Читать книгу: «Time After Time: A heart-warming novel about love, loss and second chances»

CHAPTER 2
Going Nowhere

The day before Hayley woke up in bed with her ex-boyfriend had been a complete and utter disaster. In fact, things had been sliding downhill before she’d even woken up. Her alarm clock didn’t go off, so she was already thirty minutes behind her impossibly tight schedule when she opened her eyes. While she crept around the house in the dark trying not to wake Rick and the kids, she’d knocked over Pickles’ bowl and squished the cold, jelly-like, not-so-delightful tuna cat treats right up between her toes. And just now at the office, the new intern, Jim, had bumped into her and spilled half a cup of lukewarm tea straight down her white shirt.

‘I-I’m so sorry, Hayley.’ Jim’s eyes almost popped out of his skull.

Hayley watched a blush creep over his chiselled cheekbones. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.

And you’re lucky you’re so flipping cute.

Waving a hand she added, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

She pulled on her shirt, trying to stop the fabric from sticking to her body. Jim apologised again, then made a swift exit, muttering something about papers he needed to file.

Hayley was about to make a dash for the loo to salvage her top when Charles stepped out of his office.

‘Never mind, Hayley,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, and with a smile that looked about as real as market-stall Rolex. ‘Good job that shirt’s polyester.’

‘It’s silk, you pathetic prat,’ she said under her breath.

‘What was that, Hayley?’ Charles gave her a cool stare.

She held his gaze. ‘Not hot, thank goodness for that.’ She made sure her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Instead she balled her fists, clenched her teeth and imagined tackling the bastard to the floor, then grinding his balls into the carpet with her high-heels. One at a time. Slowly. Ignoring his falsetto pleas for mercy. She wasn’t a violent person but for Charles Simpson she’d gladly make an exception. He’d always been a pain but he’d become the biggest dickhead in London since his father Ronald had died the previous year.

Hayley sighed. It wasn’t even nine-thirty, but at least it was Friday.

I should’ve stayed in bed. But I don’t need a duvet day. I need a flaming duvet decade.

‘My office, Hayley,’ Charles said sharply. ‘There have been developments.’

‘Developments?’ Her chest tightened. ‘What developments?’ She followed Charles to his office and closed the door behind them.

He sat down at his desk, crossed his legs and raised his chin. ‘I spoke with Thorsten Berger yesterday evening.’ Tap, tap, tap went his fingers on his mahogany desk. Tap, tap, tap. He sniffed. ‘They’ve decided to go with another law firm.’

Hayley’s eyes widened. ‘What? But the offer I put together it –’

‘Wasn’t good enough.’

‘I’ll call him, I –’

Charles held up a hand. ‘Don’t. He made himself crystal clear. I’ll talk to him again at some point. Maybe I can salvage some future business.’

‘If I speak to him, then maybe –’

‘Leave it, Hayley. You’re not to contact him. That’s an order.’ His icy stare met her eyes. ‘What’s that, the fourth potential client you’ve lost?’ He picked up the phone and gave her a dismissive wave. Head down, she turned and walked out.

‘I already heard the news,’ Tony said in a low voice as he caught up to her and they walked back to her office. ‘Got lectured about how we should have done more.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Told him we’d do better next time, that there are other clients in the pipe.’

‘You should have heard how he spoke to me. The look he gave me.’ She exhaled deeply. ‘We worked on that Berger offer for weeks.’

‘I know.’

‘Sodding Charles. You know he dumped it on me along with four other cases he was supposed to look after?’

‘I know.’

‘I missed Millie’s ballet recital and Danny’s first day in his new class. All for nothing. Nothing. And don’t say I know again.’ She flashed Tony a look.

He nodded. ‘I won’t. But don’t let him get to you.’

‘How? And how are you so calm? He pushes all of my buttons and then some. He’s such a backstabbing, sanctimonious shit.’

Tony chuckled, holding her office door open for her. ‘Amen to that.’

‘And he absolutely hates me’ She pulled out her chair and flopped. ‘Always has.’

‘You can blame Ronald for that. May the good man rest in peace.’ Tony smiled. ‘No one likes a teachers pet.’

‘You like me.’ She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

‘I do now, but it took years.’ Tony grinned and put his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t ever ask Angela what I said about you the first day we met.’

‘What do you mean? What did you say?’

‘That a right stuck up wannabe solicitor had joined the firm and I never wanted to work with her.’

‘Hey!’ She threw a handful of paperclips at him. ‘Your wife adores me.’

He laughed. ‘She does. I won’t deny it. Look, Charles always hated that you got along with Ronald better than he did. So ignore him.’ He shrugged. ‘Works for me.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks Tony, I’ll try.’

But ignoring their boss had become impossible, so after Tony left Hayley sat at her immaculate desk and fantasised about pushing Charles in front of a dozen runaway photocopiers, squashing him as flat as her enthusiasm. That wasn’t the only thing she daydreamed about these days. Not by a long shot. What if …? It was a game she caught herself playing more often than she’d ever admit. She shook her head.

Stop fantasising and take action, Hayley!

She pulled out her mobile phone and punched in Isamu Lewis’ number.

‘Isamu Lewis.’

Hayley smiled. The pint-sized head-hunter from Ashford DeVille had the voice of an angel and the killer instinct of a Siberian Tiger. If there was a law job up for grabs in London, Isamu knew about it. She’d sent along a number opportunities over the past few months, none that Hayley had seriously wanted to consider. Not until now. But the excuse of better the devil you know was wearing as thin as Miley Cyrus’ underwear. Particularly as the devil was Charles bloody Simpson.

‘Isamu, hi,’ Hayley said, getting up to close the door to her office.

‘Hayley, how are you?’

‘I’ve been getting more excited about the job with Williamson, and I think I –’

‘Yeah, look –’

‘Have you heard back from them yet? I know I said the commute’s longer but I’ll just have to cope. I’ll dance on the bloody desks at lunchtime for all I care. Just tell me there’s a –’

‘Hayley,’ Isamu said sweetly. ‘Will you shut up for a second?’

‘Sorry.’

‘It fell through.’

‘What?’ Hayley’s voice went up a few notches.

Isamu sighed. ‘Just found out the buggers filled the position internally. I was about to call you.’

Hayley drew a sharp breath. ‘Shit! But they … they said …’

Don’t whine. Don’t you dare.

She cleared her throat, let out a small laugh. ‘So, you’re saying I have to continue dancing on the desks here?’

‘Sorry, hon,’ Isamu said. ‘I’ve tried everything but we have to let this one go.’

Hayley swallowed. ‘Got anything else up your sleeve?’

‘Klingel’s are looking.’

‘Forget it,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘They overcharge and under deliver. I’d rather be broke than –’

‘I was joking.’

Hayley puffed out her cheeks. ‘Oh. Phew. Seriously then, what else do you have?’

‘Nothing at the moment,’ Isamu said. ‘But I’ll call you when I do. Let me see what I can find next month, but then everything will slow down over Christmas, probably until at least mid-January. Okay?’

‘Understood. Let me know if anything comes up. Okay? Anything.’

‘Absolutely. We’ll get you sorted. Got to go. Sit tight for a few months. Bye.’ Isamu hung up.

Sit tight? Here?

‘Oh come on!’ She smacked her palm on the table. ‘I’ve lost the job and another client. Fucking hell!’

She sank into her chair and picked up a photograph of Rick, Millie and Danny. She’d taken it more than two years ago. They’d spent a week at the beach in Cornwall, flying kites and eating wickedly delicious mint-choc-chip ice-cream, running barefoot in the warm sand before flopping down and watching the sunlight dance on the waves. They hadn’t had a family holiday since.

Hayley looked at the photo in its porcelain frame and gently touched the green and red splodges of colour Millie’s little fingers had applied to the Mother’s Day present. She’d been so happy during that week in Cornwall. In love with her husband, with her children, with her life.

Since then I’ve become a permanent customer of Shitty Days R Us.

She sighed again, shook her head and picked up a file, ready to get to work for a client. Before she started reading her notes, she doodled Charles’ face on a yellow Post-it note and wrote ARSE underneath with thick red pen.

*

The moon was high in the sky before Hayley decided she’d better pack up her things – including work she had to do over the weekend – and head home. The air outside was cool, yet she sucked in a big lungful, hoping the damp fog would somehow have a calming effect on her. It didn’t, so she hurried down the street on the way to the tube station, her mind racing and her hands clammy. She’d hoped she’d be rushing back to share good news with Rick, that she’d brought on a new client, finally had some success at work again. They could have done with something positive, maybe they’d even have celebrated a little. Instead she’d be spending the weekend looking for a new job.

Her mobile phone rang and she fished it out of her coat pocket, her steps barely slowing.

‘Hi, Mum,’ Hayley said. At times she even surprised herself at how upbeat she could force herself to sound.

‘Hello, love. How are you? I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing. I called home but Rick said you weren’t back yet. You’re working late again. Are you okay?’

Hayley plastered a smile on her face and crossed her fingers. ‘Just on my way home. I’m fine.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. How’s Dad?’

‘We’ve had a good day today.’ Tenderness filled her mother’s voice. ‘He’s asleep now.’

‘That’s good. Mum. What about the new medicine? Any difference?’

‘No love. Even if it does help, it won’t be that quick.’

‘Not even a tiny bit?’

‘No. But it’s still early. The doctor said it takes time.’

Hayley cleared her throat as she walked down the steps to the station. ‘And you, Mum? Are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘As good as I can be.’ Her mother sighed. ‘But I was calling to check up on you. Will we see you all this weekend?’

Hayley closed her eyes. ‘I’m not sure yet. I’ll try.’

‘We’d love to see you, if you can.’

‘So would we. I’ll do my best, Mum.’ Hayley’s phone crackled. ‘I’m losing the connection. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Thanks, lo–’ The line went dead.

As Hayley slipped her mobile into her pocket she pictured her father, the once strong and active man now reliant on others for physical and financial help, confined to a wheelchair.

If only I’d been there.

Rick said she shouldn’t blame herself and she knew he was probably right. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering. Could she have done something? Would she have recognised the signs? She’d seen the F.A.S.T. adverts – Face, Arms, Speech, Time – so often. What if she’d been there?

What if?

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

I bet Dad would tell me how much he hates all the fuss.

Hayley smiled, genuinely this time.

And he’d have told me to sod off when we paid to make their house wheelchair accessible.

As the train arrived and started to slow down she stared at her moving reflection in the window and her smile disappeared. She felt much older than forty-two. Her face looked drawn, with bags under her eyes like overstuffed suitcases, and, thanks to the humidity, her long, brown hair had morphed into a shapeless, frizzy disaster. She got on the train, found a seat then fished an elastic band out of her bag and tried to smooth her hair into a ponytail.

I look like I’m auditioning for The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Her stomach lurched as she thought about looking for a job again. She knew all too well how hard it could be.

Especially when we’ve got two sets of finances to worry about.

Hayley looked down. The headline of a discarded copy of Metro on the seat next to her caught her eye: KLINGEL’S TO REPRESENT BOOTS BORRELLO.

Everybody had heard of Carmine Benedetto Borrello. The press dubbed him ‘Concrete Boots’ because no evidence tying him to any crimes had ever been found. Hayley put the paper back on the seat beside her.

Maybe I should go over to the dark side. I’d probably make more money.

She shuddered. Mergers and acquisitions might not be the sexiest area in law, but at least she’d never wake up next to a horse’s head.

It was gone eight o’clock when she arrived at their compact, terraced house in Chiswick. Although she’d attempted to run almost all the way home from Stamford Brook tube station in her heels, she knew that Millie and Danny would already be fast asleep. A pang of regret hit and her guilty conscience tut-tutted for good measure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home for a family supper during the week. Balancing everything – work, children, husband, parents, finances and household – was pushing her to the breaking point. Rick always said she should look after herself.

Well, duh. But when?

Even before she’d contacted Isamu, Rick kept asking Hayley why she didn’t tell Charles to shove his job up his backside.

Easy for him to say, most of the financial responsibilities are on me now.

She knew that was unfair, so she never said it out loud, but it didn’t stop the thought bubbling under the surface.

Hayley quietly opened the front door and walked into the hall. Rick sat at the kitchen table reading the paper, his glasses perched on the end of his nose and a glass of red wine in front of him. He glanced up, folded the paper and smiled at her. Hayley noticed how relaxed he looked and, inexplicably, it annoyed her. She’d always loved his easy-going, laissez-faire attitude, felt it kept her grounded, but now she often wanted to give Rick a shake. Instead she gave him a small wave, dumped her heavy bag on the floor, hung up her damp coat, took off her shoes and crept upstairs.

Millie was fast asleep, curled up in a ball with Jelly-Belly, her favourite teddy with the big gut and green eyes. Pickles purred and stretched at the foot of the bed. Hayley tickled him behind the ear, then smoothed down Millie’s auburn hair and kissed her cheek.

‘Sweet dreams, darling.’

Millie murmured something incomprehensible and Hayley smiled. Very quietly she snuck out of the bedroom and into Danny’s room. He lay higgledy-piggledy in his bed, arms flung out like a starfish, his dinosaur pyjama-top halfway up his belly. Hayley covered him with his SpongeBob SquarePants duvet and kissed him. She lingered at the doorway.

I should have ‘Crap Mum’ tattooed on my forehead.

‘Hey.’ Rick smiled when she walked into the kitchen in a fresh T-shirt. ‘Good day?’ He ran a hand over his stubble and through his greying hair. ‘Did you speak to Isamu?’

‘The job fell through.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Said they’d filled it internally. Isamu reckons I should sit tight for a few months.’

Rick shook his head. ‘Oh fuck, that sucks, big time. I’m sorry. Maybe it’s for the best though – you didn’t seem that keen –’

‘That’s not the point, Rick, I …’ She sighed as she rubbed her face.

He looked at her. ‘You want to talk about it?’

She shook her head.

Rick looked away, then finally said, ‘Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?’

‘No, thanks. Food’s the last thing on my mind right now. But did you get the Halloween costumes?’ Her imaginary pen was poised, ready to check a ‘Done’ box on her virtual to-do list.

‘Oh shit.’ Rick scrunched up his face and snapped his fingers. ‘I knew I should’ve done something else.’

She put her head down and her palms over her eyes. ‘Rick, I put a note on the fridge.’ She looked up and tried a smile which, she imagined, looked more like an unhinged grimace. ‘Never mind. Go tomorrow.’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry love, I can’t. I have to go over the website with the culinary school.’

‘Tomorrow?’

He nodded. ‘I’m seeing them in the morning. The site looks great, even if I do say so myself. I’ll show you later if you like? Anyway, glass of wine? How was the rest of your day?’

‘Utter bollocks. The Berger offer went tits up,’ Hayley said, tears prickling her eyes and she turned away.

Get a grip.

She couldn’t stand crying in front of people, not even Rick. If she lost control she didn’t think she’d ever regain it.

‘Shit.’ Rick’s brow furrowed. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know. But now I don’t have a job offer and I’ve lost another client.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m going to get reprimanded. Or fired.’

He snorted. ‘That’s a bit dramatic. There’s no way you’ll get fired.’

‘Rick –’

He waved a hand at her. ‘Charles couldn’t cope without you. Man, I was really looking forward to his reaction when you quit … Something else will come up. You could always tell him to –’

‘Shove it?’ Hayley let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘You’ve said that a hundred times. I can’t quit without a job to go to.’

‘You’ll find something. And you’d be a damn sight happier, that’s for sure.’

‘Would I? How? What would we live on?’ She waved an arm around. ‘Do you want to call Mum and tell her we can’t afford to support them anymore or shall I?’

Rick’s bright blue eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a dig at me again?’

‘What? No. I didn’t mean –’

‘I’m doing the best I can. And we agreed. Remember?’

How could she not? Six months before her dad’s stroke, Rick had come home one evening, pale and red-eyed. ‘They’re wiping out the entire department,’ he said, shaking his head and running his fingers through his greying hair. ‘All one hundred and twenty-six of us.’

He’d applied for jobs and she watched Rick’s confidence take a hit with every rejection letter he received, even more so when he didn’t hear from prospective employers at all.

‘Start the web-design business you’ve always dreamed of,’ she said one night. He protested, said it wouldn’t be fair on her. ‘I’ll support us,’ she replied. ‘Besides, I’ll be a partner soon. You should do it. We’ll manage.’

Now Hayley looked at Rick, took a deep breath. ‘I know what I said, but –’

‘I just don’t get how you can work for that stupid dick,’ Rick said.

Hayley nodded. ‘He’s definitely a dick. But he’s not stupid.’

Rick picked up the newspaper again. ‘All I’m saying is that you need to do something.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do something? What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing, Rick? I –’

He held up a hand. ‘Maybe you and Tony should go out on your own. Or speak to another recruiter,’ he said, his tone more subdued. ‘Okay? That’s all.’

Hayley knew he could tell she was dangling ten – badly in need of a pedicure – toes over the warpath. That’s why he was backing off; he preferred to leave her alone until she calmed down. It irritated the hell out of her sometimes. Why couldn’t he stand up and fight? Taking a deep breath she walked to the fridge, counting slowly.