Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
B ack in my suite, without the distraction of Cameron and the hair salon, memories of Dave’s heartless disclosure the previous evening return to haunt me. The hurt and humiliation slices through me like razors – to the point that I consider calling Cat or Lottie for some much-needed comforting, but I just can’t face having to say the words out loud. The anxiety that I had brought under control in recent days is also rearing its head again, making me twitchy and insecure.
I decide that there’s only one thing for it: I need to head straight back out again, before I sink back to the depths of the period following D-day. If I don’t, I’ll have let Dave win.
Grabbing my handbag, I’m on my way down in the lift when my phone buzzes with a notification, which turns out to be an email from James about our freebies .
Hello Emma,
I hope the preparations for your upcoming trip are going well.
Just a quick note to say that your travel kits have arrived. I can put them in the post for you and they should arrive in time for your departure, but obviously I can’t guarantee this. I wanted to offer you the option of coming by to collect them in case you happen to be passing. Please let me know what is most convenient for you.
Best regards,
James
Rather than creating the positive reaction it probably should (I mean, who doesn’t like a free gift?), this intrusion by James irritates me.
‘Oh, who cares about the damn travel kits?’ I mutter, stepping out of the lift. But I soon realise that, as much as I’m not a fan of the guy, James is only doing his job.
I’m about to reply and politely ask him to post them to Cat’s address, when something dawns on me. If they don’t arrive before we leave for our holiday, and Amber finds out that I had the option to collect them and didn’t (which she will), I’ll get it in the neck. I may not care about our freebies – thanks to my current status of being able to buy pretty much whatever I want – but she and Cat are not in the same fortuitous position. Amber was also quite proud of her success in securing this extra perk.
As I’ll be going in that direction (more or less) on my way to my shopping spree, it does makes sense for me to make a pit stop at the travel agency – I’m assuming the items won’t be big and bulky if they’re for travel – but the problem is… I re ally don’t want to. The last thing I need right now, when I’m bogged down and feeling like crap, is to be one-upped by smart arse James – yet again. And let’s face it, that seems to be the only type of interaction I have with the guy.
Or… maybe I could ask Amber or Cat to pop by for them?
Nope, that won’t work either. There’s no way Amber will let me off the hook about this, and she’ll see through any excuse about not being able to do it myself. Plus, she and Cat have been working all week. It would be pretty selfish of me to try to palm this task off on them.
‘ Fine , you win again, James.’ I give a heavy sigh and ping back a response to say I’ll be passing in about fifteen minutes.
Rather than battling my way through the crowds on Princes Street, I walk along Rose Street, where I pass a welcoming looking café with cakes in the window. Deciding that a pick-me-up is what I need to get through the day, I drop in to buy a takeaway coffee, and after only a few sips, I can already feel the benefit of the caffeine and the sugar.
By the time I reach Archer & Crombie, I’m thankfully feeling slightly sharper and more able to deal with whatever comes my way with this encounter. Pushing open the door, I can see James and one of his colleagues, who’s talking into a headset, sitting at the desks at the back of the shop.
‘Emma, hi. It’s good to see you.’ He gets up and approaches me with his usual sparkling-slash-smarmy grin. ‘That was handy that you were passing.’
Was that a hint of sarcasm in his voice? As if I shot along here the minute I got his email, just so I could see him again? The presumptuous sod.
‘A lucky coincidence.’ I give him a thin-lipped smile while doing my best to avoid direct eye contact .
Unfortunately, while I’ve been mentally dressing him down (not to be mistaken for mentally undressing him), my senses have tuned into James’s citrusy aftershave, which unfortunately happens to be so god damn sexy. This break from the ranks is not just unwelcome, it creates havoc in my brain. Come on, Emma, don’t fall for that . Anyone can smell good – it doesn’t make them a decent person.
‘Take a seat and I’ll grab the kits,’ James pats the top of the sofa. ‘I would have offered you a drink, but I see you already have a coffee.’
‘Yup, I’m on the go.’
I reluctantly park myself as invited, while he heads to the back of the shop and through a door.
He reappears about thirty seconds later with the travel kits, which I’m pleased to note seem high quality and filled with scrumptious designer goodies.
‘Will you manage OK without a bag to put them in?’ he asks, after handing them to me.
This again . Why does he have to check on me all the time, as if I’m incapable of looking after myself?
‘I’ll manage just fine, thanks.’
‘Are you sure? They’re light enough, but carrying three of them plus a drink might be a bit much. You’re welcome to finish your coffee here if you like?’
‘Er… no, thanks,’ I say a bit too quickly. ‘Got a lot on today, so best I keep moving.’
‘Sure, no probs.’ He seems mildly disappointed that I’m leaving so soon, but it’s not like we can have our ‘forced’ date right here in the shop. That bloody date that I don’t even want to go on.
Slinging my handbag back over my shoulder, I get to my feet, clutching my coffee while cradling the travel kits with my other arm. I’m already wishing I did have a bag to carry them in. I can’t go shopping like this, but there’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing that.
‘Thanks very much for these, James. I’m sure the girls will enjoy them.’
‘But you won’t?’ He cocks his head, appearing to cringe as he eyes my precarious load.
‘No, erm… I’m sure I will too.’
‘Let me at least get the door for you,’ he says, and I’m about to object, when I realise that I have no free hands to open it with.
‘Uh… OK, thanks.’
I carefully manoeuvre round the coffee table, and as I do, one of the travel kits slips. In my attempt to avoid dropping it, I inadvertently squeeze my coffee cup and the lid pops off, propelling the contents down the front of my white top.
My face blazes with mortification while I survey the huge soggy brown stain in despair. James’s hand goes to his mouth, and I swear the bastard is stifling the urge to laugh.
‘Are you all right?’ His expression quickly morphs into one of concern. ‘You’ve not scalded yourself, have you?’ He picks up the lid and places it back on my cup.
‘I… I’m…’ I do a quick self-check, because being physically injured was not my first concern. ‘No, it wasn’t that hot anymore. But I’ll need to go back and change.’ I feel close to tears as I try to gather myself together, still struggling with how to carry everything.
‘Want me to get rid of that for you?’ He nods towards my cup and I allow him to take it from me. ‘Emma… please don’t be—’
‘Look, I need to go. Sorry if I got any on the carpet.’ I give him a fleeting apologetic look, unbearably making eye contact for a split second, then use my now free hand to haul open the door and bolt from the shop as fast as I can .
While hurrying along Rose Street back in the direction of the hotel, my eyes overflow with humiliated tears, soon accompanied by a runny nose I can’t blow because I don’t have any tissues.
Why did that have to happen? Why could I not have made it through one encounter with the guy without having my dignity stripped away? And why do I end up feeling so inferior around men like that? My tortured mind floats back to last night and my horrible encounter with Dave – adding to my pain. How I let myself get sucked in like that when he had zero regrets about ending things is almost too much to bear. That was the one thing I had to hold onto. The misguided belief that he has somehow lost out. But he hasn’t, because he’s been with someone else the whole time.
I’m still crying, agonising at new depths, when I walk straight into someone.
‘ What the…? Hey, watch where you’re going.’
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, head down, any instinct to stand up for myself overridden by my misery. But, at the same time, something nags at me. That voice. It has sent a familiar shock wave through me, an unpleasant feeling I’ve felt once too often. Slowly, I look up.
‘So, you damn well… oh. It’s you. ’
For the second time in as many days, I find myself in an unexpected and wholly unwelcome interaction with Karla. She looks positively gleeful at the sight of my tearful, no doubt mascara-streaked face and the super-sized coffee stain down my front.
‘So, this is the great change you were talking about, is it, Emma? Wandering round the city in a right state. You look like you’ve been begging on the street.’ She smirks, looking me up and down in disgust.
Unfortunately, putting her in her place at the restaurant doesn’t seem to have had the desired effect of scarring her for life.
I stand frozen to the spot, just as I did when I met her in the restaurant toilets last week, all sense of power and self-confidence having deserted me. And this time there’s no Champagne or adrenaline rush to give me a boost. I’m lost in a torrent of anxiety and insecurity, which feels so unjust. I was ahead. I’d taken her on. Have I not suffered enough at the hands of this woman?
The silence is unbearable. She stands there, blocking my path, revelling in my discomfort – and I’m letting her do it. I proved nothing before. I’m still weak and she knows it.
Then something stirs within me. I may look and feel like shit, but I’m not the one in the wrong here. Am I really going to let her bully me and negate everything I achieved?
No.
There’s no way I’m letting her pull the same nonsense Dave did last night and leave me feeling even worse than I already do. I’m absolutely sick of people thinking they can trample all over me.
Taking a deep shaky breath, I pull myself up to my full height and look her straight in the eye. ‘No, Karla, I haven’t been begging on the street. And I don’t think homelessness is something to joke about.’
‘Oops, my mistake. It seems you’ve joined a convent… Saint Emma .’ She laughs, enjoying her own joke.
‘Ha ha, that might actually be funny if it made sense.’
She ignores this and continues to berate me. ‘I always knew you were the type to go nowhere. I mean, look at you. You’re like something the cat dragged in.’
That’s it, I can’t take any more. The only thing she’s going to respond to is being shown up – or rather, shut up. I’d never dream of doing what I’m about to do anyone else, but for the nasty cow that is Karla, I’ll make an exception.
‘You know what’s funny? That you have no idea how wrong you are.’ I attempt to stare her out while fighting the urge to break the excruciating eye contact.
She snorts, obviously thinking I’ve lost it, but she says nothing.
‘It’s true. And it’s also true that looks can be deceiving. Sure, I’m having a bad day.’ I shrug. ‘So what? Bigger picture… Karma came through for me. For having to endure everything you threw at me, I got my reward. One lottery ticket was all it took and now I’m over three quarters of a million pounds richer. In fact, I’m enjoying a bit of a shopping spree this week. Already bought myself a nice new car.’
From the expression on her face, you would think I’d told her I’m immortal. ‘How sad are you that you have to make up a fairy story to stop you looking like a loser?’
She doesn’t believe me, and as much as I dislike her, I’m not surprised.
‘That’s fine, Karla. I expected this reaction. But it’s true.’
‘So, prove it.’ She crosses her arms, surveying me woefully.
I waver. Shit . It was a valiant attempt at rescuing my pride, but I can’t give her the evidence she’s demanding. I’m not letting her near my banking app like I did with my parents, which means I’ve lost this one. Unless… I suddenly remember about the telephone banking account the bank set up for me after my visit to the financial adviser last week. I hadn’t been bothered about it because I do everything online, but they suggested I have the number stored on my phone in case of any issues with significant purchases going through .
‘Excuse me a moment.’ I pull out my phone, connect to my bank and punch in my security details. When prompted, I then switch to speaker phone, select the option to hear my savings account balance and the automated voice comes through loud and clear.
‘The balance of your instant savings account is seven-hundred and twenty thousand pounds. Would you like to hear your balance again?’
‘Would you, Karla?’ I ask. ‘Or is once enough?’
My ex-boss looks like she’s been punched in the face.
Ending the call, I know I could leave it there, but I’m still fizzing from the way she’s treated me. I had her down as a nasty boss, but I never realised she was just plain spiteful. I decide to make for the home run.
‘I wish I could say it’s been lovely to see you, Karla. But it hasn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading back to my hotel suite to change, and then I’m going to hit the shops.’
And with that, I walk off, leaving my ex-boss speechless for the second Thursday in a row.