‘Yes. I’m totally and utterly in love and obsessed with the guy. He feels the same way, only…’ She shrugs. ‘You know what my dad’s like.’
I know exactly what her dad’s like. Terry would never be good enough.
‘So.’ She smiles sadly. ‘You were convenient.’
‘And… you bought into the company? Why do that?’
‘Because you’ve run it into the ground. If Terry’s out of a job, it’ll mean he gets embarrassed. The difference between what I have, which is a…’ She waves her arms in a wide circle. ‘It’s a lot. And what he has – musician’s union rates. Well, there’s a sizeable gap. I can’t give him money. He’s too proud, but I can make sure his job’s secure. That’s all I’m doing. But you…’ She stands, reaches for her bag and straightens her short tan mini-skirt. ‘You, Marco, need to get your shit together.’
CLARA
I don’t want to be here. I’m not sure why Betsy’s taken over Marco’s office, or why Fitz and Betsy keep giving me sympathetic looks, but none of it’s making me comfortable.
‘I feel, it’s more…’ I hesitate. ‘Stressful on the seventeenth floor than it is in reception,’ I say. They haven’t asked me, but this has to be about my letter of resignation.
‘And.’ Betsy fixes me with her hard eyes. ‘Is there anyone in particular who has made the experience stressful for you?’
I want to say, yes, you. But I’m not sure that would go down well. Besides, I’m absolutely and utterly convinced that is not what she’s fishing for.
‘To be honest, I think I’m happier on the reception desk,’ I say. ‘Besides, it’s–’ I hear the lift open. When I look up, I see Marco striding towards the office, looking as confused as I feel. I reach for my bag. ‘I think maybe I should–’
‘Sit,’ Betsy says firmly, and I don’t dare to disobey.
What follows is possibly the worst fifteen minutes of my life. Betsy starts grilling Marco. I mean, seriously grilling him. At first, I can’t work out what the agenda is. It sounds like complaints of sexual harassment. I feel my chest tighten. Am I just the latest in a score of women he’s been having sex with alfresco? Is that his thing? In the office, out at the Beaumont. I am so naïve. But Marco insists it’s not true. He was having a break from Fitz. He’d met a few women, just a few. They were all consenting. He even offered to give Betsy their numbers so she could check it out. Only then does Betsy drop her bombshell. She accuses him of offering ‘private’ auditions. The kind where he brings girls up to the studio and records their voices in return for sexual favours. The only evidence Betsy has, the only evidence for all of that, is the missing songbird. I manage to get to my feet. My head is swimming, and I feel sure any minute I’m going to crash to the floor or scream. I need to get out, but before I go, I need to do the decent thing. I wasn’t drunk last night. He didn’t coerce me into anything. I wanted him, genuinely wanted him. Even now, here, with all the walls of normality crashing down on him, I still want him. Maybe he used me, but I used him too.
‘I’m sorry.’ Tears sting my eyes. ‘I don’t feel well…’ I can’t look into his eyes. Can’t look at the man any longer. I have to leave. ‘Mr Delagado didn’t take advantage of me.’ My voice cracks. ‘I’d like that on record, please.’
Betsy nods, although I can’t help thinking she looks disappointed.
‘I’ll see you to the lift.’ Her words sound curt and businesslike. Ever the professional.
And that’s it. The end of a love story. The end, before it even had a chance to fly.
CHAPTER 16
CLARA
Everything about Evelyn’s house is lovely. It’s not big, but it’s homely. It’s not swish, but it’s comfortable. There are finger paintings on the fridge and a large bowl with fruit, apples, pears, and grapes resting on the generous surface of the long wooden table.
‘I didn’t know where else to go,’ I say miserably, staring into the china teacup Evelyn’s pushed in front of me.
She’s jiggling Thea, her eighteen-month-old on her hip. I can’t believe that a house can be so organised when there’s this little bundle of chaos in its midst.
‘You did exactly the right thing,’ Evelyn says, popping Thea into her highchair and squeezing those chubby legs through the leg holes. ‘So, tell me all about it.’ Evelyn plonks herself down in the carver’s chair opposite me. ‘All the gory details.’
‘Sordid, Evelyn,’ I correct.
‘That bad?’ Her face furrows into a concerned frown.
‘Oh,’ I sigh. ‘It’s so much worse.’
My worries seem so different from anything Evelyn could conceive. This is a home. This is a family. My own family circumstances are such a bunfight in comparison. The smells of the evening meal waft over me. Everything here is perfect; in contrast, I am such a mess. Tears prick my eyes as I relay the whole sorry story, ending it all with a plea to the universe. Well, okay, a plea to Evelyn.
‘I can’t believe Marco’s been fired. It’s his business. Can Betsy do that?’
Evelyn shrugs. ‘As soon as he took stakeholders on, it all becomes way more complicated.’
‘But if I hadn’t left the door open. If the files hadn’t gone missing, none of this would have happened.’
