TALIA
The tears she’d stifled in Rory’s company earlier returned now, a storm of sobs that wracked her body. Lying on her side on the bed, she clenched a hand into a fist and stuffed it in her mouth to dull the sound. What have I done? It’s unforgivable. I’m unforgivable.
Michaela’s words played on repeat inside her skull: You need to be more careful. The stewardess was clearly trying to warn her, but why? About who? And after that anonymous note …
But even now, full of guilt and terror and regret, the memory of the first time she’d met him made her body tingle.
But then her husband had joined them, and they’d all started talking about the venue and the naff entertainment and the fact that they’d been robbed, absolutely robbed not winning the award – and the spell was broken.
She remembered, rightly, who she was: a fifty-five-year-old married woman.
She’d never be desired by someone like him – and even if she were, she couldn’t possibly do anything about it, could she?
Only, at the end of the night as she’d collected her coat from the cloakroom, he’d asked for her number. And she’d been so giddy and captivated, she couldn’t turn him down.
By the time Talia stopped crying, she was exhausted, her nervous system drained of energy.
But the release had helped; she felt a little better for it.
She was clearer, too: this has to stop. When she got home, she’d block him on every channel.
She’d never speak to him again; she’d never risk bumping into him.
She’d put all this behind her. It was a mistake – a horrible, stupid, selfish mistake – but that was all.
It didn’t have to ruin her life, or anyone else’s. She’d forget it happened and move on.
Talia stretched a hand out to the master light switch.
The room had darkened, and she could hear doors opening and closing with a soft click as the other guests got ready for this evening’s party.
She needed to tidy herself up, change into the black silk evening dress she’d brought for tonight, put on her bravest smile, then head above deck.
Tap tap tap. She stopped on the way to the bathroom at a soft knock at the door.
Did Rory forget his key card? He must be coming down to change for dinner.
She walked quickly to the sink, splashed water on her face and rubbed at her mascara-stained cheeks with a cotton pad, then paced to the cabin door and flung it open.
‘You haven’t lost your key—’ She’d started speaking before the door had fully opened, and when she saw who was standing there, her words tailed off. It wasn’t Rory, after all.
‘Eleni,’ said Talia curtly. What does she want?
Eleni was radiant in a midnight-blue, floor-length satin gown with matching long gloves.
Her hair was swept in a glamorous up-do, and sparkling silver drops hung from her ears; her skin was dewy and glowing – just like Talia’s had been in her thirties.
A rush of envy flooded Talia’s body, so strong that she almost gasped.
‘I’m sorry, I thought it was that husband of mine.’ She attempted a laugh; it emerged hollow.
‘No worries! So sorry to bother you in the middle of your preparations. I was just checking you were all right?’
Talia flinched; she wondered how obvious it was that she’d just been crying. ‘And why wouldn’t I be?’
A flash of hurt marred Eleni’s warm brown eyes. ‘I … well, it’s just that you’ve been in your cabin for a while, and you seemed a bit upset after what Rory said to you earlier, on deck …’ She tailed off.
‘I appreciate your concern, Eleni, but really, I’m—’
‘Actually, can I come in for a sec?’
Oh for goodness’ sake. Talia was still in her day dress, her hair wasn’t done, nor her make-up. The bed wasn’t made after her crying session, and damp, scrunched-up tissues lay next to her pillow. ‘I was in the middle of getting ready—’
Thankfully, she was rescued that very moment by her husband, stomping down the staircase and along the passageway.
‘Ah – not ready yet, Mrs Ashworth? Hurry up, we’re about to get started.
Finally managed to get a bloody signal up there.
’ He turned to Eleni and made a soft whistle. ‘And don’t you look the business?’
Eleni laughed and gave Rory an extravagant twirl; Talia stifled an eye-roll.
‘I’d better get dressed, then,’ she muttered. She backed into the cabin, then to the bathroom to shower and dress and put on make-up that, no matter how long and hard she tried, would never make her look as effortlessly beautiful as Rory’s young, fresh-faced colleagues.
The atmosphere was strained as Talia took her place for dinner under the awning, despite the elegant black-and-white decorations and blaring Bond theme tunes.
Rory – at the head of the table, dapper now in his tuxedo and bow tie – was clearly on edge, checking his phone and muttering frustrated profanities about data usage limits amid the ongoing lack of on-board Wi-Fi.
Opposite Talia, Lucy and Mark had shifted their chairs slightly apart; they wouldn’t even meet each other’s eyes.
‘Wow,’ said Eleni, smiling as Talia sat down across from her, in between Sam and Rory, accepting a cocktail from Johanna once she was settled. ‘You look stunning.’
‘You all do,’ said Sam. ‘And us gents have scrubbed up pretty well too.’
He was right – all four men looked astonishingly handsome. Sam’s beard was neatly trimmed, Nick’s muscular frame filled his fitted shirt almost to bursting; Mark had slicked his hair back with gel and left the top button on his collar undone. They were all – as Chloe would say – hot as hell.
‘Hear, hear,’ said Rory. ‘Look at the lot of us – you’ve all made a real effort. Cheers to that!’
He raised his glass and the group clinked their martinis together. Talia took a long sip. It was strong; the gin and vermouth burned pleasantly down her throat as she swallowed.
Johanna reappeared with their starters – grilled shrimp with honeydew gazpacho – just as Sam asked Rory: ‘Did you manage to get onto your emails in the end, then?’
‘Yes, just about – managed to get on using 4G.’ Rory paused, spoon already halfway to his mouth. ‘And I’m glad I did. Someone thinks we might have a way to get back in with Rosenberg, but for the Southall site. It would be quite the boon, to get them locked in – potential for a lot of new sales.’
Eleni’s cutlery clattered onto her side plate. ‘Rosenberg?’ She looked at Sam. ‘Hang on a second. I thought we were already in with them. Didn’t you—’
‘No,’ Sam said, with a shrug. ‘It fell through.’
‘Oh – I didn’t realize. Not sure how I missed that. So then, how come you—?’ Eleni stopped talking abruptly, and covered her mouth with her hand. Nick glanced at her sharply.
Sam’s shoulders hunched almost to his ears. He put his spoon down too, took a sip of his drink. ‘How come I what?’
Eleni shook her head. ‘Sorry – I didn’t mean … it’s nothing.’
Sam dropped his shoulders back down. ‘I can take a good guess at what you were about to say. How did I win the bonus trip if Rosenberg fell through – right?’
Eleni shrugged and said nothing; Sam turned to Rory. ‘Would you like to explain to our colleagues why I still got a place here? You’ll do a better job than me, I’m sure.’ Sam stared at Rory, a challenge in his expression. Talia squirmed; Sam’s daring tone was making her uncomfortable.
Rory swallowed his mouthful of gazpacho then began nodding emphatically.
‘Well, as you’ll all know, Sam is quite the standout employee – he’s been working at Ashworth for more than ten years, and that sort of loyalty merits reward.
’ He was rambling; talking much too fast. What’s got him so rattled?
‘Besides, it’s not always about bringing in the big accounts!
I wanted to do something different this year – as we can see with my choice of winners.
’ Rory gestured towards Lucy as he spoke.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Mark interrupted. ‘Was Lucy something different, then? A special case?’
Rory and Mark glared at each other for a moment, flashes of last night’s tension still alive between them.
This is going to get out of hand. ‘Yes, I suppose she was,’ said Rory.
‘But only in the sense that I’ve never brought along a colleague from finance before – however, Lucy’s work is so impressive, it wasn’t a hard decision. ’
A muscle twitched in Mark’s jaw, but he stayed quiet.
‘And I’m very glad I did,’ Rory bumbled on, as Johanna cleared away their starters. ‘Because look at you – the journalist and the data analyst, both keen-eyed and ambitious! Just the kind of people I like around me. A real power couple.’
Mark snorted. ‘Hardly.’ He lifted his martini glass to his mouth.
Lucy leaned closer to him. ‘Please be quiet,’ she hissed.
‘What? I’m just pointing out, we’re not exactly changing the world together, are we?’ Mark glared at Rory again. ‘How could we, when you spend more time with your boss than you do with me?’
Talia gasped; across the table, Eleni’s martini glass wobbled in her hand and nearly spilled. Rory looked at Talia in panic; she reached a hand out to soothe him. He sighed. ‘Ah, now, come on, Mark – let’s save the lovers’ tiff for the privacy of our own cabins, shall we?’
From the other side of Talia, Sam grunted his displeasure. ‘What, like you did this afternoon?’ he said. ‘When you spoke to Talia like that, in front of everyone?’
Please don’t bring me into this. ‘Sam, really,’ Talia interjected. ‘That’s quite enough.’
‘No,’ Sam said, ‘I don’t think it is.’ Then more quietly, so only Talia could hear: ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with it.’
Across the table, Eleni started to cough violently. Talia glanced over; she’d gone bright red and was waving her hands in front of her face.
‘Sorry,’ she choked out. ‘Drink went down the wrong hole.’
‘Are you all right?’ Nick turned to his wife and started patting her on the back. ‘Take a deep breath, you’re making it worse by trying to talk.’
Slowly Eleni began to breathe normally again, her cheeks returning to their usual colour. Behind Talia, Johanna wandered between them awkwardly, placing their main courses on the table.
‘Christ, this has all turned a bit depressing,’ said Rory, sawing vigorously at his steak. ‘Let’s lighten up, shall we? Johanna – let’s open the red, please. Come on, folks, let’s enjoy ourselves – remember why we’re all here …’
‘Oh, I remember,’ murmured Lucy, half to herself. Talia shook her head. What on earth is the matter with everyone?
‘Well, I think the honesty is great, actually,’ said Sam. ‘It’s healthy. Everyone getting things out in the open. So – anyone else? Anything you’d like to share, while we’re getting things off our chest? Lucy – Eleni?’ He glanced around the table, then to his boss at its head. ‘Rory?’
‘That’s quite enough, Sam,’ said Rory, leaning back in his chair. The colour had drained from his face; his hands were shaking.
‘Rory’s right,’ piped up Eleni. ‘That’s enough.
There’s no need for all the hostility. Look where we are – on the trip of a lifetime.
We’re all so lucky to be here.’ Her voice sounded cheerful, and she took an enthusiastic bite of her steak once she’d finished speaking, but there was an unmistakeable note of fear in her eyes.
‘Well,’ said Nick, his eyes narrowing a touch. ‘I’m lucky to be alive at all after Rory’s stunt on the jet ski this morning.’
Rory’s fork clattered onto his plate; his jaw dropped; his mouth opened and closed like a ventriloquist’s doll. ‘I … I told you, Nick. It was an accident. I thought you were holding on tightly—’
‘Yeah, of course – an accident,’ Nick said, waving a hand. ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it, I suppose?’
Eleni’s eyes widened. ‘Nick, please …’
But the quiet tension Rory had been keeping under wraps exploded then into quick, urgent rage.
‘For God’s sake, all of you!’ he snarled.
‘Of course it wasn’t anyone’s fault – it was just one of those things.
And I’d appreciate less of these ridiculous accusations when I’ve brought you all on the trip of a bloody lifetime! ’
Talia stood up, mute with shock, watching as Rory turned and stormed across the deck and inside the salon, main course half-eaten, swearing loudly. She too was flooded with rage.
The audacity of Rory’s co-workers – these …
these children, who stared at spreadsheets and went on jollies visiting old buildings and patches of land; who had no idea what it meant to build a business up from its roots; who couldn’t possibly imagine what it had taken out of Rory – out of their entire family – to build the company and the life that he had; to have done well enough that he could reward his colleagues every year with something as spectacular as this.
‘You’ve all crossed the line,’ Talia seethed. ‘And I won’t watch you three’ – she gestured to Rory’s colleagues – ‘sit in silence while people accuse my husband – the man who’s brought you here on a very expensive holiday, for God’s sake – of … of … I don’t even know what!’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m sure no one meant to upset you, or make you cross. I’m very grateful to Rory for giving me a spot here.’
‘Me too,’ said Eleni. ‘Truly, I’m so sorry. We all are.’
The heat of Talia’s anger cooled; the women looked genuinely shame-faced. But the same couldn’t be said for the men around the table.
‘I don’t need you apologizing on my behalf,’ Nick told Eleni. ‘I’m done here.’ He stood abruptly, knocking the edge of the table.
Talia’s newly filled glass of red wine wobbled and, before she could catch it, toppled over, spreading crimson liquid across the tablecloth, dripping over the edge and onto the floor.
She watched in horror as the white fabric turned blood-red, dread forming in the pit of her stomach. Staring at it, she had the unshakable feeling that a door leading somewhere awful had just opened tonight.
And that perhaps it was already too late to close it.