Chapter Two

Chapter Two

         The rush-hour throng of fellow passengers pushing past her on her way to the station’s main exit did not bother her today. Nor was she in any particular rush to get to the office. She was only a month into her new job, and was grateful for the challenge it provided for now, even if the products she had to promote didn’t set her pants on fire. Plastic gadgets in all shapes, sizes and colours. She looked forward to the detailed product training course she was due to attend, but even so she couldn’t envisage this being a long-term career for her.
         Many of the processes and procedures within the company as a whole she found immensely archaic, and it was clear that PlastCom hadn’t moved into the twenty-first century along with the rest of the world. However, she needed to regain some stability to her CV following the turmoil from the previous twelve months. She had left her job as a recruitment consultant for a large practice specialising in headhunting marketing directors and executives to go and work for Adam. That move, due to events turning out somewhat contradictory to expectations, had lasted a mere seven months, forcing her onto the job market.
         Working for Adam had in many ways suited both their needs. That way, they could see more of each other and it moved Lucy from a large firm of recruitment consultants to Adam’s marketing consultancy, which was a much smaller office. Regardless of how careful and discreet they were around the office, the colleagues soon got wind of the relationship. This made for a difficult and uncomfortable atmosphere, something which Lucy very much took to heart. It was this, which prompted her to apply for the position at PlastCom.

          ‘Good morning, Lucy!’ she was greeted by the ever-cheerful Kimberley as she entered the office on the sixth floor of the Tower Block in the heart of the City centre. Kimberley was one of those people you couldn’t help but take an instant liking to, she was a warm and giving person and it oozed from her every pore.
          ‘Morning’ she replied, smiling. She connected her laptop to the docking station and checked the voice mail messages on her phone.
          ‘You look like you had a rough night; did the twins keep you awake last night?’          Lucy smiled. ‘No, I went out with a friend last night and we had perhaps one too many. I do feel a little rough but don’t deserve any sympathy, it’s all self-inflicted.’ In fact, she felt nauseous and wondered whether she should have had any breakfast. She hoped it would wear off over the course of the day. Perhaps a greasy lunch would help soak up the remaining alcohol.
          ‘How about you, did you get up to anything?’
          ‘No, not really, I went down to the Stables straight from work and took Thunder out for a ride. I was knackered afterwards, so Dave and I just had a take-away and an early night. I watched the last episode of ER though, it was great!’
          ‘Oh yes, I taped that, might try and watch it this evening. Don’t tell me what happened!’ Lucy grinned. Kimberley was well known for her infatuation with the actor playing John Carter in the popular hospital drama, and the two of them often spent a good fifteen minutes in the morning after the previous episode, discussing the characters, plots and possible romantic developments.
          ‘Well, I can tell you Dave is relieved the series is over, that he won’t have to contend with me going on about Carter for the next few months’. They both laughed.
         Lucy spent the morning working on next year’s price list, working out special customer discounts and planning brochures for the company’s stand at the exhibition in Munich that following spring. She was planning a number of displays and give-aways, and was working closely with an agency in Connecticut. She also had to draw up a list of customers who they were going to invite along to Munich, at the company’s expense.
         She and Kim grabbed a sandwich from Prêt A Manger at the bottom of the street, and then headed straight back to the office. There was no time to take a proper lunch break. Lucy then spent the afternoon trying to come to an agreement with the US agency who had been chosen to provide the two-meter-square display boards as well as t-shirts, baseball caps, golf balls, pens and mugs, all adorned with the PlastCom logo. Prices, discount, delivery terms, quality control, design and layout were all on the agenda for the two-hour telephone conference, and, though exhausted when she packed up her bag to catch her train, she was satisfied with having negotiated a damn good deal for PlastCom. However, on Monday she had to do a presentation to the Board detailing the deal she had closed, and deliver to them her overall proposal for the Munich exhibition. This would be her first presentation in her new role and she felt slightly nervous just thinking about it. The real sticking point would be the Board’s reaction to her four proposals for a new corporate logo.

         She slumped down on the sofa and put her feet up on the sofa table when she got home. The answering machine was beeping, indicating there were new messages, however she was exhausted from her day at the office, not helped by the fact that the hangover still seemed to be lingering. Her stomach felt numb and she was put off by the mere thought of food. Instead, she made herself a camomile tea and snuggled up to watch the News. She enjoyed the start of the weekend, and relished the fact that she was on her own without the twins. She could have a nice long lie-in tomorrow before heading down to visit her sister for an afternoon of pampering at the beauty salon she owned.
         Grace was single, successful and proud of it. Four years older than Lucy, Grace had opted for a stint as an au pair in Switzerland followed by a beauty course at the local college rather than Lucy’s more predictable and, to their parents, acceptable route of A-levels and a University degree. When their grandmother passed away, they had each inherited a tidy sum of money, which Grace used to set up her own business while Lucy’s was spent paying off her student debts and on a deposit towards the house. Grace’s decision to open up her own salon couldn’t have been timed better. Mrs Millard, the previous owner of Beauty Treats was retiring and none of her own staff had neither the money nor the business aptitude to take over from her. Mrs Millard also had no family, only a younger live-in lover and two cats. After months of research and negotiations, Grace struck a deal with the salon’s former owner, which was to the immense satisfaction of both. Mrs Millard had her retirement fund and moved to Corsica, while Grace had the beginnings of her own empire. With no one to think of but herself, Grace made the most of her inbuilt tenacity and grafting nature, she worked her fingers to the bone and in time opened up two more salons in neighbouring towns. She now spent her time managing the three salons but stepped in to do waxing and pedicures whenever she was short-staffed. She also completed an NVQ in bookkeeping and thus kept her own books as well as ordering stocks from suppliers and recruiting new staff. She was toying with the idea of opening up another salon to add to her little empire.
         In many ways, this way of life appealed to Lucy. She often toyed with the idea of opening her own advertising agency; it had been a dream, which started over bottles of cider with a couple of girlfriends at University. When drunk, they were all full of crazy and outrageous ideas, which were rarely realistic. However, at the back of her mind Lucy had always hoped that the less outrageous of their concepts could, one day, be turned into reality. She knew that this could now never come true, not when she was a single mother providing for two growing boys. She was also not sure she wanted to be an absent mum, which invariably she would be as she’d have to put in long hours to make things work. And at the end of the day, although she hated to admit it, she quite enjoyed the nine-to-five routine, working for someone else without having to worry whether she’d be able to pay the staff salaries each month.
         Her stomach gave a loud, protesting grumble and she realised it was almost eight o’clock already and she still hadn’t had anything to eat. The fridge was filled with tempting food but she couldn’t face cooking a meal for herself or even warming the remaining casserole from the previous night, so she made herself a sandwich. She still felt terrible. She wondered whether their drinks had been spiked, she’d read about that in the papers several times. But when she thought about it some more, she laughed at herself for always thinking the worst. She should just have stayed off the doubles instead of trying to implicate a fictitious third-party in her self-inflicted woes. Only she was to blame on this one. And Mandy, of course.

         The following morning she awoke to the sound of birdsong outside her window. Beams of sunshine filtered through the curtains but the house was wrapped in deep silence. It took a short while for Lucy to recall that the boys were hiking in the Dales with Dennis. She was disappointed that she hadn’t received a phone call from Dennis and the boys the previous evening, but he had warned her that he might not be able to get any reception on his mobile phone.
         The beautiful autumn morning did little to remove the sense of nausea that still gripped her in the pit of her stomach. She pulled her dressing gown over her silky nightie and headed for the bathroom. She felt terrible. It was as if she wanted to wretch but she knew she didn’t want to be sick. Perhaps she’d picked up a bug, they were always doing the rounds at the school.
         She forced down half a slice of toast and a cup of tea, and then went back to bed. She stayed there, restless but unable to move. Eventually, she drifted off into a light doze. She dreamed of Adam. Surprising, really, that she still did so. They were walking the grounds of a castle or large manor, hand in hand. They sat down in the shade of a large oak tree, Adam leaning against the tree while Lucy sat between his legs in front of him. She leaned her head back to rest against his shoulder. He held her tightly, stroked her arm with one hand while wrapping his other arm around her. ‘I love you’ he whispered. Lucy woke up with a start. The telephone was ringing and for a second she lost her bearings. The dream had been so real, she could smell Adam on her skin, feel his arms wrapped around her yet she knew it had been a dream.
          ‘Hello mummy’ said a tiny voice at the other end of the telephone.
          ‘Georgie darling, how are you? Are you missing Mummy?’
          ‘Yes’
          ‘Are you having a good time with Daddy?’
         Georgie went into an excited, rambling account of a bonfire with sausages and fizzy drinks, of putting the tent up in the drizzling rain and staying up late reading stories with Daddy.
          ‘That sounds wonderful, darling’ she could hear James whining in the background, eager to talk to her. ‘It’s my turn now, Daddy, tell Georgie.’ This was followed by a ‘Bye Mummy’ from Georgie and the handing over of the phone to James.
          ‘Mummy, we grilled our sausages on a real fire last night, and Georgie dropped his into the fire but I didn’t!’
          ‘Oh, that’s a clever boy! So are you having a good time then?’
          ‘Yeah, it’s brilliant, Mummy! Can you come and join us?’
         Lucy gasped, felt her heart being ripped from her chest. ‘No, I am sorry, darling, Mummy can’t come. I am going to visit Aunty Grace today.’
          ‘Well, can we come to visit Aunty Grace, too?’
          ‘No, you are going to spend another night in the tent with Daddy, that’s much more exciting, isn’t it?’
          ‘Yeah suppose so’ James sounded sad, sullen. She desperately wanted to hug him. ‘Can you put Daddy on please?’
          ‘OK, bye Mummy, love you!’
          ‘I love you too, darling. A big kiss to you and Georgie, OK?’
          ‘OK’. She heard him saying ‘Mummy wants to talk to you’ to Dennis and once again the phone was handed over.
          ‘Hello Lucy, everything OK?’
          ‘Yes, thank you. Not feeling great though, think I’ve caught a bug or something. What are you up to today?’
          ‘We’re just going for a walk, there are a couple of my childhood haunts I’d like to introduce to the boys, and we might stop by Mum and Dad’s for our tea’.
          ‘That sounds nice, the boys would love that. Say hello from me, will you?’
          ‘Sure. Look, I have to go; the battery on the phone is running low and I forgot my car charger so I have to try and preserve it as much as I can, you know, for emergencies. I will bring the boys back by five tomorrow as agreed, all right?’
          ‘Yeah fine, have a good time’.
          ‘You too, bye. Oh, and I hope you feel better soon.’
          ‘Thanks… Bye.’
         Replacing the receiver, she felt somewhat better for having spoken to her boys at last. She missed them whenever they were apart even though she also enjoyed the freedom the alternate weekends gave her. She turned on the radio and headed for the shower. Her overnight bag was already packed and she was ready to head down the motorway to Grace’s.
         She smiled to herself as she thought of her somewhat eccentric but hugely loveable sister. They didn’t have much in common, apart from the delicate nose and superb, athletic legs. While Lucy preferred her brown hair to be long, Grace had always worn hers short, often adorned with multicoloured highlights. At work and at home, Lucy always preferred the mix of somewhat formal business suits or jeans and feminine tops or accessories. She liked to think her style was eclectic yet relaxed. By contrast, Grace seemed to just pull on whatever was clean; unless, of course, she was wearing her pristine white uniform with the salon logo printed on the breast pocket. Her make-up, nails and hair were always immaculate, though, as they would have to be in her line of work. There could hardly be a worse form of unfavourable advertisement for the salons than their proprietor having grubby fingernails.
         It wasn’t just on the outside that they differed so much; Lucy could never imagine not being married and having children. Somehow it helped to define who she was although she also had the strong businesswoman in her, a skilled negotiator and diplomatic team player.
         Though not selfish, Grace had far too many plans for her life and felt there was no room for a third-party and certainly not for the nappy-wearing kind. What she could never admit to, was that motherhood, in fact, scared her and she was often in awe of pregnant women and certainly of mothers with several children in tow. Such selflessness, she felt, was beyond her.
         After getting dressed, Lucy pulled open the curtains and opened the windows, then made the bed. Her mother had instilled her with a sense of tidiness, which she couldn’t and, frankly, didn’t want to shake. She liked her home to be tidy and clean although she didn’t regard herself as being obsessive. As she shook the duvet, she recalled how she and Adam had picked the bed linen during their first shopping trip together. At the same time, they had replaced the duvet and pillows; they wanted everything to be fresh, theirs. She had considered giving it to a charity shop now that she was no longer with him, as the memories of the times spent between these very sheets with Adam were still too painful. However, she didn’t feel ready for it and also clung to a futile hope of a resurrection of their relationship; that together they would rise, hand in hand, like a phoenix from the ashes. She shook her head at her own foolishness. When hell freezes over, she thought.

         Grace was busy making up the bed in the spare room when the phone rang. She turned down the stereo, which was blaring out a song by the Stereophonics, and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs leading to the first floor of her three-storey town house.
          ‘Hello Grace speaking’. She heard a crackling noise, then the sound of coins dropping.
          ‘Grace? Grace, is that you?’
          ‘Yes’
          ‘Hi, it’s Tammy’. There was a long pause. ‘Tammy Jamieson, we met in Gibraltar, remember?’ Oh yes, Grace remembered.
          ‘Oh, I didn’t recognise your voice there for a minute. Are you OK?’
          ‘Yeah I am fine. Listen, I haven’t got much change left so I have to make this quick. I am in Hamburg at the moment, and flying into London tomorrow night, I wondered if I could take you up on that offer of somewhere to stay if ever I needed it?’
          ‘Ehm, sure, what time will you get here?’ but before she got a reply, the call was disconnected. She hoped Tammy would arrive after Lucy had left. It just might turn out to be somewhat awkward otherwise.
         Grace turned up the music once more and checked on the homemade quiche, which was almost ready to be taken out of the oven. She enjoyed cooking but rarely did so for herself, and she found herself relishing even the thought of planning a meal for any visitors that stopped by her house. If she knew a friend or relative would not be staying for a meal, she would bake one of her favourite cakes. She would have made someone a perfect little housewife. She knew, however, that she didn’t have it in her and that was why she had chosen the life she now had. Of course, she had wanted kids once but nine months spent working as an au pair for a spoilt brat with gormless idiots for parents had soon put a stop to that desire. If this is what it is like having kids, then thanks but no thanks, she had thought at that time. James and Georgie, her two adorable godsons had altered that view for her.
         Returning to the spare room, she opened the large double-door oak wardrobe and placed two green bath towels on the ready-made bed. She then retrieved the spare bathrobe, which she kept for special visitors – in fact she couldn’t recall ever having offered it to anyone but Lucy. It was fluffy and soft, just as they both liked it, and she hung it on a hanger behind the door. She was softly humming along to the music blaring away downstairs. The townhouse (named ‘Windrush’ by a former owner) had been hers now for almost a decade and it was in every sense of the word her home. She often felt when visiting friends that she regarded the places where they lived as their ‘house’ rather than their ‘home’. With everything painted crème Anglaise these days, and most furniture purchased from Ikea, many houses looked almost identical, and certainly too conformist for her liking. Most of her furniture was purchased from vintage shops, flea markets and auctions; she had always had an eye for a bargain. She combined this furniture with an interesting mix of colour schemes around the house so that nearly every room had a different colour. The spare room was thus referred to as the Green Room, for obvious reasons. Her own bedroom, which she called her ‘Boudoir’, was a vibrant mix of different shades of lilac and orange and she found it highly sensual.
         She fluffed up the cushions on the bed and checked the window ledge for dust; she had become increasingly fussy about such things and made sure her cleaner, or ‘My Lady’ as she mostly referred to Gina, did a pristine job. Grace felt so lucky at having found her, by pure coincidence. Her washing machine had broken down one Friday evening and the earliest she could get a plumber to have a look at it would be the following Wednesday; she had been close to tears. She was leaving for a week’s holiday in Dubai the following day and needed to get some washing done for the trip. Gina had been at the laundrette with her three children, a boy of five or six at the time and two girls aged three and nine months. Her husband had left her in the lurch when the youngest was only a few weeks old and she was struggling to make ends meet being a single mum working at Tesco’s. They had started chatting, warming their hands on the cups of instant coffee purchased at the laundrette and became firm friends. After a few weeks it occurred to Grace that she needed a cleaner to help her keep on top of all the domestic work which she struggled to do herself, what with spending so much time between her three salons and also enjoying a busy social life. When she asked if Gina knew anyone, she’d offered to do it herself, ‘moonlighting, like, so I don’t have to pay tax’ Gina had said.
         They struck a deal and it’d worked a treat for over five years. That they were still best buddies, which Gina reminded her whenever they went out for a drink, was because Grace still treated her as a friend, not an employee or a skivvie. They had even been on holiday together once, had rented a cottage in a tiny fishing village off the coast of Cornwall but unfortunately the children had driven Grace to tears. They had decided not to holiday together again but there had been no animosity. At least Gina was not one of those parents who couldn’t see their kids’ fault even if it was blindingly obvious.
         Yet again she had lost track of time and realised with a start that the oven timer was beeping. She rushed downstairs and removed it just as the doorbell also rang. Perfect timing.
          ‘Hello, Sis’ Lucy said with a large grin and they hugged each other tightly.
          ‘You look fab, Luce. Did you have a good journey?’
          ‘Yes it wasn’t too bad, but I tell you, I am dying for a wee!’
          ‘Right well, let me take that’ Grace said, taking Lucy’s black bag, ‘and take it up to your room. You know where the bathroom is’.
         When Grace returned to the kitchen, Lucy was still in the bathroom. She opened a bottle of white wine (a concession to Lucy more than anything else; Grace herself preferred red) and got two crystal glasses from her wall cabinet. She poured the wine and started making the salad.
          ‘Are you all right out there, Luce?’ she shouted. She heard the toilet flushing, then the water running in the sink and Lucy unlocked the door.
          ‘Are you OK?’ she asked again.
          ‘Yeah I am fine, just a bit of a bug I think’. Grace handed her a glass of wine and said, ‘I thought we’d have a quick bite to eat before we head down to the salon. Otherwise it will be far too late for me if we wait til we’ve finished sprucing you up.’ They both laughed.
          ‘Hmmm… that quiche smells delicious!’
          ‘Cheese, onion and cauliflower, your favourite’ Grace smiled.
          ‘Ah you are a sweetie. I don’t know how you find the time though, Grace, what is your secret?’
          ‘Not what, who!’
          ‘You mean, Gina?’
          ‘Yes, she is fab! I don’t know what I’d do without her! Oh, and I’ve also started having my ironing done. If there is one thing I abhor it’s ironing!’ she exclaimed.
          ‘Really? I find it so soothing. I love doing the ironing in the evening while watching the telly. Half an hour each night is enough for me to keep on top of the pile, and believe me, the boys go through a hell of a lot of washing!’
          ‘Nah, I can’t be arsed I am afraid, and besides, I am far too busy. Did I tell you I am thinking about buying opening another salon?’
          ‘Yes you did, have you found any suitable locations?’ She started setting the table with the crockery, which Grace had already put out. Grace lit the candles, pulled the curtains and switched on a beautifully ornate Victorian lamp on her desk in the corner. The living room was almost transformed, bathed in cosy lighting. Ambiance, Grace called it. She was into that sort of thing.
          ‘I’ve been looking around, yes, but think I want to do something different this time’.
          ‘Really? In what way different?’
          ‘Well, I’ve found an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, it’s in need of some serious TLC but I’ve been thinking about having the salon done out downstairs, with living quarters upstairs.’
          ‘For you to live in?’ Lucy asked, somewhat surprised.
          ‘Yes, or let out to tenants, I haven’t decided yet.’
          ‘What about this place?’
          ‘Well, that’s the only downside. It’s now exactly as I’ve always wanted it, I’ve worked hard to do it up as I intended but perhaps that’s part of it. This is a finished project and I’d like to try my hands at something different.’
          ‘Well, exactly how much TLC does the farmhouse need?’ Lucy queried, tucking into her food.
          ‘It needs a new kitchen. In fact, if the salon is going to be located downstairs, I might have to move the kitchen upstairs, depending on planning regulations. It’s not a listed building so from that point of view it shouldn’t be an issue. I’d have to put in a cloakroom downstairs though, you know, for the clients. It’s basically just a shell and a shell, as you know, is a blank canvas to me.’
          ‘Sounds great but where will you find the time? I mean, if you’ve had to hire a cleaner and someone to do your ironing, how will you find the time to work on the house?’
          ‘Well, I was thinking of promoting one of my girls to assistant manager. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since last Christmas. She would take over some of the day-to-day running while I’d still do the books and the recruiting of new staff. Mind you, it’s not like I do an awful lot of recruiting for the current three salons. I am lucky in that my girls enjoy working for me so I’ve only had one girl leave in the past three years, and she was moving to Canada with her boyfriend.’
          ‘That’s impressive, it’s difficult to find any medium sized business with such low turnover of staff these days’.
          ‘Well, you know me, I’m the mothering type, so I look after my girls, don’t I?’ They both roared with laughter at Grace referring to herself as the mothering type. They both knew she had only the bare minimum of a maternal instinct, however Lucy didn’t mind because she had enough of affection for her boys, which was just as well because they, in turn, adored their Aunty Grace.

         They entered the High Street salon shortly after seven. All staff had already gone home and the doors had been shut to normal customers for over two hours. But then again, Lucy was hardly a ‘normal’ customer. What use was it to have a beautician for a sister if you couldn’t make the most of it now and again? A young girl with beautiful auburn hair tied up in a bun entered the treatment room from the back door.
          ‘Oh hello Laura, this is my sister, Lucy’. Lucy shook Laura’s hand and smiled at her, she seemed a charming girl, perhaps nineteen with freckles galore yet her complexion was stunning. She had even, white teeth and a ready smile and Lucy liked her from the word go.
          ‘Thanks for coming back, Laura, I appreciate it.’
          ‘Yeah, so do I’ Lucy said.
          ‘That’s OK, Grace has promised me an extra five percent bonus on next week’s takings and I hadn’t any plans anyway. Me and John just split up so I can’t be bothered to go out. What do you want me to do first, Grace?’
          ‘Well, I thought you could do the manicure while I give her a facial, is that all right?’
          ‘Yeah fine!’
          ‘Unless you’d rather do it the other way around?’
          ‘No, manicure is fine by me!’
          ‘Great, we’ll crack on with that then. Afterwards we’ll do the full waxing – you did remember not to shave, didn’t you Luce?’
          ‘Of course I did, it’s not like I am a waxing virgin, is it?’ The three women giggled and hardly stopped doing so until, feeling like a new woman, Lucy stepped off the bench two hours later.