Date Monday 20 February Time 1.45am #2
‘Why what? How do you get to sound pissed off? I didn’t even know your company did stuff like this! You’re always boring us with talks of ethics.’
‘My company is ethical, Alice,’ said Matthew, his voice clipped. ‘Unlike your boyfriend.’
‘But I thought you did coaching and training? All that psychology stuff?’
‘Yes. We do multiple things.’
I was barely listening because I was trying to remember exactly what I’d said to Matthew.
‘Oh no, and I told you about the taxi expenses loophole.’ I actually felt like crying.
‘Drunk Stephen… I feel like a traitor. You can’t use what I told you to sack my friends!
You can’t!’ I could feel my eyes starting to well, and I was finding it hard to catch my breath.
‘Get a grip, Alice.’ Matthew glanced over at the other customers, some of whom were looking our way.
‘And stop shouting in my restaurant.’ He indicated the door curtly, and I followed him out of one of the arched doorways and along a corridor to the cellars.
‘You’re being entirely unreasonable,’ he said bluntly, as soon as the cellar door had closed behind us.
I rested my back against the cool wall, looking up at the vaulted ceiling and the stacks of wine, and tried to regain a sense of control. But the thought of Drunk Stephen being fired by Matthew, because of me, triggered it off again.
‘How can you live with yourself?’ I said. ‘How can you fire people and ruin lives?’
‘I’m not firing anyone. My company literally protects the rights of innocent people in the corporate world.’
‘Then why is everyone terrified of you? Huh? Guy’s been panicking.’
‘I think you’ll find it’s the company directors and leaders who have an ambivalent relationship with me,’ said Matthew irritably. ‘Not everyone.’
‘Yeah, right. So why would they invite you to be involved in the merger then? I’m not totally na?ve, you know.’
‘Because I’m preferable to multiple employment lawsuits.’
‘I trusted you, Matthew. I thought we were friends. How could you let me babble on about everyone, knowing you’d be deciding their fates?
I even told you about Guy. He’ll kill me.
Oh my god, Matthew.’ I looked at him appalled.
‘Is that why you took me away for the night? Was it part of the process of finding out and digging deep?’
The thought made me feel slightly sick.
Matthew shook his head at me and sighed. ‘Thanks, Alice. Good to know what you think of me, although I suppose you have made it perfectly clear over the years.’
‘You lied to me.’ I poked him in his stupidly unyielding chest.
‘No, Alice, I’ve told you what I do before: you weren’t interested.’
‘I mean you lied about this!’ I shouted. ‘Coming into my place of work.’
‘I didn’t know,’ he said, his voice measured. ‘I thought you were at Bloomsbury, otherwise of course I wouldn’t have discussed your work with you. It was only when I saw your ID card that I realised.’
‘So why didn’t you say something to me when you did know? This is worse than cheating at Scrabble.’
‘I’d only had initial meetings at that point. All confidential. And I don’t cheat at Scrabble. I don’t need to.’
‘So why haven’t you warned me since?’
‘I’d have potentially compromised you,’ he said. ‘It’s better for you that I minimise contact with you until it’s done. You deserve the same protection as the others.’
‘But all that inside information I’ve given you.’ My voice broke slightly.
‘It’s largely irrelevant, Alice,’ he said patronisingly. ‘Most employee information is anonymised; I take all the steps I can to ensure I reach fair and independent conclusions. Anything where there’s a conflict of interest, I’ll recuse myself.’
‘You’re putting my career at risk, for yours.’
‘Oh come on, Alice.’ Matthew was losing patience. ‘The only person putting your “career” at risk is you.’
I could hear the air quotes, condescending prick. ‘How am I putting it at risk?’
‘Having sex with your married boss.’
‘It’s none of your business who I sleep with,’ I reminded him sharply. ‘And for your information, I like him.’
‘Actually, it is my business. And, for your information that kind of exploitative relationship shouldn’t be taking place at Carsons.’
‘So you’re firing me for hooking up with Guy? That’s exploitative!’
‘Again, I’m not firing anyone,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m pointing out the implications of sexual relationships in the workplace.’
‘My relationship is out of work. And it is not exploitative. I’m the one that fancies him.’
‘And if the relationship ends… ?’
I thought about Charlotte, in Glasgow, but I’m not her. ‘It’s hardly ending – we’ve come away for the night together. The only problem I can see is you.’
‘Alice, he’s talking to his wife right now. ’
‘He has to because she’s a nightmare.’
I could see Matthew’s jaw clenching. ‘Fine,’ he snapped.
‘Have it your own way. He’s here because he’s committed to you.
Not because it’s an easy lay, or because he’s using you for your connection to someone who could influence whether he keeps his job.
And definitely not because if it all goes wrong, at your level, you’re straightforward to replace in the workplace. ’
I’ve disliked Matthew Lloyd for a long time, but I don’t think I really, truly hated him until that moment.
I could feel my eyes smarting.
Matthew bit his lip and then exhaled. ‘Alice,’ he said. ‘Don’t get upset. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think you could do so much better.’
Somehow his pity was even worse than his stupid smile; I could feel my fists curling.
‘Don’t think about trying to kick me,’ he warned. ‘You’ll miss and hurt yourself – the walls are stone.’
‘Where do you get off on trying to ruin my life?’
‘I’m trying to help you.’
‘I don’t need your help. And I don’t want it. I know exactly what I’m doing.’
‘Sure,’ said Matthew. ‘I suppose if you lose your job, you can always manifest a new one. Or move back in with your parents. Or just keep on living with Astrid and Aziz and ruining their relationship.’
That did it. I lashed out. I may have never succeeded in kicking him, but I had a good idea of how to wound him. ‘So this is what it’s all about? You’re fucking jealous ?’
‘Jealous?’ Matthew stalled.
‘I’ve got the family you want. And even if they bitch about me, I don’t have to prove myself. If I fall, they’ll catch me. Whereas you? Well, you may have the hotel and the company, but you’ll spend the rest of your life continuing to try and prove yourself. And if you fall, well… ’
There was a silence. Matthew’s face was motionless. He didn’t speak.
I had that unpleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach that I may have gone too far, like when I told Mum she was a terrible mother and that the only reason we all stuck around was because Dad overcompensated for her unkindness and maybe she should stop being such a bitch to him.
It’s the only time Dad has ever shouted at me.
Then Matthew took a step towards me, his face hard.
If anything he was even more offensively attractive when he lost his characteristic insouciance – he looked older and tougher, slightly menacing, like he’d lived a life, and like you wouldn’t want to piss him off.
And right now, I was extremely aware that I had, indeed, pissed him off.
I took a step backwards, and met with the wall.
There was nowhere to go. He took another step closer, so we were inches apart and then he leant down to me.
I involuntarily swallowed. His physical nearness was intoxicating and unfair: I could feel my muscles weakening in response.
‘For a second, Alice,’ he said, his voice dangerously quiet, ‘I thought you might be on to something, when you called me jealous. But I should have known that someone as inherently selfish as you only sees half the world.’
But then there was a sudden change in temperature as the cellar door opened.
‘Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting,’ began the waitress.
‘You’re not interrupting anything.’ Matthew’s voice was cold as he smoothly stepped away from me. ‘I’m done here.’
And then he turned and left, without a backwards glance.