Chapter 4 The Lift
The Lift
The lift made a squeak that was most easily heard by bats and dogs and dropped a short way, though it felt like much more. Tam released a similar squeak of distress as her heart made a bid for freedom from her chest.
‘I see you’ve requested a chunk of holiday in June. Going anywhere nice?’ asked Jack from his corner.
‘What?’ Tam couldn’t concentrate on anything but her imminent death. Any moment the lift would plummet downwards at G-force speed, she was sure of it.
‘A request for three weeks’ holiday?’ said Jack, pulling her attention. ‘Long-haul trip, maybe?’
‘I’m getting married,’ said Tam shakily.
If she got out of here alive, of course.
It wasn’t looking good. She could visualise the cables holding them between the floors fraying under the strain.
If they did manage to hang on, there was also the possibility of them cooking in this metal box because it was getting hot in here.
Her suit felt tight. She’d never liked it, but Harris said it was smart and something that ‘befitted her status’.
He’d laughed at her wardrobe when they got together, said he’d need to take her clothes shopping.
She’d thought that was sweet and caring at the time.
But did men really have any concept of how hard it could be to walk in heels?
She really wanted to kick off these shoes but she was frightened she’d never get them back on again if she did.
The lift made another judder and Tam squawked. This really wasn’t fun.
‘Ah, I see. Big wedding? Come on, focus on something else. Tell me about your plans,’ encouraged Jack, and Tam realised he was trying to distract her. He must really think of her as a wet lettuce making more noises than a human beatbox.
‘Erm . . . yes,’ she said, trying to pull herself together, limit the damage. ‘Big.’
‘How big?’
‘Well, we’re having it at St Michael’s Church, if you know it.
It’s about the size of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Lots of guests, don’t know most of them.
Lobster and prawn cocktail starter. I don’t even like lobster, I feel sorry for them.
Beef main, although my mother-in-law pretends she’s French whenever she says it and pronounces it buuurrrfff.
And some sort of Eton mess afterwards and that’s only because it’s got the word “Eton” in it, I’m sure.
I haven’t had much to do with the plans. I’m excluded from them.’
‘Oh?’ replied Jack to that, sounding puzzled. ‘Are you sure it’s your wedding?’
‘My mother and mother-in-law are quite formidable. And seeing as the families insisted on paying for the wedding, they insist on organising everything. I can’t exactly argue with that.
Although I want to, because the bridesmaids are all in snot green because it will complement the oceanic shades that they’re both wearing.
It’s all about coordination, you see. I didn’t pick the bridesmaids.
Well, I did one because she’s my friend, but another is my brother’s girlfriend and she hardly talks and has terrible taste in men, and then there’s K?rèn, my fiancé’s cousin, she spells her name with an umlaut and a grave accent, so I think you can guess the sort of pretension I’m dealing with – and her seven-year-old daughter, who I’ve never yet seen without her finger inserted up her nose . . .’
Tam’s voice tailed off while she took a breath. Panic was giving her diarrhoea of the vocal cords. And like diarrhoea, she couldn’t stop the flow.
‘I wanted pink and yellow, like Battenberg colours, but that wouldn’t have done at all. I thought it would be bright and jolly. I love Battenberg.’
‘So do I,’ said Jack.
‘But no, I have to have “olivine” or oliveeeeeen, which is how the woman who has made the bridesmaid dresses pronounces it. It’s actually not olivine at all, which is a really pretty colour, it’s bleached bile at best, blanched bogey at worst. Awful.’
Harris’s voice sounded in Tam’s head, telling her to shush. He quite often told her off, for her own good, of course, to stop her making a twerp of herself as she was right now.
‘Oh dear,’ said Jack. Even in this dim light, Tam could see Jack was tapping at his mouth as if to scare away his amusement.
‘I have a sister, but she wouldn’t be seen dead as a bridesmaid. If she isn’t the centre of attention, she’s not playing.’
‘Just the one sister?’ asked Jack.
‘And a brother,’ said Tam. ‘She’s a very successful barrister and he’s a very clever eye surgeon. I come from a family of high achievers so I’m the embarrassing failure.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ said Jack, which was rich from someone who was about to give her the boot, Tam thought.
‘I would,’ Tam replied. ‘I’m not ruthless enough to be—’ She bit off the like you.
One had to be formed from iron to be properly successful.
Her sister didn’t pack away her brutal court personality with her powdered wig when her duties were done and her brother, she bet, would be an obnoxious arse to work for, much the same as their father had been.
Most people at that level gloried in their reputations of being hard line and difficult, as if their self-important arrogance made them special.
Someone too lofty to even say thank you to a PA who brought them in a coffee.
Although, she had to admit, Jack Cesaroni had impeccable manners; she’d allow him a brownie point for that.
The bosses who were in situ when she first joined YorkMart were cast from a different foundry, though, being both efficient and approachable.
When they said, ‘My door is always open’, they meant it.
Exceptions to the rule rather than the rule, but she’d always thought that’s the way it should be.
It would have been the way she’d have had things if she was still in charge.
The lift creaked ominously and Tam’s eyes shuttered down in quiet fear.
‘Are you having a honeymoon?’ asked Jack quickly, dragging Tam’s attention back to him and away from impending doom.
‘Not immediately. I’ll be using the time after the wedding to move in with Harris because we can’t find a house we both agree on, so I’ll have to hole up with him.
It’s not ideal, but I wasn’t going to buy somewhere I didn’t like just because I felt under pressure.
I’ve been too busy to pack up my things before now, though I think part of me has been using that as an excuse because his place is awful. There’s no room for me in it—’
Shut up, Tamantha. That inner voice again. She took a breath, steadied.
‘Plus he has some banking exams to study for, so we’ll go later. Maybe Australia. He has family out there.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Jack.
She stopped herself from disagreeing, from saying that she really didn’t want to go there and stay with his relatives, especially because when he had mentioned it at one of the Sunday lunches, Davina had said she might travel out with them.
It wouldn’t be much of a honeymoon with her in tow, taking command as was her forte.
‘And I presume you have the fairy-tale dress?’
Tam swallowed down a bark of laughter. Therein was a tale. Oh the dress. Where to even begin on answering that one.