Alberta Clipper (9 page)

She came in before he had a chance to answer, and placed the coffee in front of him.  She left her own paperwork down on the chair
Shay
had just vacated, and proceeded to tidy the desk as he sat there thinking about the possibility of trouble on the institutional trading team.  He watched her as she efficiently sorted through his mess, and made way for her as she walked around the table to leave him with a clear space to work at.  She was a funny one.  He had never seen her in flat shoes, but he had no doubt that she could walk to the London office and back in her heels if that was what was required of her.  She flirted outrageously with him, although she did the same with every male member of staff from what Mark could tell.  But it was a safe sort of flirtation.  There was never any suggestion of taking things further.  Just enough for both parties to feel better about themselves and go home to their partners with a renewed confidence. 

Petra was engaged anyway. 
Poor bloke.  Mark
wondered, as he watched her, if she would stay on at CarltonWachs after she married. 
He struggled with the
picture of her at home with young
children
, but then, what did he know.  She would probably be great at it, especially if she ran
a household anything like she organised Mark.  Maybe he should let her do more for him.  She certainly seemed eager to.  He just wasn’t accustomed to being waited on at home or at work.  Perhaps he should change his attitude towards her.

“Petra?”

“Yes Mark.”

“What would you do with this place?”  He gestured vaguely around him.  “If you were to make
some changes?  To make it more,
comfortable to work in
?
” 

Her initial silence worried him.  Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.  It wasn’t her brief to act as his personal interior designer.  “Oh, never mind
,
” he began
.
“
I -
”

But Petra wasn’t listening. 
“Well, firstly, you need a more co
mfortable space within the room,
”
she said
as she walked around the middle of the floor, one hand held to her chin, the other on her hip.  “You don’t need to be sitting at a desk all day.  You can easily work from your laptop or
BlackBerry
in a more relaxed space.  A small, firm sofa would be perfect here.”  She waved her hand at the space beneath the window which was currently cluttered with piles of trade journals Mark hoped to peruse one day.  “You wouldn’t need this,” she laid her hand gently on a small meeting table surrounded by three ugly office-issue chairs.  “You can meet individuals in this area,” pointing to the imaginary couch, “and any more formal discussions can be held at your desk, which is more appropriate.”  She smiled at him.  This was obviously something she had given prior consideration to.  “Any larger meetings should be held in the meeting room.”  She gestured out across the fourth floor. 

“Right.  Well I -
”

“Also -
” 

Mark closed his mouth again. 

“Some softer touches would make the space more – you.
 
A plant, a painting perhaps?  Ultimately,” she sat down opposite him, “the room should be functional, it should take account of the new technologies we use.  You no longer need to be chained to your desk.  But it should also be a space that you like aesthetically.”  She smiled at him.

“You obviously like this sort of thing?” he said
after a moment
.

“It’s a little hobby of mine.”  She shrugged, and flicked her poker straight hair back over her shoulders.  “So, should we get started on your diary?”

“Yes, yes of course.”  He reached for his
BlackBerry
and a leather-bound filofax.  “But how would you feel about, maybe,
sorting it out for me?  The office
?  I could give you a budget, and you could have free reign.  You come up with a plan, and I will okay anything you want me to.  Colour-wise, or whatever.”

“Certainly Mark.  I’d be glad to.”

“And,” he looked at her carefully, “you don’t feel it’s outside your job description?  I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Mark.  My brief is to be your PA.  Personal Assistant.  If that means booking your flights, or buying Jennifer’s Christmas gift, or re-decorating your office, if it makes your job here more effectual, then that’s what I am paid to do.”  She took a breath, and softened her tone.  “And I’d like to do it for you.”

She smiled at him
again
.  And then she put her folder on the desk between them, and opened it to begin organising his life. 
Confronted by her kindness
, Mark suddenly felt miserable.

“Right so.  Thanks Petra.  Er, I’ll be back in one second.”  He left the room and went out across the lobby to the men’s washroom.  He stood at the sinks and splashed cold water on his face.  Then he looked at his phone for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. 

But there was no text from Jennifer.

As he turned the key in the door that evening, Mark half expected to see suitcases packed and waiting in the hallway.  But there were none.  Jennifer’s car was outside, so he knew she was home.  He was supposed to be playing squash with an old friend from college, and his plan was to come in, grab his stuff and head straight back out.  He had taken the decision mid-afternoon when Jennifer had not contacted him or taken his calls.  It would be easier for both of them.  He dreaded the thought of discussing what they would eat for dinner, or something equally banal.  He would go play squash with Tom, maybe go for a pint afterwards, and come home late enough that she would be in bed, and they could shun any realities for another twenty-four hours. 

He set his laptop case against the hall table and bolted up the stairs to change and get his racket and gear.  There was no sign of her.  Ready to go, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen.  She was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in front of her and nothing else.  It wasn’t like her to be sat doing nothing.  She was always doing something.  She looked up as he came in.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Instinct told him he wasn’t going out to play squash.  He thought to go and get his phone which was with his laptop, but then decided against leaving the room. 

“Can you sit down?”  She looked at the racket in his hand.  “Are you going out?”

No.  He was going nowhere.  He pulled out a chair at the table, and sat down facing her.  She fingered her glass of wine as they sat for a moment.  Mark could hear a lawnmower and children squealing in play a few gardens away.

“I was offered a position back in March.”  She seemed to be talking to the wine glass.  “A year-long professorship at Edinburgh University.  I declined it.  I wasn’t even going to mention it.  But now.”  Her phone beeped in her pocket, and she checked it and pushed it away across the table.  “I’ve decided I’m going to go.  I wasn’t sure if they’d still want me, but they do.  I spent the day in the Dean’s office, getting things sorted.  He’s been very
accommodating
.”  She looked up at Mark who sat in silence listening.  His head felt hot.  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back today.  I just, I wanted to be able to confirm all the arrangements before we spoke.”

“And now they are?”

“What?”

“The arrangements.  They’re confirmed?”

“Well, yes.  I’ll finish up here next week.  Once my papers are all corrected, I can leave.  I’ve already looked into renting in Edinburgh.  The college will pay for it.”

He stared at her glass of wine for a moment, before reaching over and taking a swig from it.  Eugh.  Chardonnay.

“Mark?”

“Yes.”

“This is the best thing to do.  Mark?”

“Is it?”

“Yes.  It is.  I’m not sure I want to, to break up,” the words seemed not to come out of her mouth right, and she had to swallow.  “But I don’t want to stay here right now.  With you.”

Somewhere in his head, this all made perfect sense.  In fact, it was the perfect way forward.  They could try living apart under these circumstances.  They wouldn’t have to make any confessional explanations to friends and fa
mily.  Although her sister Sheil
a would most certainly know.  That was probably her, texting to see how the news had gone down with him as her phone beeped again.  He would stay here, she would go to Edinburgh.  For a year.  They’d have a year to see what it meant not to be together. 

But another part of his brain was
castigating
him for being the instigator of all this.  He could have kept his mouth shut. 

And yet another part of him felt something else.  He looked across at the woman he had shared ten years with.  The person he had most loved in the world.  He looked at her, and he saw soft brown hair and serious eyes.  He saw the
face that had loved him back.  A face more familiar to him than his own.

And he felt hurt. 

He stood up, the chair making a loud scraping noise on the tiled floor. 

“Where are you going?”

He picked up his racket and bag.  “I’m meeting Tom at seven thirty.”  He looked at his watch.  “I’m going to be late.”

“Wow!  No hanging around for you guys, huh?”  Emily squealed down the phone at Christine.

“Yeah, well.  As you yourself told me, I’m too old for playing games.”  She switched on her PC, and stuffed her bag into her desk drawer.  “Anyway, it was he who phoned me.”

“So where are you going?”

“Dun Laoghaire.”

“Ah,” Emily put on her best wistful tone.  “Myself and Jack had some very romantic early dates in Dun Laoghaire.  A walk on the pier.  Hot whiskies and fish pie snuggled up by an open fire in a cosy pub.”

“
It’s July, Emily.”

“Okay, so cocktails looking out over the sea.”  Emily continued her rhetoric.  “Skinny dipping at the Forty Foot.”

“Hopefully not in that order.”

“Of course, of course.  Anyway, whatever you get up to, it’ll be back to your place for a repeat of last Saturday night, I suppose?”

“Emily!  Just because he stayed over once, does not mean he will again.  I’m not completely easy, you know.”

“Of course you’re not, of course you’re not.  Well, I’m all for it.  You’re just making up for lost time
,
girl.  But now, if you’ll excuse me, the sun and my book are waiting for me in the garden.  Enjoy your day in the office.”

“I’m going to write to someone to complain about all the layabout teachers around.  Giving bad example to their students.  Get yourself a summer job, you slacker.”

“Now, now,” Emily
never rose to the bait.  “You’
re just jealous.  See if you still want my job when September comes around again.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, gotta go.  Kisses to Craig.  Tell him if he needs a break, I’m home in the garden. 
The parents
are gone west for a few days, and Jack will be at work til at least six.  No chance of us getting caught until then.”

“And you call me the floozy?”  Christine smiled down the phone.  “Later.  Don’t get sunburned.” 

“I’ll try not,” Emily said.

Christine sat trying to
prioritise the items on her to-
do list.  Wednesday.  She had a conference call later in the afternoon with the UK and US offices which she needed to prepare for.  She had a report to finish for Mark before that.  And she had to make ready for a trip to London the following week.  She had decided to fly out on Sunday evening, rather than face the four
AM
wake-up call on Monday morning.  She’d be there until next Wednesday night.  Her birthday was Tuesday, but there was nothing she could do about it.  The meeting involved staff from the US and Singapore offices, so she couldn’t have rescheduled it, even if she had wanted to.  Which she hadn’t.  Turning twenty-nine was nothing to celebrate.  Although it was a little different now.  If she had been here, she might have gone for dinner somewhere nice with
Gavan
.  But less than a fortnight ago, she had expected to spend the evening having cocktails with Emily and maybe some of the other girls.  Which wouldn’t have differentiated it from any other Tuesday night.  Anyway, she would be seeing
Gavan
on Friday.  And if he wanted to celebrate her birthday with her, they could always make some arrangement for when she got back. 

She decided to get a coffee and get the report f
or Mark finished first.  Walking to the coffee room
, she noticed Marcus Wells going into Mark’s office.  As he closed the door behind them, Mark turned and looked straight at her.  He looked worried, more so than usual.  But he had given her the smallest hint of a wave.  Weird.  Unlike Mark.  Christine wondered why Marcus Wells would be here.  If there was trouble in the UK office like she had heard, then it was more likely that he would be engaged over there.  Unless the trouble had involved the Irish office too.  But there had been no suggestion of that.  Christine made two coffees and strolled over to the reception desks.