‘Woah. Mate. What then?’
‘She started hitting me around the head, so I moved her outside and barricaded the door. Security had to escort her out.’
‘That’s a bad evening.’
‘Yeah. I’d had a shitty day, too. I had to make over two hundred people redundant.’ On paper, James had just been doing his job, but, in practice, it was never comfortable witnessing the devastation of people who might not be able to meet their mortgages or pay their school fees.
On the one hand, it was arguably foolhardy to earn enough for a fancy lifestyle involving a big house, private schools and expensive holidays, but not save for a rainy day. If any of these people had had a childhood like James’s, they’d probably have learned to be a lot more prudent. James’s mother, and by extension her children, had frequently barely known where the next meal was coming from, let alone new clothes or a holiday.
On the other hand, you’d have to be made of stone not to feel sympathy watching a grown man cry. Plus, James didn’t like to be reminded even slightly about unemployment or poverty.
‘That’s a bad day,’ Matt said.
‘Yep. With ongoing backlash.’ How the hell had so many of these people got hold of his phone number? It was bad enough that a lot of them had found his email address, but the messages and the phone calls were ridiculous. And what did they expect James to do about the redundancies? He was just doing his job. Without that loss-making part of the business, the rest of the company his fund had just bought should survive. With it, the whole thing would almost certainly go under, and then a lot more people would lose their jobs. ‘I’m wondering how so many of these people knew how to find me.’
‘Facebook. I’m on there now. Emily’s posted stuff online about you and she’s given out your personal email address and phone number and linked it all to your firm.’
‘Christ.’ He shouldnothave told her that he’d had a bad day on Wednesday. Never confide in anyone except your closest friends. If you confided at all.
‘Yep. Sorry, mate. What’re you going to do now?’
‘Well, that’s the question. How far will she go? She’s been back a couple of times. Is she going to keep coming? And how many times is she going to get past Security? I obviously don’t want to see her again. For a start, I don’t want to have to manhandle her out of my way.’
‘Yeah, definitely don’t do that. She might claim you’d attacked her.’
‘Exactly. But I don’t want to call the police myself because, you know, you just don’t, do you?’ James was fairly sure that Matt didn’t really know. James hated all things remotely sordid. They’d had the police round a few times when he was a child and he didn’t want to revisit those memories. By contrast, it was pretty unlikely that police visits had featured heavily in Matt’s childhood with happily married parents in a large house in a leafy suburb of Dublin. In fact, James would know if they had. Matt was an open book, which it was easy to be when all the pages of your life were as clean and wholesome as Matt’s were.
‘Fair enough,’ Matt said. ‘Did you take selfies of the injuries to your face? If not, maybe you should? Also, you have your one hundred and fifty witnesses. And I can save the recording from Facebook. She can’t argue with that. What about, if she gets past your building security you just threaten to call the police and hope that does the trick? I think you also need to tell her you’ll call the police if she posts your home address.’
‘Yeah, I think you’re right.’
‘What are you doing today? Want me to come over now and check whether the coast’s clear? Or you’re very welcome to move into our spare room for as long as it takes. Becca’s mum left yesterday.’ James thought longingly of Matt and his wife Becca’s spare room in their house in Clapham and even more longingly of Matt’s frequent barbecues and Becca’s tendency to insist on making large fry-up breakfasts for anyone in the house. And less longingly of their six-week-old, Charlie, and his tendency to scream the house down for half the night, according to Matt. Yup, he wasn’t going to go. If he needed to move out, he’d sleep a lot better in a hotel.
‘Thank you. Both very tempting offers but I’m big enough and ugly enough to look after myself, and I think you and Becca need your time with Charlie. I’ll take your advice on the selfies and the police threat, and go out now to get some breakfast if she isn’t there.’
‘Not ugly enough, mate. That’s your problem. The offer’s always there.’
‘Thank you.’ Matt was a great friend.
James changed into running kit and then decided that he should message Emily sooner rather than later.
Emily. If you give my personal details to anyone else I will call the police. I would remind you also that a lot of people saw you physically attack me on Wednesday, and not all of them would be willing to perjure themselves in court, plus I have a video.
Two grey ticks but she didn’t pick it up.
He poked his head outside the front door. No sign of her in the hall outside; hopefully he was safe to go out.
She was there, waiting outside the building, when James got back with a takeaway granola and a coffee after a satisfyingly pounding run. For a moment he considered leaving again, and then he decided that he wasn’t going to be pushed out of his own home.
She held out a bakery bag as he approached. ‘I brought you breakfast to apologise. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have shared your details online.’ Right.
‘That’s kind, thank you,’ James said, not smiling, ‘but I’ve already got breakfast.’
‘Could we talk?’ Emily smiled at him and put her hand on his arm. James shook his head slightly. The contrasts between her moods were frightening.
He moved his arm away from her, and said, ‘I’m sorry, but no. I have a busy day.’
Emily smiled again and said, ‘Okay, later.’ She leaned forward to kiss his cheek before he could step away from her, and then set off down the road. James shook his head again and went inside. He really hoped he wouldn’t be talking to her later. After everything he’d experienced with his mother and his sister Leonie, he didn’t ever want to be involved in a complicated relationship again. Or any kind of serious relationship, for that matter.
