Chapter Twenty-Two

I wake up to the view of a cracked, grubby ceiling. My eye runs along to a huge cobweb in the corner of the room, then down the wall to a rickety bookshelf stuffed with books, tapes, letters, old Christmas decorations, and the odd bit of discarded underwear.

How did I live in this mess for seven years?

How did I not notice it?

I push back the bedcover, get out of bed, and look around blearily. The carpet feels gritty under my feet and I wince. It needs a goodHoover . I guess the cleaner stopped coming after the money stopped appearing.

There are clothes lying all over the floor, and I search around until I find a dressing gown. I wrap it around myself and head out to the kitchen. Id forgotten how bare and cold and spartan it was in here. Theres nothing in the fridge, of course. But I find a chamomile tea bag and fill the kettle, and perch on a bar stool, looking out at the brick wall opposite.

Its already nine-​fifteen. Ketterman will be at the office. Hell be taking whatever action hes going to take. In spite of everything, I feel weirdly calm. Matters are out of my hands now; theres nothing further I can do.

He listened to me. He actually listened, and asked questions, and even made me a cup of tea. I was there for over an hour. He didnt tell me what he thought or what he was going to do. He didnt even say whether he believed me or not. But the fact that he took me seriously made all the difference.

The kettles coming to the boil when the doorbell rings. I pull my dressing gown around me and pad out to the hall. Through the spy-​hole I can see Mrs. Farley peering back at me, her arms laden with packages.

Of course. Who else?

I open the door. Hello, Mrs. Farley.

Samantha, I thought it was you! she exclaims. After all this time! I had no idea... I didnt know what to think...

Ive been away. I muster a neighborly smile. Im sorry I didnt let you know I was going away. But I didnt really have any warning myself.

I see. Mrs. Farleys eyes are darting all around, at my blond hair, at my face, and past me into the flat, as though searching for clues.

Thanks for taking in my parcels. I hold out my hands. Shall I...

Oh! Of course. She hands over a couple of Jiffy bags and a cardboard box, still obviously avid with curiosity. I suppose these high-​powered jobs do send you girls abroad with no notice

I havent been abroad. I put the boxes down. Thanks again.

Oh, its no trouble! I know what its like when youve had a... a difficult family time? she hazards.

I havent had a difficult family time, I say politely.

Of course not! She clears her throat. Well, anyway. Youre back now. From... whatever youve been doing.

Mrs. Farley. I try to keep a straight face. Would you like to know where Ive been?

Mrs. Farley recoils.

Dear me! No! Its absolutely none of my business! Really, I wouldnt dream of... I must be getting on... She starts backing away.

Thanks again! I call as she disappears back into her flat.

Im just closing the door as the phone rings. I pick up the receiver, suddenly wondering how many people must have rung this number over the last few weeks. The machine is crammed with messages, but after listening to the first three, all from Mum and each more furious than the last, I gave up.

Hello?

Samantha, comes a businesslike voice. John Ketterman here.

Oh. Suddenly my calmness is replaced by a serious case of nerves. Hi.

Id like to ask that you keep yourself available today. It may be necessary for you to speak to some people.

People?

Theres a slight pause, then Ketterman says, Investigators.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God . I feel like punching the air or bursting into tears. But somehow I keep my composure.

So have you found something out?

I cant say anything at the moment. Ketterman sounds as distant and formal as ever. I just need to know that youll be available.

Of course. Where will I have to go?

Wed like you to come here, to the Carter Spink offices, he says, without any trace of irony.

I look at the phone, almost wanting to laugh. Would that be the same Carter Spink offices I was thrown out of yesterday ? I feel like saying. The same Carter Spink offices Ive been banned from ?

Ill call you, adds Ketterman. Keep your mobile with you. It could be a few hours.

OK. I will. I take a deep breath. And please, just tell me. You dont have to go into specifics, but... was my theory right?

Theres a crackling silence down the phone. I cant breathe.

Not in every detail, says Ketterman at last, and I feel a painful thrill of triumph. That means I was right with some details, at least.

The phone goes dead. I put the receiver down and look at my reflection in the hall mirror, my eyes bright.

I was right. And they know it.

Theyll offer me my job back, it suddenly hits me. Theyll offer me partnership. At the thought Im seized with excitementand at the same time, a kind of fear.

Ill cross that bridge when I come to it.

I walk into the kitchen, keyed up, unable to stand still. What the hell am I going to do for the next few hours? I pour hot water onto my chamomile tea bag and stir it round with a spoon. And then I have an idea.

It takes only twenty minutes to pop out and get what I need. Butter, eggs, flour, vanilla, icing sugar. Baking tins. Mixers. A set of scales. Everything, in fact. I cannot believe how badly equipped my kitchen is. How did I ever do any cooking in here?

Well. I didnt.

I dont have an apron so I improvise with an old shirt. I dont have a mixing bowl and I forgot to buy oneso I use the plastic basin given to me as part of an aromatherapy kit. Two hours of whisking and baking later, Ive produced a cake. Three tiers of vanilla sponge, sandwiched with buttercream, iced with lemon glace, and decorated with sugar flowers.

I take it in with a glow of satisfaction. This is my fifth cake ever, and the first time Ive done more than two tiers. I take off my old shirt, check that my mobile is in my pocket, pick up the cake, and head out of the flat.

As Mrs. Farley answers the doorbell, she looks startled to see me.

Hi! I say. Ive brought you something. To say thank you for looking after my post.

Oh! She looks at the cake in astonishment. Samantha! That must have been expensive!

I didnt buy it, I say proudly. I made it. Mrs. Farley looks staggered. You... made it? Uh-​huh. I beam. Shall I bring it in and make you some coffee?

Mrs. Farley looks too thunderstruck to answer, so I head past her into the flat. To my shame I realize I havent been in here before. In three years of knowing her, I never once set foot over the threshold. The place is immaculately kept, full of little side tables and antiques and a bowl of rose petals on the coffee table.

You sit down, I say. Ill find what I need in the kitchen. Still looking dazed, Mrs. Farley sinks into an upholstered wing chair.

Please, she says faintly. Dont break anything.

Im not going to break anything! Would you like frothy milk? And do you have any nutmeg?

Ten minutes later I emerge from the kitchen, bearing two coffees and the cake.

Here. I cut Mrs. Farley a slice. See what you think. Mrs. Farley takes the plate. You made this, she says at last. Yes!

Mrs. Farley takes the slice to her mouth. Then she pauses, an anxious expression on her face.

Its safel I say, and take a bite of my own slice. See? I know how to cook! Honestly! Mrs. Farley takes a tiny bite. As shes chewing, her eyes meet mine in astonishment. Its... delicious! So light ! You really made this?

I whisked the egg whites separately, I explain. It keeps cakes really light. I can give you the recipe if you like. Have some coffee. I hand her a cup. I used your electric beater for the milk, if thats OK. It works fine, if you get it to just the right temperature.

Mrs. Farley is gazing at me as though Im talking gobbledygook.

Samantha, she says at last. Where have you been these last weeks?

Ive been... away somewhere. My eye falls on a duster and can of Pledge, sitting on a side table. She must have been in the middle of cleaning when I rang. I wouldnt use those dusters if I were you, I add politely. I can recommend some better ones.

Mrs. Farley puts down her cup and leans forward in her chair. Her brow is wrinkled in concern.

Samantha, you havent joined some sort of religion?

No! I cant help laughing at her face. Ive just been... doing something different. More coffee?

I head into the kitchen and froth up some more milk. When I return to the sitting room, Mrs. Farley is on her second slice of cake.

This is very good, she says between bites. Thank you.

Well... you know. I shrug, a little awkward. Thanks for looking out for me all that time.

Mrs. Farley finishes her cake, puts her plate down, and regards me for a few moments,

her head cocked to one side like a bird.

Dear, she says finally. I dont know where youve been. Or what youre doing. But whatever it is, youre transformed.

I know my hairs different I begin, but Mrs. Farley shakes her head.

I used to see you, rushing in and out, arriving home late at night, always looking so weary . So troubled. And I used to think you looked like... like the empty shell of a person. Like a dried-​up leaf. A husk.

A dried-​up leaf? I think in indignation. A husk ?

But now youve blossomed! You look fitter, you look healthier... you look happy. She puts her cup down and leans forward. Whatever youve been doing, dear, you look wonderful.

Oh. Well... thanks, I say bashfully. I suppose I do feel different. I suppose Im more relaxed these days. I take a sip of coffee and lean back in my chair, mulling it over. I enjoy life a bit more than I used to. I notice more than I used to

You havent noticed your phones ringing, Mrs. Farley interrupts mildly, nodding at my pocket.

Oh! I say in surprise, and grab my phone. I should get this. Excuse me. I flip it open and immediately hear Kettermans voice in my ear. Samantha.

I spend three hours at the Carter Spink offices, talking in turn to a man from the Law Society, two of the senior partners, and a guy from Third Union Bank. By the time we finish I feel drained from repeating the same things over and over to the same carefully blank faces. The office lights are making my head ache. Id forgotten how airless and dry the atmosphere is here.

I still havent worked out exactly whats going on. Lawyers are so bloody discreet. I know someones been to seeArnold at his home and thats about it. But even if no ones going to admit it, I know I was right. Ive been vindicated.

After the last interview, a plate of sandwiches is brought to the small conference room Im in, together with a bottle of mineral water and a muffin. I get to my feet, stretch out my arms, and wander over to the window. I feel like a prisoner in here. Theres a tapping at the door and Ketterman comes into the room.

Have we finished yet? I say.

We may need to speak to you again. He gestures to the sandwiches. Have something to eat.

I cannot stay in this room a moment longer. I have to stretch my legs, at least.

Ill just go and freshen up first, I say, and hurry out of the room before he can object.

As I enter the Ladies, all the women in there stop talking immediately. I disappear into a cubicle and hear the sound of excited whisperings and murmurings outside. As I come out again, not one person has left the room. I can feel all the eyes on me, like sunlamps.

So are you back now, Samantha? says an associate called Lucy.

Is it true you were a waitress? chimes in a secretary from Litigation.

Not exactly. I turn away to the sink, feeling self-​conscious.

You look so different , says another girl.

Your arms! says Lucy as I wash my hands. Theyre so brown. And toned . Have you been to a spa?

Er... no. I pull down some paper towel. But thanks. So, hows life been here?

Good. Lucy nods a few times. Really busy. Clocked up sixty-​six billable hours last week. Two all-​nighters.

I had three, puts in another girl. I can see the pride in her face. And the dark gray shadows under her eyes. Is that what I used to look like? All pale and strained and tense?

Great! I say politely, drying my hands. Well, Id better get back now. See you.

I exit the Ladies and am walking back to the conference room, lost in my own thoughts, when I hear a voice.

Oh, my God, Samantha ? Guy ? I look up in shock to see him hurrying down the corridor toward me, his smile

even more dazzling than ever. I wasnt expecting to see Guy here. In fact, I feel a bit thrown by the sight of him. Wow. He grips my shoulders tightly and scans my face. You look fantastic.

I thought you were inHong Kong .

Got back this morning. Ive just been briefed on the situation. Bloody hell, Samantha, its incredible. He lowers his voice. Only you could work all that out. Arnold , of all people. I was shell-​shocked . Everyone is. Those who know, he adds, lowering his voice still further. Obviously its not out yet.

I dont even know what the situation is, I reply, with a touch of resentment. No ones telling me anything.

Well, they will. Guy reaches into his pocket, gets out his Blackberry, and squints at it. You are flavor of the month right now. I knew it all along. He looks up. I knew you could never make a mistake.

What? How can he say that?

No, you didnt, I reply at last, finding my words. No, you didnt. If you remember, you said Id made errors. You said I was unreliable.

I can feel all the old hurt and humiliation starting to rise again and look away.

I said other people had said you made errors. Guy pauses in tapping at his Blackberry and looks up, frowning. Shit, Samantha. I did stand up for you. I was on your side. Ask anyone!

Thats why you wouldnt have me to stay.

But I dont say anything out loud. I really dont want to get into it. Its history.

Fine, I say at last. Whatever.

We start walking along the corridor together, Guy still engrossed in the Blackberry. God, hes addicted to that thing, I think with slight irritation.

So where the hell did you disappear to? At last he stops tapping. What have you been doing all this time? Youre not really a waitress ?

No. I cant help smiling at his expression. Im not. Ive got a job. I knew youd get snapped up. He nods with satisfaction. Whos employed you? Oh... no one youd know.

Youre in the same area, though? He puts his Blackberry away. Doing the same kind of work?

I have a sudden vision of me in my blue nylon overall, mopping Trishs bathroom floor.

Er... as it happens, not really. Somehow I keep a straight face. Guy seems surprised.

But youre still in banking law, right? Dont tell me youve made a complete change? He suddenly looks galvanized. You havent gone into commercial law, have you?

Um, no... not commercial law. Id better go. I cut him off and open the door to the interview room. See you later.

I eat my sandwiches, I drink my mineral water. For half an hour no one disturbs me. I feel a bit like Im in quarantine for some deadly illness. They could have given me some magazines, at least. Ive developed quite a habit for gossip, after being surrounded by Trishs endless supply of Heat and Hello !

At last I hear a knock at the door and Ketterman comes in. Samantha. We would like to see you in the boardroom. The boardroom ?

I follow Ketterman down the corridors, aware of the nudges and whisperings from everyone we pass. He opens the huge double doors to the boardroom and I walk in to see about half the partners standing there, waiting for me. Theres silence as Ketterman closes the doors. I glance at Guy, who grins back encouragingly but says nothing.

Am I supposed to speak? Did I miss the instructions? Ketterman has joined the group of partners. Now he turns to face me.

Samantha. As you know, an investigation of... recent events is under way. The results have not yet been fully determined. He breaks off, looking tense, and I can see some of the others exchanging sober looks. However, we have come to one conclusion. You were... wronged.

Im stupefied. Hes admitting it? Getting a lawyer to admit theyve made a mistake is like getting a movie star to admit they had liposuction.

Im sorry? I say, just to force him to repeat it.

You were wronged. Ketterman frowns, clearly not enjoying this part of the conversation at all. I almost want to laugh.

I was... wrong? I hazard, looking puzzled.

Wronged! he snaps. Wronged!

Oh, wronged . Well, thank you. I smile politely. I appreciate that.

Theyll probably offer me some kind of bonus, it crosses my mind. A luxury gift basket. Or even a holiday.

And therefore Ketterman pauses. We would like to offer you full equity partnership in the firm. Effective immediately.

Im so shocked I nearly sit down on the floor. Full equity partnership ?

I open my mouthbut I cant speak. I feel winded. I look around helplessly, like a fish on the end of a line. Full equity partnership is the highest pinnacle, way above the first rung of partnership. Its the most prestigious job in law. I never, ever, ever expected that.

Welcome back, Samantha, says Greg Parker.

Welcome back, chime in a few others. David Elldridge gives me a warm smile. Guy gives me the thumbs-​up.

We have some champagne. Ketterman nods to Guy, who opens the double doors. The next moment two waitresses from the partners dining room are coming in with trays of champagne glasses. Someone puts one in my hand.

This is all going too fast.

Er... excuse me? I call out. I havent actually said if Ill accept it.

The whole room seems to freeze, like a videotape on pause.

Im sorry? Ketterman turns to me.

Oh, God. Im not sure theyre going to take this very well.

The thing is... I break off and take a sip of champagne for Dutch courage, trying to work out how to put this tactfully.

Ive been thinking about it all day, over and over. Being a partner at Carter Spink is the dream Ive had all my adult life. The glittering prize. Its everything I ever wanted...

Except all the things I never knew I wanted. Things I had no idea about until a few weeks ago. Like fresh air. Like evenings off. Unburdened weekends. Making plans with friends. Sitting in the pub after my work is done, drinking cider, with nothing to do, nothing hanging over me.

Even if theyre offering me full equity partnership, it doesnt change the way I feel. It doesnt change me. Mrs. Farley was right: Ive blossomed. Im not a husk anymore.

Why would I go back to being a husk?

I clear my throat.

Its a tremendous honor to be offered such an amazing opportunity, I say earnestly. And Im very grateful. Truly. However... the reason I came back wasnt to get my job back. It was to clear my name. To prove that I didnt make a mistake. I cant help shooting a look at Guy. The truth is, since leaving Carter Spink Ive... well... moved on. I have a job. Which I very much enjoy. So I wont be taking up your offer.

Theres a stunned silence.

Thank you, I add again, politely. And... er... thanks for the champagne.

Is she serious ? says someone at the back. Ketterman and Elldridge are exchanging frowns.

Samantha, says Ketterman, coming forward. You may have found opportunities elsewhere. But you are a Carter Spink lawyer. This is where you trained, this is where you belong.

If its a question of salary, adds Elldridge, Im sure we can match whatever youre currently He glances at Guy. Which law firm has she gone to?

Wherever you are, Ill speak to the senior partner, says Ketterman in a businesslike way. The personnel director... whoever would be appropriate. Well sort this out. If you give me a number. Hes taking out his Blackberry.

My mouth twists. I desperately want to laugh.

There isnt a personnel director, I explain. Or a senior partner.

There isnt a senior partner? Ketterman looks impatient. How can there not be a senior partner?

I never said I was working as a lawyer.

Its as if Ive said I think the world is flat. I have never seen so many flummoxed faces in my life.

Youre... not working as a lawyer? says Elldridge at last. What are you working as, then?

I was hoping it wouldnt come to this. But on the other hand, why shouldnt they know?

Im working as a housekeeper. I smile.

Housekeeper? Elldridge peers at me. Is that the new jargon for troubleshooter? I cant keep up with these ridiculous job titles.

Youre on the compliance side? says Ketterman. Is that what you mean?

No, its not what I mean, I say patiently. Im a housekeeper. I make beds. I cook meals. Im a domestic.

God, I wish I had a camera. Their faces .

Youre literally... a housekeeper ? stutters Elldridge at last.

Uh-​huh. I look at my watch. And Im fulfilled and Im relaxed and Im happy. In fact, I should be getting back. Thank you, I add to Ketterman. For listening to me. Youre the only one who did.

Youre turning down our offer? says Oliver Swan incredulously. Im turning down your offer. I give an apologetic shrug. Sorry. Bye, everyone.

As I head out of the room I feel slightly wobbly about the legs. And slightly manic inside. I turned it down. I turned down full equity partnership of Carter Spink.

What the hell is my mother going to say?

The thought makes me want to burst into hysterical laughter.

I feel too keyed up to wait for the lift, so I head down the stairwell, clattering down the cold stone steps.

Samantha! Guys voice suddenly echoes above me. Oh, honestly. What does he want? Im going! I yell back. Leave me alone! You cant go!

I can hear him accelerating down the steps, so I pick up speed myself. Ive said my piece

what more is there to talk about? My shoes are clacking on the steps as I tear down, gripping on the handrail for balance. But even so, Guys gaining on me.

Samantha, this is crazy!

No, its not!

I cant let you ruin your career out of... out of... pique! he calls, and I wheel round indignantly, nearly falling down the stairs.

Im not doing this out of pique!

I know youre angry with us all! Guy joins me on the staircase, breathing hard. Im sure it makes you feel really good to turn us down, to say youre working as a housekeeper

I am working as a housekeeper! I retort. And Im not turning you down because Im angry. Im turning you down because I dont want the job.

Samantha, you wanted partnership more than anything else in the world! Guy grabs my arm. I know you did! Youve worked for it for all these years. You cant throw it away! Its too valuable.

What if I dont value it anymore? Its been less than two months! Everything cant have changed! It has. I have. Guy shakes his head in disbelief. Youre really serious about the housekeeper thing. Im really serious, I snap. Whats wrong with being a housekeeper?

Oh, for Gods He stops himself. Look, Samantha, come upstairs. Well talk about it. The human-​resources department has come on board. You lost your job...you were badly treated... its no wonder you cant think straight. Theyre suggesting counseling.

I dont need counseling! I turn on my heel and start down the stairs again. Just because I dont want to be a lawyer, what, Im crazy ?

I reach the bottom of the stairwell and burst into the foyer with Guy in hot pursuit. Hilary Grant, head of PR, is sitting on a leather sofa with some red-​suited woman I dont recognize, and they both look up in surprise.

Samantha you cannot do this! Guy is shouting after me as he emerges into the foyer. You are one of the most talented lawyers I know. I cannot let you turn down partnership

to be a fucking... housekeeper .

Why not, if its what I want to do? I come to a halt on the marble and spin round to face him. Guy... Ive found out what its like to have a life! Ive found out what its like not working every weekend. Not feeling pressure all the time. And...I like it!

Guy isnt listening to a word I say. He doesnt even want to understand.

Youre going to stand there and tell me you prefer cleaning loos to being a partner at Carter Spink? His face is flushed with outrage.

Yes! I say defiantly. Yes, I do!

Whos that? says the woman in the red suit with interest.

Samantha, youre making the biggest mistake of your entire existence! Guys voice follows me as I reach the glass doors. If you walk out now

I dont wait to hear any more. Im out the door. Down the steps. Gone.

Youre making the biggest mistake of your entire existence. As I sit on the train back to Gloucestershire, Guys words keep ringing in my ears.

Once upon a time, just that thought would have sent me into a tailspin. But not anymore. He has no idea.

If Ive learned one lesson from all thats happened to me, its that there is no such thing as the biggest mistake of your existence. Theres no such thing as ruining your life. Lifes a pretty resilient thing, it turns out.

When I arrive atLower Ebury I head straight to the pub. Nathaniel is behind the bar, wearing a chambray shirt Ive never seen before, talking to Eamonn. For a few moments I just watch him from the doorway. His strong hands; the slant of his neck; the way his brow furrows as he nods. I can tell at once he disagrees with whatever Eamonn is saying. But hes waiting, wanting to be tactful about making his point. He knows how people work.

As if he can sense me watching him, he looks up and his face jolts. He smiles in welcomebut I can see the tension underneath. This last couple of days cant have been easy for him. Maybe he thought Id get suckered in to my old relationship, that I wasnt coming back.

A roar goes up from the dartboard. Bill, a local farmer Ive gotten to know, turns and spots me walking toward the bar.

Samantha! he shouts. At last! We need you on our team!

In a sec! I call over my shoulder. Hi, I say as I reach Nathaniel. Nice shirt.

Hi, he says casually. Good trip?

Not bad. I nod. Nathaniel lifts up the bar for me to come through, his eyes searching my face as though for clues.

So... is it over? Yes. I put my arms around him and hug him tight. Its over. And at that moment, I truly believe it is.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 711