Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
‘We met at the press conference,’ she said. ‘We get on really well. But he talks about you all the time.’ The bitterness that crossed her face marred her youthful prettiness.
‘That’s just the way he operates,’ I said, suppressing a sigh or a scream, I didn’t know which; my body was struggling to keep up with my brain.
‘When I was with him, he did the same thing. It’s a way of making you feel off balance, like you have to work hard to keep him.
I suppose, him talking about me all the time pissed you off, and you thought you might get a bit of your own back, so you shit-talked me to Esme? ’
‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ she said.
I pressed my forefinger into the centre of my brow. ‘I bet he told you we had a wonderful time in Venice.’
She swallowed hard, nodded.
‘So you booked the same hotel? Thought you’d observe me and my feelings?’
She didn’t nod but it was clear she had. ‘He suggested it,’ she said, almost whispering.
I felt the coldness of real anger in my body, sat up a little straighter. ‘And what’s the next move in your master plan?’
‘There is no master plan!’ she cried. ‘He’s just – obsessed with you, that’s all. We’re not established enough yet; in time he’ll see how good we are together. And I was glad when I saw that you and Olly were sparking off each other.’
I narrowed my eyes at her.
‘What? It’s clear he worships you.’
I looked at her, unable to find any words for her, or for the depth of tiredness I felt.
‘I didn’t lie,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘I just didn’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lizzy.’
I waved away the apology. ‘What’s Jack doing in Venice?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Stop lying.’
Her voice was rising in pitch. ‘He came out a couple of days ago. It was really romantic, he said he wanted to surprise me.’
‘Do not tell him anything about what has happened today.’ No, I thought. She has access to my inbox. She could see everything. ‘Have you told him much? About the company, or what’s happening here?’
Her spine straightened a little, and I saw her barely masked defiance appear, her irritation at me. I was glad to finally see it: I was getting to the truth, at last. ‘He’s my partner. I don’t think you’ve got the right to tell me not to speak to my partner.’
I shook my head. ‘Do you not have the sense you were born with?’
‘And you’re not allowed to insult me,’ she said, her mouth in a thin line.
What had happened to this girl? The Jack worm had eaten into her brain, it seemed.
It was likely he had been coaching her; I could almost hear his tone in the things she was saying.
He would have been whispering into her ear, encouraging her to push back against me, saying that I didn’t have her best interests at heart.
It was what he did: reframing your world so that you started to see other people differently, so that you doubted everyone except him.
I’d only told him a few details about my family, but I remembered how subtly he had tried to suggest Alex and my father were burdens, burdens that other people wouldn’t feel obliged to care for; that it was practically a restriction of my human rights to take my dad’s daily calls.
Luckily I’d hopped on a Zoom to Sara straight after that conversation (‘What a bellend,’ she said, ‘sounds like a total psycho to me.’).
With Sasha, Jack had picked an easier target: early twenties, ambitious but insecure.
He was eroding her faith in the people around her: first it was me, then it would be her friends and the people she loved.
‘Sasha,’ I said, carefully. ‘Please believe me. I know Jack. I know how charming, witty and persuasive he is. I also know that he is not a good guy. He can be manipulative, he can be controlling. And I think he might be using you.’
‘So typical of you,’ she said, shaking her head and looking above my eyeline. ‘Why would he want me, when he’s been with the amazing Elizabeth Brinks? That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ I said, trying to ride out the sting of her words. ‘You’re a brilliant young woman. You deserve more than him.’
She was still shaking her head.
‘I’ve always tried to be supportive of you, and your career,’ I said, labouring on. ‘But this is a big betrayal, Sasha.’
She gave me an unpleasant smile. ‘You insulted me earlier. I can report you to HR for speaking to me like that,’ she said.
Enough, I thought. There was no salvaging this situation – certainly not here and now. I felt, with relief, my inner ice queen power up, the retreat of all emotion. I focused my unblinking gaze on her face, saw her self-righteous expression falter. Then I smiled, too.
‘Go ahead,’ I said.
She paused, uncertain. ‘Lizzy—’
I stood up, brushed myself down. ‘I have a meeting to get to. I’ll deal with this later. In the meantime, go and pack. Everyone will be shipping out soon. I’ll take care of my own emails, I don’t require anything from you.’
She said nothing more and I walked out of the room and across the lobby, a metallic taste in my mouth, feeling outwardly calm but knowing everything was teeming underneath, packed tight, a tinderbox.
I saw someone in my peripheral vision: Olly, approaching me.
He fell in step alongside me. ‘What’s happening? ’
I glanced at him, held his gaze, tried to convey my trust in him in that single look. ‘Tell you later. I’ve got something to do.’
Out on the street, I glanced at my message conversation with the Unknown Number, checking for a new reply.
JACK: Hey baby.
LIZZY: What do you want?
JACK: It’s time to talk.
LIZZY: You bet it is. Ice cream?
I knew he’d never rest until he’d tortured me a bit – I may as well get some ice cream out of it, I told myself. He agreed, naming a gelateria nearby, signing off with two kisses. Two kisses. It made me want to gag.
Turn him into a joke, my mind said. There’s no need to be afraid of him.
But that was the thing: there was still a very small part of me that was frightened of him.
My brief relationship with Jack had turned into a power game, with him having the upper hand.
I’d got out of it, but there was still that flicker of fear I felt at the idea of being in his company.
I stood there for a moment, breathing the Venetian breeze, rolling my shoulders as though I was preparing for a run, or a fight.
Fight or flight. But there was no point in running.