Chapter 30
Idumped my briefcase on my desk in fury. She really was an obnoxious little witch. I knew I shouldn’t let her annoy me; after all, that was just playing right into her hands, and my hands desperately wanted to be wrapped around her scrawny little neck.
I knew I should keep my distance, get on with my work since there was enough of it to keep me drowning in paperwork for the foreseeable. But before I could stop myself, I was marching back down the corridor towards her desk.
She was sitting behind it, thumbing through a large stack of papers and noisily sucking on a mint. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to get a certain nasty taste out of her mouth.
Standing in front of her desk, I suddenly felt unsure of myself. I really didn’t want to let her know I was aware of what she had been up to. I didn’t wish to show my hand too soon. I had aces to play, after all. But the truth was that I had always been a lousy poker player. Much too emotional.
Her head snapped up suddenly, aware of my presence. Maybe the atmosphere had altered slightly, my outraged aura crackling like static electricity. Inside I was a thunderstorm brewing, but outwardly I was calm personified. I smiled sweetly at her, a monumental effort on my part.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask how your weekend was, Jocasta?”
She looked at me suspiciously, clearly thinking she could just hurl her barely concealed insult at me like a missile and then trot away on her ridiculous heels as if no harm had been done. She’d never expect the explosion brewing on the horizon.
“Er…it was OK.”
She put down the pile of papers she was holding and looked directly at me. Her green eyes were captivating yet somewhat cold, like a reptile.
“Actually, it was amazing. Seb had this sci-fi thingy to go to, so I didn’t see him. But I went bowling with some friends Saturday afternoon, and then nightclubbing until the early hours.”
Well, if that were true, she definitely hadn’t been with Fluck. Nightclubbing really didn’t sound like his cup of tea. I would bet the last time he had strutted his stuff in a discotheque, John Travolta would have been shoehorned into his white suit and gyrating to the warbling of the Bee Gees. And as for bowling, unless it was Crown Green, I doubted very much whether that was his thing either.
I smiled at her pleasantly, like a cat cruelly toying with a baby mouse.
“That sounds nice.”
I could see from her face she was confused as to why I was being so convivial towards her. After all, she had been a massive cow to me so she expected me to be a mardy arse in return. She couldn’t work out what I was up to, and that wasn’t sitting well with her.
She let out a little awkward laugh. It sounded more like a petulant squawk in my opinion.
“I suppose you think bowling and clubbing is a little childish, not something you would do.”
I shook my head emphatically.
“No, not at all. I like to go clubbing myself every now and again, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself and letting off some steam. It doesn’t make you childish in the slightest.”
A slyness settled over her features.
“Yeah, but I guess when one gets to your age, you’ve not been considered childish for over forty years. You wouldn’t know half of the music playing in the clubs these days anyway, Madonna would be much more your style or Grandma-donna I should say.”
She laughed at her joke, as if she was the world’s best comedian; not realising that the joke was actually on her.
My hand flew to my mouth in ill-feigned shock, as if I was mortally wounded by her words.
“Ouch, that’s a bit mean, Jocasta. You’re not that young yourself and hardly Like a Virgin, or had you forgotten you were no longer in your twenties and not a million miles away from the big 40.”
Her expression darkened, as if someone had turned down the lights. Oh, how I would love to turn her lights off permanently.
I smiled pleasantly at her, my expression suggesting I had just necked a sedative and a large Sauvignon Blanc. Looking for the whole world as if I were so chilled out and relaxed, I wouldn’t notice if my arse was on fire.
“I know you think your little jokes at my expense are funny, but they’re not. In fact, it’s all rather tedious. I get it you don’t like me, but there’s no need for you to be such a complete fucking bitch, is there?”
To elucidate my point, I let out an exaggerated yawn, as if it was all beneath me and not worthy of my time or effort.
Her eyebrows shot up, well, as much as her Botox would allow. They now resembled two startled slugs against their fake-tanned backdrop.
“Well, I was only having a little joke. You don’t need to resort to language like that.”
“Oh, pardon me, I do apologise for the coarseness of my words. I should have realised that nothing so uncouth would ever come out of your mouth.”
I smiled pleasantly at her and lowered my voice a little.
“Or go into it for that matter.”
She stared at me blankly, not having a clue what I was getting at.
I waited patiently for the penny to drop. It didn’t take long, and when it did, like those old coin fall machines in a seaside arcade, it brought them all tumbling down. Jackpot!
Her face still bore a look of confusion, but the arrogance she had previously conveyed had slipped away. As quickly no doubt as Fluck had slipped away on Friday night after she had completed her “overtime”: back to his wife for a home-cooked meal and a cosy night in front of the telly.
She studied my face carefully, confused but cautious, not quite sure what I was getting at, but worried all the same. After all, how could I know? They had been all alone in his office on Friday, hadn’t they? Or so she believed.
She laughed nervously.
“Well yes, I try not to swear too much. I just find it rather crass. And as for my mouth, I do eat healthily wherever possible.”
She gestured to the half-opened packet of mints spilling out over her desk.
“I really don’t eat these all the time, just as a one-off. And I do tend to crave sugary things when I’m stressed.”
I nodded at her as if impressed by the wiseness of her words. I was really getting into my stride now and beginning to enjoy myself immensely.
“Oh, I agree, it’s all about balance when it comes to diet: not too many sweets, a good amount of protein, and you can’t beat a nice big portion of meat and two veg when you get the chance.”
I think she might have actually stopped breathing for a second or two in shock. When she did eventually take in a deep breath of air, she choked on her mint.
I was only too happy to dash around to provide my Florence Nightingale support, giving her back a jolly good whack to try and dislodge it.
She grabbed desperately for the bottle of mineral water on her desk and commenced gulping it down, red-faced and with her eyes bulging. She was no doubt worried I might try and administer the Heimlich manoeuvre on her next and crack a couple of ribs.
When she had recovered from her coughing fit, she addressed me with wary, watery eyes. Her voice still raspy.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Lila?”
I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.
“About what? And your voice sounds terrible, by the way. You might need some deep throat spray, if that’s what you’re accustomed to.”
She started coughing again, tears running down her face and mixing with her make-up. She was beginning to resemble a circus clown, literally and figuratively. The patchy mess that was now her face looked for all the world like a primary school watercolour class. Less Warhol and more asshole.
“Oh, I don’t know Lila, it’s just you’re acting a little odd and I wondered if you’d heard something…I don’t know…some silly gossip or…or something.”
I had to lean right in to make out what she was saying, as she had lowered her voice so much.
I suddenly realised, as she had, that Alice had been watching our exchange with mounting interest. She would have witnessed Jocasta’s choking fit and wondered what was going on, even though Alice’s desk was situated far enough away from hers that she wouldn’t have been able to make out our every word. But it was clear from the expression on the older woman’s face that her interest was piqued. She was now regarding the pair of us with an expression of curiosity on her weathered face.
“No, I’ve heard no gossip.”
I had dropped my voice now so that it was as low as Jocasta’s.
“I think you’ll find this is a professional place and everyone has better things to do than gossip. It’s not the epicentre of rumours and lies that you may think, just a well-regarded law firm with decent people working for it.”
She scowled at me and reached over to grab a handful of mints, not bothering to offer me one before shovelling them into her gob. Clearly something was stressing her out.
I continued speaking over the loud crunching sound coming from her direction.
“Or at least it was respectable. Now there’s more drama going on here than an episode of The Real Housewives of Yorkshire.”
Alice was out of her seat now, packet of cigarettes clenched tightly in her hand and making her way to the front door. Obviously, curiosity over our conversation was not a strong enough pull against the lure of Madame Nicotine.
When she was safely out of the building and the heavy wooden door had closed behind her, Jocasta was out of her seat and marching around, her fists clenched.
“Stop playing with me, Lila. If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”
Now I was going to give it to her both barrels, and I was going to enjoy every second.
“Is that what you did? Spit it out all over his golfing shoes? Noshing off the boss when you thought everyone had left for the day?”
I paused for a moment to appreciate the look of utter shock on her face. She was stunned, like she had been slapped resoundingly around the face. It was a satisfying sight indeed. I remember reading once that it took forty-two muscles to frown, but only four to reach out and slap someone. Well, I wasn’t the one frowning now, and I hadn’t even had to move a single muscle.
“You’re such a cliché, Jocasta. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. Blowing old man Fluck, that’s hands down the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve cleaned a teenage boy’s bedroom.”
Jocasta’s lips were moving but she was unable to find a word in her defence she just kept staring at me as if she was face to face with her worst nightmare. Well good, because I sure as hell had been faced with mine when I had seen her and Fluck together in flagrante.
“If I could give you a little advice Jocasta it would be to go and see your doctor, clearly you need a checkup from the neck up if you consider Mr Fluck a suitable lover.”
I gave an exaggerated shudder that quickly turned into laughter.
And boy did I laugh. All those jibes she had made at me. The video she had uploaded to social media, and more importantly what she had done to Seb. She finally had her come-uppance, and it hadn’t come a moment too soon. But I still had one parting shot.
“It’s all just so horrible, seedy and pathetic, and if I can be brutally honest almost as ghastly as those hideous shoes you’re wearing.”