into the laundry basket before climbing under the soft white duvet.

Closing
her eyes, she tried to empty her mind, hoping sleep would take over but thoughts about Tim and their relationship tumbled around mercilessly. How could things have gone so badly wrong in a couple of months? And, although he was making it damned hard for her with his dreadful behaviour, compared to when they’d first moved in together, she still loved him to bits. Or did she? And, was it just the memory of the former Tim that she was still in love with?

Knowing
it wasn’t just her that he was being horrible to helped a little as his family were also complaining about his attitude. She remembered last week when his sister, Jenny, had called him an arrogant, selfish prat, and his father, who was a man of few words, had sadly shook his head in disappointment at him. But when they’d got home and she’d wanted to talk about it, because secretly she agreed with Jenny, he’d simply shrugged his shoulders and denied any wrong doing. At the moment it seemed to be everyone else’s fault in Tim’s eyes.

Turning
onto her side, and in an attempt to pin-point exactly when it had started she thought over the last few months week by week and decided the changes had begun more or less from the first week in his new job as head chef at the restaurant, and although she knew how hard he’d worked for the promotion and certainly deserved it, she hated the way the pressure of work seemed to be changing his personality. And he’d had such a lovely personality when they’d first met she thought dreamily, sinking her cheek further into the duck-down, soft pillow.

She
let her mind wander through the first week they’d got together, remembering how lovely, kind, and down to earth he’d been. They’d met through Frances at work and it had been, if not love, then lust at first sight, and by the end of their first date when he’d stared at her with those penetrating green eyes and devoured her mouth with the most passionate snog she’d ever had, she’d known he was going to be very special. She’d never kissed anyone like that before and remembered how her lips had felt on fire, and how she’d wanted to go on kissing him forever. In fact, she’d been so engrossed in the kiss that without realising it she’d started to slide from the edge of the leather settee and he’d caught her just in time to stop her falling. Afterwards, she couldn’t remember how or when she’d wrapped her legs around his body, because her mind had stopped thinking altogether and she’d been so completely caught up in the exquisite pleasure of feeling that she was part of him and he was part of her.

But
now, although the sex was still fantastic, it was the loving tenderness that seemed to be missing. Was this what happened to couples when they’d lived together for a while? Maybe it was a classic case of the honeymoon period being well and truly over. Deciding this was definitely a question for Sarah and Lisa on Saturday, she heard his key in the door.

“Hey,
gorgeous, thought you’d be wearing your little black dress for me,” he whispered into her ear while she felt him cradle her back with his body. His feet were cold when he selfishly wrapped them around hers, and she could smell red wine on his breath, so she lay very still, breathing deeply and hoped he would think she was asleep. It worked and she felt him pull her further into his body and start to lightly snore. Christ, if anyone would have told her six months ago that she’d be doing this she’d have laughed in their faces. But she wasn’t laughing now; she moaned softly and felt a tear leak out of the side of her eye.