Chapter 29
29
The press descended on her the moment she left the stage, phones out, ready to record. What was her name again? Where was she from? What did she do when she first saw the photograph? How did she end up speaking here today? She smiled the best smile she could manage, given the adrenaline that was still coursing through her. Of course, she had been devastated. Yes, she’d substantially reduced her use of plastic and, no, she couldn’t be entirely certain the balloon was hers. When she finally broke free, she made her way to Professor Arkell.
‘I thought there was supposed to be someone else speaking after me?’ she queried, picking up an abandoned programme. ‘Yes, there were. Two.’
He shook his head. ‘You really think anyone was going to try and follow that? Are you kidding? No way. Believe me, what you did up there was incredible.’
Pride positively radiated from her.
‘Do you think it will make a difference?’
‘If it doesn’t, I don’t know what the hell will.’
A number of shocked and angry people were beginning to filter past her, only to be confronted themselves by members of the press, John Orbiten being among them. Good, she thought, they deserved to stew. The lot of them. And it felt so good to watch.
‘Look,’ Professor Arkell cleared his throat. ‘My train isn’t for another two hours. I don’t suppose you’d like to get a drink? Purely platonically of course.’ He raised his left hand and displayed his wedding band. ‘Just two environmental crusaders sharing a quiet victory celebration?’
She sighed with relief at the sight of the ring. The last thing she needed was more complication in her life but she did need to unwind. ‘Yes. That would be wonderful.’
Turning to leave, she found her path blocked by a petite woman in a short, grey dress. ‘Ms Reeves, my name’s Catherine Green. I work for the City Times . I’m sure you’re incredibly busy right now, but I was wondering if you might give me a call, later in the week perhaps, and we could get together? I’d love to talk to you about doing an article regarding what you had to say tonight.’
She held out her card for Fiona to take.
‘That would be great,’ Fiona said, exchanging a look with Professor Arkell. ‘That would be fantastic.’
It wasn’t until Ben had left for the station, and Fiona was on her own, that her thoughts turned to Rory. Looking at her phone, she began scrolling through her new text messages. There were a number from him, all supportive and caring, and then asking how it had gone. All bullshit, she thought. She ignored them, went to contacts and rang Holly.
‘How was it? Are you an eco-warrior queen or something now?’ her friend asked.
‘You know what? I feel like I might be.’ Fiona smiled to herself. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got room for a very late dinner, have you?’
‘I sure have,’ Holly answered without hesitation. ‘You want me to pick something up and bring it over to yours?’
‘Are you all right with that?’
‘See you in an hour.’
‘Perfect.’
Given that Holly was almost certainly going to be late, she had run herself a bath and switched on the radio. For a short while, she’d attempted to read, but the music and her thoughts – most predominantly, now, her thoughts about Rory – kept interrupting her concentration. What hurt so much was how quickly she’d imagined herself slipping into his life. They had seemed perfect together. With everything that was going on, she’d felt she’d found a soulmate, someone who could understand her, who would guide her on her newfound journey.
‘Screw it,’ she said, dropping her book onto the floor and twisting the tap on again with her toes. It was her journey. She would do it on her own. First London, then the world. This newspaper interview was the next step, she could feel it. If that was what it took to get her message to a wider audience, then she would do it.
She heard the door open downstairs and a voice call out.
‘I’ll be down in a second!’ she yelled back. ‘Just in the bath.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Holly’s voice came back up. ‘I’ll dish up.’
Fiona was wrapping a towel around her head as she walked down the stairs.
‘Smells good,’ she called.
‘I got Indian. I hope you don’t mind; I just really fancied a biryani.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
It was as if a lightning bolt had hit her, or a bullet slammed into her chest. She gasped as she set foot in the kitchen.
‘What the hell is this?’ Her stomach plummeted as she stared at the scene.
‘I got a little carried away, didn’t I?’ Holly grimaced. ‘I was just starving, and I didn’t know what you’d fancy.’
Fiona could barely breathe as she stepped towards the table.
‘Why did you do this?’ she whispered. ‘Why?’
She couldn’t even start to count what was lying in front of her. She wanted to, but there was just too much, and her hands and head were shaking too much to focus. A plastic bag for the poppadum, plastic boxes for the curries, rices, samosas and pakoras. Small tubs for the sauces – lots of those – and a large one for the dhal. Two more plastic bags were on the table and one, in which something had leaked, was on the draining board.
She rushed to the table and began grabbing things, forcing lids onto containers, only to spill their contents everywhere.
‘You need to get this out. Get this out of my house, now!’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I said get it out .’
‘Fiona, stop!’
Holly reached for her arm but she flicked her hand away.
‘I don’t understand. You asked me to come over and bring food. I told you I was getting takeaway and you love curry!’
‘Not like this. Why would you do this?’
‘Do what?’
Her heart was pounding. She’d splashed curry on her top, the table, even on the wall, where it would probably leave a stain. She didn’t care though. She just wanted it gone.
‘Fiona, you’re being ridiculous.’
She stopped.
‘Pardon?’ She turned slowly to face her friend.
‘This can’t be about the plastic?’ Holly said. ‘It’s just a few tubs. If it is, then, like I said, you’re being ridiculous.’
A new wave of heat engulfed her.
‘That’s what you think, is it? That’s honestly what you think?’
Holly’s jaw set. ‘I do understand, Fi. You’ve had a traumatic experience. I guess I didn’t realise quite how badly it’s affected you. But you can’t expect everyone around you to suddenly change their whole way of life just because you’ve had some kind of epiphany.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why? Because they’re our lives. You can’t dictate how we live.’
‘But can’t you see how wrong that is? Have you been listening to anything I’ve told you? Didn’t you see what Martha went through?’
‘Of course, I have. That’s why I bought a reusable cup at the coffee shop yesterday. And I said no to a plastic bag in the paper shop.’
‘Wow, one paper cup and one plastic bag. You’re really going to save the fucking planet at this rate.’
Holly stepped back.
‘Why are you doing this? Why are you being such a bitch? I’m sorry this upset you but?—’
‘Oh, so telling you the truth makes me a bitch now, does it? I thought that was your go-to line, that you can’t offend people if you’re telling them the truth, right? That’s all I’m doing.’
‘Is this to do with Rory?’
‘This has nothing to do with him. Or Stephen. Or anyone. This is to do with you. Waltzing through life in your little bubble, not giving a toss about who or what you destroy in the process.’
The colour had drained from Holly’s cheeks.
‘Fiona, you need to stop this now. You need to stop.’
‘And you need to get out,’ she replied. ‘And take all your rubbish with you.’
Several drinks were consumed between Holly leaving and Fiona finally dragging herself to bed. It just didn’t make sense, any of it. How could her friend claim to be supportive and yet behave like that? Was she completely blind to everything going on around her?
She pulled off her shirt and headed to the bathroom. Maybe she had been a bit harsh, but she’d been right. It was people like Holly who were screwing up the planet. People like her thinking they could do just as they liked, without a second thought. They were no better than the John Orbitens of the world. Well, sod the lot of them. Holly would come round, see that Fiona was right. And if she didn’t, well, did Fiona even want someone like that in her life anyway?
When she finally fell asleep, it was fitful. Every hour, she would wake in a hot sweat. Twice, she got up to get a glass of water. Twice, she struggled to fall back asleep.
When she awoke and found that morning had finally arrived, memories of the night before and the row with Holly hit her.
‘Shit,’ she muttered to herself.
That feeling of gloom soon gave way to another, as the image of Rory with his golden-haired beauty crept into her mind. One step forward, two steps back. That was what yesterday had been. Although it had been a big step forward, she reminded herself. For Martha and for herself. The business was safe. People were listening. The rest she would deal with in due course.
Feeling like hell, she pushed herself out of bed, thinking about all the things she had to do. That was, at least, the bonus of no boyfriend, or midlife crisis toy boy: plenty of time. Without the added distraction of Rory, she would be able to focus completely on work. And Holly would come round. She was the one in the wrong, after all.
‘So how did it go?’ Annabel was bouncing on her seat at an impressive pace, even for her. ‘It went well, didn’t it? I wanted to call you last night, but I didn’t know where you’d be?—’
‘You mean the presentation?’
‘Of course I mean the presentation. Did you ace it?’
‘It did go well.’ She smiled a little, finding Annabel’s crazy grinning infectious.
‘Yay!’ Annabel flung her arms into the air. ‘I knew it would. And now what? Eco events, here we come?’
Despite it all, Fiona couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
‘I feel like we should celebrate.’ Annabel had stopped her bouncing to get the sentence out. ‘Get cakes or something. I could go downstairs. Head to the shops. No plastic, obviously.’
The ache in her cheeks was starting to build. This was what saving the planet was meant to be like. This is how she’d expected people to behave. Fun. Happiness. Not like Holly with her dozen single-use tubs in one takeaway.
‘I wouldn’t say no to one of those artisan pastries,’ she said, reaching for her wallet.
‘Don’t be silly. I’ve got these. We’re celebrating. It’s a sign of good times ahead. Things are going to sort themselves out, you’ll see. Sod Dominic. Sod Octavia and those other clients. Sod the lot of them! You’re going to come back bigger and better than before. I can just feel it.’
As Annabel skipped out of the room, Fiona ambled into her office and gazed out of the window.
It was peculiar, she reflected. Things were all up in the air yet, somehow, she felt calm. She’d weathered the worst of it. She’d bounce back. It wasn’t like it was the first time she and Holly had argued. That was the whole point of true friendship, wasn’t it? That you survived things like this. And to hell with men. What was she even thinking about, screwing around while she and Stephen hadn’t even managed a single proper conversation? Maybe counselling would be the way forward.
She was still pondering this when she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs.
‘That was fast, or have they already sold out?’
On receiving no reply, she turned and poked her head round the door.
‘Stephen?’ Fiona said, taken aback. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m wondering.’
If the saying, you’re only as old as the woman you feel , held any truth at all then, judging be the frazzled state of his hair and the bags under his eyes, he must have spent the last year-and-a-half in bed with an octogenarian. His tie was pulled loose around his neck in a manner he would most certainly have judged someone else for during working hours, but it was his eyes that were most alarming. Bloodshot and red and absolutely furious.
‘What the hell have you been playing at?’ he demanded.
‘What are you on about?’
‘What am I on about? Are you serious? Your stunt at the World Wildlife Conference or whatever the hell it was.’
‘You’ve heard about that?’ she replied, a glimmer of pride in her voice.
‘Of course I’ve bloody heard about it. I’ve had John Orbiten on the phone since last night, asking why the hell my wife was trying to sabotage his company!’
‘I wasn’t trying to sabotage anything,’ she sniffed. ‘I was trying to open people’s eyes. Get them to see what they’re doing to the planet.’
‘Since when have you given a shit about that? Oh wait, that’s right, something to do with that stupid whale. That’s what he said.’
She tensed.
‘Stephen. I can see that you’re upset but?—’
‘Upset? He thinks you did it because of me. Some kind of revenge, which I have to say rings true. Why else would you do something like that?’
‘Why else? Did he listen to anything I said? Or is your ego so huge you think that everything revolves around you?’
He ground his teeth.
‘Well, thanks to your little stunt, I had to explain our current situation. He put two and two together and now he’s fired Penny.’
‘Penny?’
‘My secretary.’
‘Oh.’ She struggled to keep a smirk from her face. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll give her a wonderful reference. Goes above and beyond. Very versatile, ambitious . Does that sound about right?’
He glared at her and was about to launch into another tirade when the sound of heels clicking on the stairs announced the arrival of a third party and he closed his mouth again. He couldn’t say what he wanted to her now, she thought, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him ruin Annabel’s day. Not the wonderful mood she was in, after all the worry of possibly losing her job.
‘Look, I’m sorry that things have gone tits up for you but, let’s be honest, he couldn’t have sacked your secretary for screwing you, if you weren’t screwing your secretary. That’s the truth. And everything I said at that conference, every single thing I said, was true too.’
Annabel appeared in the doorway. She blanched. Fiona nodded reassuringly. She was putting a stop to this.
‘You need to go now,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ve got a business to run.’
‘Oh no you don’t. Not any more.’
His voice was a mixture of hiss and whisper, low and resonant, sending a chill down her spine.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, no you don’t. You do not have a business to run.’
‘Pardon?’
He straightened and locked eyes with her. It was impossible to believe that those same eyes had ever looked at her with anything close to love. All she could see now was a dark, malevolent bitterness. More hatred than she’d ever encountered in her life.
‘Why do you think The Truncton Group came back to you? Why do you think any of them did?’
‘You know about that?’ She was starting to feel decidedly uneasy.
‘Everyone thought you were off the rails. The only reason you’ve still got any clients is because I convinced them to stay with you, reminded them of how innovative your ideas had been in the beginning, when they first started with you. I reassured them that you were working on something special, something brilliant?—’
‘I am!’
His eyebrows rose.
‘If you didn’t believe that then why would you say it?’ she demanded, rubbing her temples as she tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. ‘Why would you get them to stay with me?’
‘Why do you think?’
It took her a few moments for it to sink in. When it did, she wanted to retch.
‘You thought it was because of you? You felt responsible? That all of this was because you walked out on me?’
‘Well, it was, wasn’t it?’
She shook her head in disbelief.
‘You arrogant, supercilious son of a bitch. No, it bloody well wasn’t.’ Her laugh was harsh and guttural. ‘Just you wait and see.’
It was Stephen’s turn to look confused.
‘See what?’
‘The press.’ She hissed at him. ‘The press were there yesterday. They heard what I said. They loved it. So did a whole host of other people. I don’t need your misguided nepotism. I’ve got interviews booked and I’ll soon have clients banging on my door.’
‘The press? Seriously?’ He laughed. ‘You think they’ll be your saving grace in all this? You have no idea.’ He laughed again. ‘People like John Orbiten are the press. They own it. Powerful people like him don’t care about you little people, unless you’re lining their pockets for them. You really think the papers are going to print something that jeopardises one of their biggest advertisers? You’re deluded.’
She shook her head. ‘They have to. It’s the truth.’
‘And the British press are well known for telling the truth? If they do interview you, I’d love to read it,’ he mocked. ‘ The woman who turns to saving whales when her husband leaves her. I mean, it’s not exactly broadsheet material, is it? But it sure would do well in one of those trashy, real-life magazines your mum used to read.’
She could feel herself shaking now. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what was going on. It wasn’t just what he was saying; it was the way he was saying it. A month ago, she thought she would spend the rest of her life with this man. She had loved him. Adored him. Now she didn’t even recognise him.
‘What did I do?’ she asked, as a tear trickled down her cheek. ‘You were the one who cheated on me. You broke my heart. What the hell happened for you to become so damn vindictive?’
‘You shouldn’t have made this personal,’ he hissed back at her. ‘You shouldn’t have brought Penny into this.’
‘I didn’t!’
She picked up the nearest thing she could find on Annabel’s desk – a pack of Post-Its – and threw it at him.
‘You conceited, self-centred bastard.’ She picked up the day planner and that went too. Next it was a mug, just missing him, hitting the wall and shattering in a ceramic explosion. ‘How was I supposed to know she’d get the sack? I didn’t even know about her. You were the one screwing around, not me! You!’ She went for another mug.
‘You’ve lost your mind!’ he shouted back, ducking.
‘You self-absorbed twat. You little prick.’
‘You’re crazy. You’re an absolute lunatic.’
‘You think I give a damn now who you screw? You think I was thinking about you, when I was up on that stage?’ She picked up Annabel’s keyboard, only to see sense and lower it again. ‘You know what, though? I’m glad she got fired. Let’s see how well this love of your life works out when you’ve lost all the fun of sneaking around. Why don’t you see how much you enjoy chasing after a twenty-something-year-old then? When she wants to go out clubbing every night and you need to be in bed with your snore strips so your sinuses don’t play up.’
‘You will never stage another event in this city, if I have to see to it myself,’ he snarled, retreating past Annabel and down the stairs.
‘ Screw you! ’ she shouted after him.