Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller (6 page)

With a half-hearted
goodbye, he collected Max from the sitting room and walked out of the house. He
knew what he had to do about Gracie, but first he had the unenviable task of
breaking the news of his redundancy to his family.

Fired from work,
haunted by faceless spirits…could his day possibly get any worse?

‘You’ve
been what?’

‘Fired.’

‘Is this some kind of
joke?’

‘Afraid not.’

‘Why? They can’t do
that to-’

‘Calm down, will you?
Let me explain. Max, run and fetch your mother a glass of wine. I think she
could do with a drink.’
She’s not the only one
.

‘Okay, but wait ‘til I
get back. I want to hear this.’

Max left his parents
sitting together at the dining room table. Neither said a word as they waited
for their son to return. Unwilling to look his wife in the eye, Sam focused his
attention on the oversized pepper mill that appeared to have been made for a
giant rather than an ordinary human being. Max soon returned, setting the glass
of wine down on the table in front of his mother. She looked at him and smiled
a thank you, before returning her attention to her husband.

‘Go on,’ she said,
taking a sip from the glass.

‘There’s not a lot to
say,’ Sam said. ‘I was with Tom in the Board Room. We’d just finished
presenting our ideas on a new website to a client, when he asked me to stay
behind for a chat. I assumed it was for a debrief and a pat on the back, but
instead he sat me down and told me that the company was being restructured and
how going forward my services would no longer be required. Simple as that.’

‘Simple as that? Tom
can’t do that to you…he’s supposed to be your friend!’

‘That’s what I thought.
Some friend.’

‘He can’t just fire you
without any consultation or warning. Surely there must be some kind of policy
that needs following. A redundancy procedure or something?’

‘It’s a design agency,
Sarah, not a government department or multinational organisation. Even if there
is a relevant policy, nobody would stick to it. They never do.’

‘But you’re the only
copywriter they’ve got! How will they manage without you?’

‘They’re giving my job
to Gabby.’

‘The intern?’

‘Yep.’

Sarah gawped
open-mouthed at Sam as if he’d just revealed to her that he secretly enjoyed
walking around the house wearing nothing but her underwear. ‘You
are
joking, aren’t you?’

‘I wish I was. He
reckons she has what it takes, and she’s cheap. A damn sight cheaper than me,
anyway.’

Sarah’s face reddened
as if she were about to spontaneously combust. ‘Max,’ she said, struggling to
control her temper. ‘Be a good boy and go to your room, would you please?’

‘But mum!’

‘Just…do as I say. I
need to talk to your father in private. I’ll come and see you in a little while.’

‘Why am I always being
told to go away?’ he asked, climbing down from his chair and walking to the door.
‘I’m part of this family too you know.’ Neither parent answered him; the most
his father could manage was a limp nod, and his mother didn’t even look at him.
Letting out an exaggerated huff of frustration, Max left the room, slamming the
door behind him and stomping up the stairs to his bedroom.

When Sarah was
confident he was out of earshot, she said: ‘Gabby the intern? The girl Tom’s
been screwing behind Jane’s back?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Jesus Christ, Sam. You
can’t let him get away with this. It’s not fair!’

‘What am I meant to do?
Tell the Board? Threaten Tom that I’ll tell Jane if he doesn’t change his
mind?’

‘Yes! Why not?’

‘I’ll tell you why not.
For a start, the Board couldn’t give a shit about me. Compared to Tom I’m just
a minion. I’m not even on their radar.’

‘But you do all the
work.’

‘And Tom takes all the credit.
Secondly, there’s no way I’m prepared to tell Jane about Tom’s extra-curricular
activities. That’s not the sort of person I am, and Tom knows it.’

‘You’ve got to do something!
Surely you’re not just going to take this lying down?’
Like you did, Mrs
Railton
, she thought.
Lying down, on all fours, up against the wall; any
damn way Tom wanted you
.
Now both you AND your husband have been well
and truly screwed.

‘Of course not,’ Sam
said. ‘I’m going to call Tom in the morning and talk to him; see if I can
convince him to change his mind.

‘Good. Call him first
thing. Perhaps he might realise the error of his ways when he’s had a chance to
sleep on it.’

‘I hope so.’

‘And if that doesn’t
work, then I’ll talk to him.’

‘You bloody well
won’t!’

‘I bloody well will! We
can’t afford for you to lose your job, Sam. I can’t support the three of us by
myself.’

‘I’ll find another
job.’

‘Where? McDonald’s? In
case you haven’t heard, there’s a recession on. The only people companies are
hiring these days are over-qualified graduates who are so desperate for
experience that they’ll work like slaves for a pittance. And evidently some of
them’ll even sleep with their bosses if there’s a chance of a job at the end of
it. The bitch. Mind you, it’s not all her fault.
She’s
not the married
one.’

Sam watched as Sarah raised
the wine glass to her lips and took another sip of the dark red liquid. What he
wouldn’t do for a drink right now; a chance to render himself oblivious. It
wouldn’t take much: two or three glasses…maybe four. Why not? What harm would
it do? After all, he was the only person who genuinely believed he had a
full-on, bona-fide drink problem. Everybody else seemed to think his self-diagnosed
problem could be cured with a dose of good old-fashioned willpower. It might
even do him some good; help him to lighten up. Perhaps he was now mature enough
to manage a little moderation?

He stood up and walked
to the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To put the kettle on,’
he said. ‘Do you want anything?’

‘More of this,’ she said,
shaking the glass in her hand. ‘You may as well bring the bottle.’

‘Okay.’

As he entered the
kitchen, his eyes immediately sought out the opened bottle of Merlot and he went
over to it, admiring its elegant shape and attractive label.

Why not take a little
drink? The only person who’d mind would be you, and you’re hardly the best
judge of character. Christ, you couldn’t even see your best friend for what he
truly is; a lying, devious, self-serving bastard
.

He grasped the bottle
in his right hand and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the heavenly aroma of
temptation.

Just one sip. Just one.

He tipped the mouth of
the bottle to his lips, allowing it to linger against them as he imagined what
it would be like to drink from it. Slowly, he raised the base of the bottle up
towards the ceiling, deciding to throw caution to the wind and finally give in
to this most seductive of all mistresses. Why should he be denied that which
everyone else took for granted? Why should he be-’

‘Sam? What are you
doing in there? Hurry up, will you?’

Sarah’s voice shot
through him, snapping him out of his trance-like state. He could feel the beads
of sweat forming across his brow as he set the bottle down on the bench,
backing away from it as if it were a grenade about to explode. Memories of a
past ruined by alcohol came flashing across his field of vision, causing him to
stumble backwards against the wall.

‘Did you hear me, Sam?
Come on…we haven’t finished discussing this.’

He couldn’t reply. Dark
patches of sweat had formed across his light blue t-shirt. He began to shiver,
as the realisation of what he’d almost done dawned on him. His eyes remained
fixed on the bottle; he knew that he needed to get out of the kitchen. He hurried
out of the room and along the hallway, pausing at the bottom of the stairs only
to inform his wife that he was going to take a shower and go to bed.

By the time she’d
emerged from the dining room to ask him what was wrong, he’d already climbed
the stairs and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sarah didn’t
follow him, didn’t even call after him. Instead she reached into her handbag on
the hallway table and pulled out her phone. If Sam wasn’t prepared to fight his
corner, then she would have to do it for him.

When
Sam awoke the following morning he was surprised to find an empty space beside
him in bed. He was usually the first one up; one of the benefits of sobriety
was never having a hangover pinning you to your mattress. He checked his alarm
clock: 7.30am. He hardly ever woke up this late; as far as he was concerned,
7.30am was practically midday. In a fit of panic he threw back the covers and
leapt to his feet. It was only as he pulled on his dressing gown and stepped
into his slippers that he realised he had nothing urgent to get up for: no job,
no torturous commute; nothing but a free day ahead of him.

Unfortunately, the very
idea of freedom sent a shiver down his spine. He thrived on structure, relished
stability and routine. The very nature of his job as a copywriter required him
to create order out of chaos, to make sense from uncertainty. Having nothing to
do with his day did not appeal.

There was a note
waiting for him in the kitchen:
Didn’t want to wake you…don’t take this
lying down! Love you xx
. Sam smiled at the words
Love you
, words
that weren’t used often enough in the Railton house. Sarah may have had more
get-up-and-go in her little finger than he had in his entire body, but she
needn’t worry. Sam wasn’t about to give in to Tom Jackson without a fight. He wasn’t
as attractive and sexually available as Gabrielle Williams, but he was a damn
sight better at his job.

He poured himself a
coffee and sat down to plan his next move. He needed a strategy: there was no
point rushing into a conversation with Tom half-cocked. He had one chance to change
his mind. He couldn’t afford to waste it.

Part of him wasn’t even
sure he wanted his job back. Why should he go begging cap-in-hand to a man
who’d stabbed him in the back? He still couldn’t understand why Tom had acted
the way he had; why he’d acted so coldly. Maybe it was Gabby. Maybe Tom had
promised her Sam’s job in return for her sleeping with him. No, it couldn’t be
that. As pretty as she was, Gabby was no more than another notch in Tom’s
bedpost. Besides, she seemed too decent a person to play that kind of game.

So if it wasn’t Gabby,
then what? There was always the possibility that Tom was telling the truth,
that the decision to let Sam go was entirely a commercial one. Sam might not
have been a member of the inner sanctum, but he knew that times were tough and
business was scarce. And there was no denying that for a copywriter he was
handsomely remunerated, even if he was up there with the best. Perhaps it was
as simple as a cold-hearted financial calculation; maybe sentiment played no
part in the process. That would be the most plausible and perhaps the least
painful reason. If that was the case, then what would be the point in calling
Tom up and trying to change his mind? As Tom had said, the decision had been
taken higher up the food chain. What would be the use in calling him up if
there was no chance of it making the slightest bit of difference? Surely it
would be better to remain quiet and salvage at least a modicum of pride?

But something was
niggling Sam, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe the reason behind
his dismissal
was
financial, but if that was the case, then why had Tom
seemed so blatantly unapologetic? Okay, so he hadn’t exactly smiled when
delivering the news, but neither had he come across as overly contrite or
remorseful. More than anything else, it was Tom’s attitude that had upset Sam.
Had capitalism evolved to the point where firing a friend without so much as a
heartfelt apology was deemed to be socially acceptable? Were compassion and humility
no longer necessary in the modern workplace? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, Sam
needed to find out what the hell was going on.

Tom owed him that much
at least.

While
Sam may have been flummoxed as to why he’d been fired, there was no doubt in
Sarah’s mind. Nor was there any doubt that she was the only person to whom Tom
would listen. Which was why, at 8.00am that morning, while Sam was still tucked
up in bed, she found herself sitting outside his office, waiting for her lover,
her
former
lover, to arrive. She knew she was taking a huge risk in coming
here, but she had no choice. She owed it to her husband to make things right. She
knew what she had to do.

By the time Tom came
strolling down the corridor, she had convinced herself that everything would be
fine. She had known this man intimately for almost four years, and even though
the nature of their relationship had mainly been physical, she was confident
that if anyone could get through to him it would be her.

He smiled at her
warmly, and without saying a word he opened his office door and beckoned her
inside. She picked up her handbag from the floor and rose to her feet,
smoothing down her skirt before crossing the corridor and disappearing into the
room. He closed the door behind them, and then, checking that nobody was
watching, proceeded to turn down the blinds so they couldn’t be seen together.

‘Coffee?’

‘No thanks. I’m fine.’

‘Don’t mind if I-?’ he
said, helping himself to a cup and reaching for the jug.

‘No, go ahead.’ She
studied him as he poured the coffee, and for a moment she understood what it
was that used to turn her on so much. He seemed so self-assured, so in-control;
and for a woman married to a man like Sam Railton, there was no bigger turn-on.

‘I know why you’re
here,’ he said, sitting down and looking at her, ‘but I’m afraid you’re wasting
your time. The decision’s been made, Sarah. There’s nothing I can do about it.’

‘I think there
is
something you can do about it, Tom. For a start, you could explain to me why
you’ve just fired your best friend. And spare me the bullshit about costs and
finances. Sam more than earns his keep around here, and you know it.’

Tom sniggered and took
a sip of coffee. ‘Has he sent you here to do his dirty work?’

‘Of course he hasn’t.
He has absolutely no idea I’m here.’

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘Just…just answer my
question.’

‘Why should I? I might
be mistaken here, but didn’t you tell me that we’re finished? Didn’t you tell
me it was over?’

‘Come on, Tom. You knew
we couldn’t last forever.’

‘Why not?’

‘Hmm, let me see.
Maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with the small matter of us both
being married.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing, Tom.’

‘Fine. In that case I’m
afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you.’

Sarah stared at him and
shook her head disbelievingly. ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘That’s what?’

‘This…firing Sam…this
has nothing to do with finances, does it? It’s because I ended our affair when
I found out about Gabby.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘I’m right, aren’t I?
This is all about Tom Jackson’s battered ego. You let Sam go because I let you
go. A juvenile act of revenge.’

‘Again…bullshit. You
were good, Sarah, but you weren’t
that
good. And you weren’t the only
one keeping my bed warm.’

‘You bastard. You
pathetic coward.’

‘I think you should go.
I don’t want to see you again.’

‘Why, because I finally
decided to put Sam and Jane before the two of us? Can’t you see I had no other choice?’

‘No, I can’t if I’m being
honest. You had a choice to stay with me, and you
chose
not to. Sam
chose
to tell you about Gabby, even though I expressly asked him to keep his mouth
shut because I knew it would upset you. Everyone around me is making choices
that suit them, but what about me? What choice did you give me? You finished
it, remember? Not me. And now I’m getting even. I’m
choosing
to get
even.’

‘I’m not sure the Board
would appreciate your underhand tactics.’

‘Don’t blackmail me,
Sarah. For one, it doesn’t suit you, and for two, they wouldn’t listen to you.
They might own the company, but I run the fucking place. Believe me, your words
would fall on deaf ears.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

‘Fine, and maybe I
should let Sam know all about us. About how his precious wife is never happier
than when she’s taking it from behind in a swanky hotel room.’

‘Go to hell.’

‘I’m
in
hell,
Sarah. You put me there when you told me it was over.’

‘As if you ever cared
about me.’

‘Of course I cared. A
damn sight more than you seem to realise, anyway.’

‘What…what do you
mean?’ she said, her tone quieter and less aggressive.

Tom grinned as he
witnessed the desired effect of his change of tactics. ‘I mean,’ he said,
feigning a wistful glance into his coffee as he spoke, ‘that I may not have
been very good at showing it, but I thought the world of you. I still do.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?
Four years, and not once did you tell me how you felt.’

He shook his head in
mock regret, but inside he was glowing. He knew he had her now; just a little
more Jackson-magic needed to seal the deal. ‘I’ve always kept my cards close to
my chest. Perhaps that’s why I’ve done so well in business. I’m good at hiding
my emotions. The thing is, Sarah, I never wanted to hurt you or Sam – you know
I’ve always thought highly of him as a friend and a colleague – but when you
dropped that bombshell the other day…I…I guess I couldn’t handle it. I became
angry and resentful. I couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you together and
me all alone.’

‘You’re hardly alone,
Tom. What about Jane?’

Let’s see if this old
chestnut works
: ‘She doesn’t understand me the way you
do. She never has.’
Bullseye baby
.

Sarah sighed. ‘I don’t
understand you either, Tom.’

‘So why don’t you give
me another chance to try and help you to?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ he said,
smelling blood and moving in for the kill, ‘that perhaps you were too hasty in
calling it off between us, and perhaps I was too hasty in firing Sam. Maybe we both
moved too quickly without taking the time to fully consider the possible
consequences of our actions.’

‘What are you trying to
say? That if I continue to sleep with you, you’ll give Sam his job back and everything
will go back to normal?’

‘Maybe.’

‘That’s blackmail!’

‘It’s not blackmail,
Sarah. It’s life. It was wrong to fire Sam, and I regret it, but it was also
wrong of you to call time on the two of us. I’m not the same without you.’

‘I’m sure Gabby is
helping you to take your mind off me.’

‘Gabby? Seriously,
Sarah, she’s a nice girl but she can’t hold a candle to you. Please let’s start
again, eh? What do you say?’ He moved around the table and sat in the chair
beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder and bringing his face close to
hers. ‘Let’s go back to how it used to be and put all this behind us. I promise
I’ll be a good boy from now on.’ He winked at her and smiled. ‘Well, perhaps
not in every respect.’ Slowly, he leaned closer to kiss her, but just as he was
about to seal the deal she backed away and looked at him. There was something
that needed sorting before she gave in.

‘You promise to give
Sam his job back?’ she said, taking his hands in hers.

‘You promise to take
me
back?’

‘Okay.’ She felt her
pride slip down her throat as she spoke.

‘Then we have ourselves
a deal.’ With that, he went to kiss her, and this time she didn’t resist. She
felt herself freeze inside as their lips touched.

‘When are you going to
call Sam?’ she asked, breaking away from him.

‘Eh? Oh, I’ll call him
sometime this afternoon. I’m in meetings ‘til twelve.’ He smiled and kissed her
again. ‘What are you doing for lunch?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Well…if you had an
hour to spare, I was thinking maybe we could celebrate our reunion.’

‘Celebrate?’

‘But if you’re too
busy…’

She heard herself
hesitate before replying: ‘No, I’d like that.’

‘Great. I’ll book us a
room. Rankin Hotel for twelve-thirty?’

‘Fine. Now if you don’t
mind, I better get to work.’ She stood up and headed for the door. She turned
to face him and smiled; a sexy, seductive smile that caused him to stir in his
pants. Sensing his arousal, she blew him a kiss and left without saying a word,
closing the door behind her.

When he was alone, Tom
clapped his hands and jumped to his feet, delighted at his powers of seduction,
not to mention the promise of an hour of highly-charged bedroom action. He’d
worry about how to deal with that idiot husband of hers later…if at all.

Sarah hurried along the
corridor, her fabricated smile disintegrating as she wrestled with her
conscience. Now that she knew what Tom Jackson was really like, she didn’t want
to go anywhere near him, let alone sleep with the insipid bastard. But Sarah
Railton was a survivor, and she knew exactly what she had to do. If sleeping
with Tom one final time was the price she had to pay then so be it. Her blood
curdled at the thought of what lay ahead, but she had no other choice.

As soon as Sam had his
job back she would figure out a way to extract herself from Tom’s clutches, but
until then, she had no other option than to lie back and think of England.