Chapter 14 #2
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so confused in my life.
Okay, so it could be because of the lack of sleep, but somehow, I don’t think so.
This woman is turning my head upside down.
I need to talk to her. I have a quick shower, dress, and then grab a taxi into work.
Luckily, no one’s around. Natalie’s our HR person, but I have the key to her office and can bypass her login code with my own.
I grab myself a coffee from the kitchen, then head straight for Natalie’s office.
It’s locked, but again, my fob gets me in.
I sit in front of her screen and fire it up.
My life at the moment seems like a total mess.
I meet a woman I actually like, then blow it all by moving too fast. It’s eight in the morning.
She’ll be at her desk by nine, but I’m desperate to get word to her.
The way last night ended was all wrong. I take a long, hard slug of the hot coffee.
It seeps through my body, shaking my brain cells into action.
I can do this. I can pull this around. Personal files fill the screen.
Shit. I hadn’t realised so many people worked here.
There must be over two hundred. Suddenly, I’m feeling even more on the back foot.
If I can’t pull this around, find our missing songbird, keep the broadcasters and the press happy, it’s not just Delagado Sounds that will go tits up.
The other businesses in the Tower might not be directly related, but there’s a crossover with a lot of them.
In addition, we’re sharing the same space, feeding off the same infrastructure.
All these files contain details of lives that will be devastated if the company goes bankrupt and we have to close the doors.
I push back in my chair. This is too much pressure.
How had I not realised that so many people were dependent on me?
The feeling of responsibility is utterly overwhelming, and a wave of guilt washes over me.
I can’t fail them. I won’t fail them. This isn’t just about me, or even Clara, anymore – it’s about everyone at Delagado Towers.
I know it’s odd. I know it is totally irrational, but I can’t help feeling that if I get Clara back, I can somehow pull everything around and find our missing songbird.
Get the company back on track. I take a deep breath and focus on the screen.
Her file must be here somewhere. She’d transferred only yesterday from reception.
It won’t have filtered through to my department, but it should be here on the company screen.
I start scrolling through the employee records.
With every flick of the mouse, I feel an overwhelming sense of nausea.
All these souls. I’m responsible for all of these people.
Suddenly I see the right file. C. Thompson.
Ridiculous. I don’t even know her last name, but this must be her.
She’s still registered as working in reception.
With a sense of elation, I open the file.
Yes! It even has a photo of her. Clara Thompson.
My Clara. I punch her telephone number into my phone.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ comes an irritated voice.
I look up, that foolish grin still plastered across my face. Betsy’s standing in the doorway, scolding.
‘Bets,’ I say, barely able to hide the excitement. ‘I wanted to get Clara’s home address.’
But Betsy is not looking happy. In fact, the woman feels like an ice-cold wind as she steps purposefully across the office and pulls the plug out of the back of the computer.
‘What?’ I’m dumbfounded.
Betsy narrows her hard, grey eyes, and when she speaks, there’s not an ounce of friendship in her voice, or human understanding. ‘I need a word with you. Now.’
* * *
CLARA
Once again, the crypt smells of incense and candle wax, the familiar scent that usually comforts me. Not today.
My stomach churns as I walk through the heavy wooden door. The choir is already gathered, warming up their voices with scales and arpeggios.
Evelyn spots me and waves me over enthusiastically. ‘Clara, come join us, we’re just about to start.’
I force a smile and make my way to an empty spot in the front row. My heart’s pounding in my chest so hard it’s practically drowning out the sound of the choir.
How could I have been so stupid? Marco wanted his bit of fun. That whole secret courtyard crap. I bet he takes all his lady friends there. I’m so mad at myself I could spit.
Evelyn taps her conductor’s baton, bringing the chatter to a halt. ‘Shall we begin with “Amazing Grace”?’
The choir nods, sorts through their sheet music in preparation.
Evelyn looks at me expectantly. ‘Right, the solo, Clara.’
My face burns and my knees go weak. I just don’t have the confidence anymore. It feels as though I’m wearing my skin inside out – everything is far too painful, too raw.
I clear my throat. ‘Evelyn, I… I don’t think I should sing the solo today.’
Evelyn frowns, glances between me and the choir.
I know she’s wondering how to handle this delicately in front of everyone.
She knows my confidence isn’t the best and has worked so hard to bring me on.
She smiles sympathetically, turns her attention quickly back to the choir. ‘Susan, would you do the honours?’
Understandably, Susan looks thrilled at the opportunity.
And as Susan’s voice echoes out through the crypt, it seems as if my entire life is leaving me behind.
But I don’t even feel envious. All I feel is relief.
My mind is occupied with self-loathing, which is a meaty mode of operation.
There’s no room for wondering if Susan’s better than me.
I don’t care. If only I hadn’t been so utterly daft.
I never have sex with a man on a first date, and last night wasn’t even a date! What an idiot I’ve been.
Once again, I try to focus on the melody, to lose myself in the familiar words of ‘Amazing Grace’.
But each note only reminds me of what I’ve lost. By the time we reach the chorus, and the entire choir is supposed to come in, tears blur my vision and I start to sob.
Everyone is looking at me. I can’t do this anymore and make a break for the door.
There’s a small garden in the churchyard.
It’s supposed to be a place of reflection and peace.
I throw myself down onto the wooden bench dedicated with a small plaque to a guy named Tony.
He’s just going to have to budge over, although I’m not sure I’m going to be good company.
Today I may be doing the reflection, but I’m not so sure about the peace.
‘Clara?’ I hear Evelyn’s voice behind me. She reaches out gently and touches my shoulder before sitting beside me. Her face is full of concern. ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’
I choke back a sob. ‘You don’t understand, Evelyn. I’ve made such a mess of things. And now…’ I gesture helplessly at the choir. ‘…I can’t even sing solo here anymore, and I’d worked so hard to get there.’
‘It’s not important,’ Evelyn says firmly.
‘You have worked hard. This is not a problem. Everyone has setbacks. Next week, you’ll be fine.
The important thing is, even if you take a few steps back, it doesn’t mean you’re heading in that direction permanently.
You’ll get your confidence back and start moving forward again. I promise.’
I wipe my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. ‘It’s been tough at work. I’ve been an idiot, actually.’
‘So.’ Evelyn shrugs.
‘I left a door open, the office got burgled.’
‘Ah.’ Her tone changes. ‘Did they take anything valuable?’
‘Guitars, and it threw the audition log into chaos.’ I sigh, unsure how much to tell Evelyn.
‘And?’
How is it that everyone knows when I’m trying to hide something? ‘I recorded my own voice. Left it in the office. Marco Delagado, the head of the company, he heard the recording and now he’s obsessed with finding the voice.’
Evelyn frowns. ‘Your voice.’
I nod. ‘But…’ My shoulders rise in an expression of true hopelessness. ‘…I can’t tell him it’s me because–’
‘Of the stuff that’s been stolen.’ Evelyn exhales a long, low breath. ‘That is a mess.’
‘Oh, it gets worse,’ I say miserably. ‘I slept with him too.’
Evelyn chews her top lip. ‘Hmmm.’
‘Exactly.’ I feel like a hopeless and very silly child. ‘What do I do now?’
She rubs her hands over her skirt, flicks her nails as if thinking. ‘Probably own up to having left the door open, and, I mean, is this a relationship?’
‘Marco,’ I scoff. ‘No. After I slept with him, he just walked off.’
‘Bastard!’
I feel totally shocked. Evelyn is a churchgoing chorister. Bad language is not in her repertoire.
‘You think?’
She nods back an affirmative.
‘I’m just not sure…’ I draw my words out, trying to give myself a little thinking time. ‘I’m not sure how I can move on from this. My voice, the recording, the robbery… the casual sex, which I swear is just not my style.’
Can I get thrown out of the choir for casual sex? I’m not sure. God, I wish I’d left that bit out. ‘Everything is a total mess,’ I say. Hoping that maybe Evelyn will forget about the sex bit. Although she did call him a bastard, so I’m guessing not.
She places one hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle rub. ‘Not everything is a mess. You still have your talent and your passion. Your confidence will come back, I promise. It’s just taken a hit. Naturally. You’ve had a seriously fucked-up week.’
I laugh. ‘Evelyn! Are you allowed to swear?’
She shoots me a hard look. ‘When it’s strictly and unavoidably necessary, damn straight. Now…’ She drops her hand to her lap. ‘…chin up – let’s finish this hymn.’