Remember Me?

Chapter 15

My marriage. That’s my priority. From now on I’m going to focus on my relationship with Eric, and nothing else.

I’m still a bit shaken the next morning, as I go into the kitchen for breakfast and take the jug of green juice out of the fridge. I must have been crazy last night. I have the dream husband, handed to me on a plate. Why would I jeopardize that? Why would I kiss some guy in the back bedroom, whatever his story was?

I pour a little green juice into a glass and swirl it around to look like dregs, which is what I do every morning. (I can’t drink that pond-weed stuff. But neither can I disappoint Eric, who thinks green juice is almost as great as loft-style living.) Then I take a boiled egg from the pan and pour myself a cup of tea from the pot that Gianna made earlier. I’m really getting into this low-carb start to the day. I have a boiled egg, bacon, or egg-white omelette every morning without fail.

And then sometimes a bagel on the way to work. Just if I’m starving.

As I sit down, the kitchen seems calm and tranquil. But I’m still jittery. What if I’d taken things further with Jon? What if Eric had found out? I could have wrecked everything. I’ve only had this marriage for a few weeks-and already I’m risking it. I need to cherish it. Like a yucca plant.

“Morning!” Eric breezes into the kitchen in a blue shirt, looking ebullient. I’m not surprised. Last night’s launch was the best they’ve ever had, apparently. “Sleep well?”

“Great, thanks!”

We’re not sharing a bedroom yet, nor have we tried sex again. But if I’m going to cherish my marriage, maybe we should be getting more physical. I stand up to get the pepper and brush deliberately against Eric.

“You look great this morning.” I smile up at him.

“So do you!”

I run my hand down his jawline. Eric’s eyes meet mine questioningly, and he puts a hand up to meet mine. I glance quickly at the clock. There isn’t time, thank God.

No. I didn’t think that.

I need to be positive. Sex with Eric is going to be great, I know it is. Maybe we just need to do it in the dark. And not talk to each other.

“How are you…feeling?” Eric says with a cryptic little smile.

“I’m feeling fine! In a bit of a hurry, though.” I flash him a smile, move away, and gulp at my tea before he can suggest a quickie against the oven. Thank goodness, he seems to get the message. He pours himself a cup of tea, then takes out his BlackBerry as it beeps.

“Ah!” he says, sounding pleased. “I’ve just won a case of ’88 Lafite Rothschild at auction.”

“Wow!” I say enthusiastically. “Well done, darling!”

“Eleven hundred quid,” he continues. “Bit of a steal.”

Eleven hundred quid?

“For…how many bottles?” I ask.

“A case.” He frowns as though it’s obvious. “Twelve.”

I can’t speak. Eleven hundred quid for twelve bottles of wine? I’m sorry, that’s just…wrong. Does he know how much eleven hundred quid is? I could buy a hundred bottles of wine for that. And they’d still be posh ones. And I’d have money left over.

“Lexi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I come to. “Just thinking…what a great deal!” With a final gulp of tea I put on my jacket and pick up my briefcase. “Bye, darling.”

“Bye, sweetheart.” Eric comes over and we kiss each other good-bye. It’s actually starting to feel quite natural. I shrug on my jacket and am at the door when something hits me.

“Hey, Eric,” I say as casually as possible. “What’s…Mont Blanc?”

“Mont Blanc?” Eric turns, his face searching mine in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Do you remember Mont Blanc?”

Okay. I really fell into this one. I can’t say “No, Jon told me.”

“I don’t remember, exactly,” I improvise. “But the name ‘Mont Blanc’ came back to me, and it seemed significant, somehow. Does it mean something…special?”

“You’ll find out, darling.” I can see the suppressed pleasure in Eric’s face. “It’ll all come back to you. I won’t say any more for now. This has to be a good sign!”

“Maybe!” I try to match his excitement. “Well…see you later!” I head out of the kitchen, racking my brain. Mont Blanc. Skiing? Those posh fountain pens? A great big snowy mountain?

I have absolutely no idea.

I get off the tube at Victoria, buy a bagel, and nibble it as I walk along. But as I get near the office, I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. I have a nasty churning in my stomach. That kind of sinking, I-don’t-want-go-to-school sensation.

Fi might be my friend again, but no one else is. And I messed up in front of Simon Johnson, and I still don’t feel on top of anything…As the building comes in sight I stop, heavy with dread.

Come on, I tell myself firmly. It’ll be fun.

No, it won’t.

Well, okay, it won’t. But I don’t have any choice.

Summoning all my determination, I chuck the rest of the bagel in a bin and push my way through the main glass doors. I head straight up to my office without bumping into anyone, sit down, and pull my pile of papers toward me. As I do so, I notice the Post-it I wrote yesterday: Discuss sales with Byron. Maybe I’ll do that now. I lift the phone to dial his extension, but put it down again when there’s a knock at the door.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lexi?” Debs edges her way into the room. She’s wearing a turquoise beaded cardigan and denim skirt, and holding an envelope.

“Oh,” I say apprehensively. “Hi, Debs.”

“How are you?” She sounds awkward.

“I’m…fine.” The door widens to reveal Fi and Carolyn, both looking ill at ease too. “Hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “Is everything okay?”

“I told them what you told me,” says Fi. “Last night we went out for a drink and I told them.”

“We didn’t realize,” says Debs, looking worried. “We didn’t give you a chance. We just assumed you were still…” She casts around for the word.

“A power-crazed nightmare,” supplies Carolyn, deadpan.

“We feel bad.” Debs bites her lip as she looks at the others. “Don’t we?”

“Don’t worry.” I force a smile. But all of a sudden, as I regard the three of them, I feel more lonely than ever. These were my mates; we were always a foursome. But now they’ve had three years of nights out and talking and laughs that I’ve missed out on. They’re banded together in a trio and I’m the stranger.

“So, I just wanted to give you this.” Debs advances toward the desk, her face pinkening, and hands me the envelope. I rip it open and pull out a stiff white engraved card. A wedding invitation.

“Hope you can come.” Debs has shoved her hands into her pockets. “You and Eric.”

I feel a rush of humiliation. Her body language is obvious. The last thing she wants is us at her wedding.

“Look, Debs, you don’t have to ask me. It’s really kind of you…” I’m trying to stuff the card back into the envelope, my face hot. “But I know you don’t really-”

“Yes, I do.” She puts her hand on mine, stopping me, and I look up. Her eyes are just the same as they ever were-deep blue with long mascaraed lashes. “You were one of my best friends, Lexi. I know things changed. But…you should be there.”

“Well…thanks,” I mumble at last. “I’d love to come.” I turn the invitation over, running a finger over the engraving. “How did you get your mother to agree to such a late guest?”

“She nearly killed me,” Debs says bluntly, and I can’t help laughing.

“Did she threaten to stop your allowance?”

“Yes!” Debs exclaims, and this time we all break into giggles. Debs’s mum has been threatening to stop her allowance ever since I’ve known her-even though she stopped giving Debs an allowance about ten years ago.

“We’ve bought some muffins, too,” says Fi. “To say sorry for yesterday…” She stops as there’s a tapping at the door. Simon Johnson is standing in the doorway.

“Simon!” I start in shock. “I didn’t see you there!”

“Lexi.” He smiles. “Available for a quick chat?”

“We’ll go,” Fi says hurriedly, and hustles the others out. “Thanks for that…er…information, Lexi. Very useful.”

“Bye, Fi!” I smile at her gratefully.

“I won’t take up your time,” Simon says, shutting the door as they leave. “Just wanted to give you the final rundown for Monday’s meeting. Obviously keep it close to your chest. Within this department, only you and Byron have this information.” He comes toward the desk, holding out a folder.

“Absolutely.” I nod in a businesslike manner. “Thanks.”

As I take the folder from him, I see June ’07 typed discreetly in the top right-hand corner and feel a twinge of foreboding. I still have no idea what June ’07 means. I searched through all my files yesterday afternoon, but found nothing. No computer files, no paperwork, nothing.

I know I should have asked Byron. But I was too proud. I wanted to figure it out for myself.

“Looking forward to it!” I pat the folder, hoping I look convincing.

“Good. It’s Monday, twelve noon sharp, in the boardroom. A couple of the nonexecutive directors have to shoot off promptly.”

“See you there,” I say with a confident smile. “Thanks, Simon.”

The minute Simon has left, I sit down and whip open the folder. The first page is entitled Summary, and I run my eyes down the text. June ’07…major restructuring…realignment in the market…overall rethink…

After a few seconds I sink down into my chair, feeling overwhelmed. No wonder this is a big secret. The whole company’s being changed around. We’re acquiring a home technology company…we’re amalgamating several departments…I flick my eyes farther down.

…context of its current sales performance…plans to disband…

What?

I read the words again. And again.

My spine has gone cold. I’m frozen on my chair, reading the lines over and over. That can’t…it can’t mean what I think it means…

With a surge of adrenaline I leap to my feet and hurtle out the door and down the corridor. There’s Simon, by the lifts, talking to Byron.

“Simon!” I’m gulping air in my panic. “Could I possibly have a quick word?”

“Lexi.” As he looks up I can see a wrinkle of irritation in his brow.

“Hi.” I look around, checking there’s no one around to overhear. “I just wanted to…to…clarify a couple of things. These plans to disband the Flooring section.” I tap the folder. “That can’t mean…you can’t really mean…”

“She’s finally twigged.” Byron folds his arms, shaking his head with such amusement that I want to punch him. He knew about this?

Simon sighs. “Lexi, we’ve been through this many times, as you know. It’s a tough market out there. You’ve done marvels with your sales force-we all appreciate that. And you yourself will be rewarded. But the department is unsustainable.”

“But you can’t get rid of Flooring! Deller Carpets is all about flooring! This is how the company started!”

“Keep your voice down!” Simon snaps sotto voce, glancing around the floor. All the pleasantness has disappeared from his veneer. “Lexi, I cannot have this level of disruption. It’s highly unprofessional.”

“But-”

“There’s nothing to worry about. You and Byron will both have new roles in senior management. It’s all been worked out very carefully. I don’t have time for this.” The lift arrives and he steps into it.

“But, Simon,” I say desperately. “You can’t just fire the whole department…”

It’s too late. The lift doors have closed.

“It’s not called firing,” Byron’s sardonic voice comes behind me. “It’s called making redundant. Get your terms right.”

“How can you just stand there?” I wheel around, incensed. “And how come I didn’t know anything about this?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Byron clicks his tongue in mock self-reproach. “I’m sorry, Lexi. It’s hard to know where to start when you’ve forgotten…let’s see. Everything.”

“Where are the files? Why didn’t I see this before?”

“I may have borrowed them.” He shrugs and heads toward his office. “Ciao.”

“No! Wait!” I push my way in behind him and close the door. “I don’t understand. Why are they axing the department?”

“Have you looked at our sales recently?” Byron rolls his eyes.

“They went up!” I retort before I can stop myself, already knowing this is the wrong tack.

“By three percent?” Byron says scoffingly. “Lexi, carpet is old news. We’ve failed to penetrate the other flooring markets. We’ve only got a couple of contracts to see out. Face it. The party’s over.”

“But we can’t just lose the department. Those original carpet designs are classics! What about…rugs?”

Byron stares at me incredulously for a moment, then bursts into laughter.

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“What?”

“You do know you’re repeating yourself? You said all this at the first crisis meeting. ‘We could make the carpets into rugs!’” he imitates me in a shrill voice. “Give up.”

“But they’ll all be out of a job! The whole team!”

“Yeah. Shame.” He sits at his desk and motions toward the door. “I have work to do?”

“You’re a bastard,” I say, my voice shaking. I stride out of his office and slam the door, still clutching the folder, breathing harder and harder until I think I might hyperventilate. I have to read all this information, I have to think…

“Lexi!” My head jerks up and instinctively I clasp the folder closer to my chest. Fi is standing at the door of the main Flooring office, beckoning me. “Come in! Have a muffin.”

For a moment I just stare speechlessly at her.

“Come on!” She laughs. “Simon Johnson’s gone now, hasn’t he?”

“Um…yes,” I say huskily. “He has.”

“Well, come on, then! We’re all waiting!”

I can’t refuse. I have to appear normal; I have to appear friendly, even though I’m in a state of meltdown…

Fi grabs my arm-and as I follow her into the main office, I feel an almighty shock. A banner has been strung up between two window latches, reading Welcome Back, Lexi!!! A plate of fresh muffins is on the filing cabinet, along with an Aveda gift basket.

“We never gave you a proper welcome back,” says Fi, her face slightly pink. “And we just wanted to say we’re glad you’re okay after the car crash.” She addresses the room. “To those of you who didn’t know Lexi way back when…I just want to say that I think this accident has changed things. I know she’s going to be the most fantastic boss and we should all get right behind her. Here’s to you, Lexi.”

She lifts her coffee mug and the whole room breaks into applause.

“Thanks, everyone,” I manage, my face puce. “You’re…all great.”

They’re all about to lose their jobs. They have no idea. And they’ve bought me muffins and a gift basket.

“Have a coffee.” Fi brings a mug over. “Let me take that folder for you…”

“No!” I gasp, clutching it tighter. “It’s…fairly confidential…”

“It’s all our bonuses, isn’t it?” Debs says with a grin, and then gives me a nudge. “Make sure they’re all nice and big, Lexi! I want a new handbag!”

Somehow I raise a sick smile. I’m in a bad dream.

As I finally leave work at six-thirty, the nightmare hasn’t lifted. I have the weekend to put together a defense of the Flooring department somehow. And I barely know what the problem is, let alone the answer. As I’m jabbing the ground-floor button in the lift, Byron slips in, wearing his overcoat.

“Working at home?” He raises his eyebrows as he sees my stuffed briefcase.

“I have to save the department,” I say shortly. “I’m going to work all weekend until I find a solution.”

“You have to be kidding.” Byron shakes his head incredulously. “Lexi, haven’t you read the proposal? This is going to be better for you and me. They’re creating a new strategic team, we’re going to have more power, more scope…”

“That’s not the point!” I cry in a blaze of fury. “What about all our friends who won’t have anything?”

“Sob, sob, let me just mop up my bleeding heart,” Byron drawls. “They’ll find jobs.” He hesitates, eyeing me closely. “You know, you weren’t bothered before.”

It takes a second or two for his words to register. “What do you mean?”

“Before you had that car crash, you were all for getting rid of Flooring. Once you saw your new package. More power for us, more money…what’s not to love?”

A coldness creeps over me.

“I don’t believe you.” My voice is jerky. “I don’t believe you. I would never have sold out my friends.”

Byron just looks at me pityingly.

“Yeah, you would. You’re not a saint, Lexi. Why should you be?” The doors open and he strides out of the lift.

I arrive at Langridge’s department store, and travel up to the personal shopping department as though in a daze. I have an appointment at seven o’clock with my shopper, Ann. According to the manual, I see her every three months and she picks out some “pieces” and we work on that season’s “look.”

“Lexi! How are you?” A voice greets me as I approach the reception area. Ann is very petite, with close-cropped dark hair, slim black cigarette pants, and a distinct perfume that turns my stomach instantly. “I was so devastated to hear about your accident!”

“I’m fine, thanks. All recovered now.” I attempt a smile.

I should have canceled this appointment. I don’t know what I’m doing here.

“Good! Now, I have some fabulous pieces for you to see.” Ann ushers me into a cubicle and presents a rail of clothes to me with a flourish. “You’ll see some new shapes and styles here, but I think you can carry them off…”

What is she talking about, new shapes and styles? They’re all suits in neutral colors. I have a cupboard full of these already.

Ann is showing me jacket after jacket, talking about pockets and lengths, but I can’t hear a word. Something is buzzing in my head like a trapped insect; it’s getting louder and louder…

“Do you have anything different?” I cut her off abruptly. “Do you have anything…alive?”

“Alive?” Ann echoes uncertainly. She hesitates, then reaches for another beige jacket. “This is full of flair…”

I stride out of the cubicle onto the main shop floor, feeling like I need to gasp for air. Blood is rushing in my ears. I feel a bit deranged, to be honest.

“This.” I seize a purple minidress with bright splodges on it. “This is great. I could go clubbing in this.”

Ann looks like she wants to pass out.

“Lexi,” she says at last. “That’s…not what I would call your style.”

“Well, I would.” Defiantly I grab a silver miniskirt. “And this.”

It’s exactly like what I’d pick up at New Look, only a million times more expensive, obviously.

“Lexi.” Ann places her fingers on the bridge of her nose and breathes in a couple of times. “I am your stylist. I know what suits you. You have a very workable, attractive, professional look that we’ve spent some time honing-”

“It’s boring. It’s stultifying.” I pluck a beige sleeveless dress out of her arms and hold it up. “I’m not this person, I’m just not.”

“Lexi, you are.”

“I’m not! I need fun. I need color.”

“You’ve existed perfectly well for several years in beige and black.” Ann’s face has tightened. “Lexi, you told me specifically at our first meeting that what you required was a working capsule wardrobe in neutral colors-”

“That was then, okay?” I’m trying to curb my agitation, but it’s as if all the events of the day are bubbling up in a rush of distress. “Maybe things have changed. Maybe I’ve changed.”

“This.” Ann comes up with another beige suit, with tiny pleats. “This is you.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not me! It’s not! I’m not this person! I won’t be her!” Tears are stinging my eyes. I start tugging pins out of my chignon, suddenly desperate to get rid of it. “I’m not the kind of person who wears beige suits! I’m not the kind of person who wears her hair in a bun every day. I’m not the kind of person who pays a thousand quid for wine. I’m not the kind of person who…who sells out her friends…”

I’m gulping with sobs by now. My chignon won’t come loose, so strands of hair are sticking out all over my head like a scarecrow. My whole face is wet with tears. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and Ann whips the beige dress away in horror.

“Don’t get tears on the Armani!” she snaps.

“Here.” I shove it back to her. “You’re welcome to it.” And without saying any more, I leave.

I head to the café on the ground floor, order a hot chocolate, and drink it while I take the rest of the pins out of my chignon. Then I order another, together with a doughnut. After a while, all the carbs have settled in my stomach like a warm, comforting cushion, and I feel better. There has to be a way, there has to. I’ll work all weekend, I’ll find the solution, I’ll save the department…

A beep from my pocket interrupts my thoughts. I pull out my phone and see it’s a text from Eric.

How are you doing? Working late?

As I stare at the words I’m suddenly touched. Overwhelmingly touched, in fact. Eric cares about me. He’s thinking about me.

On my way home now, I type back. I missed you today!!

It’s not exactly true, but it has the right sound to it.

I missed you too! comes back instantly.

I knew there was a point to marriage. And this is it. Someone to care about you when everything’s crap. Someone to cheer you up. Just texting Eric is making me feel a million times warmer than the hot chocolate did. I’m composing a reply in my head when the phone beeps once more.

Fancy a Mont Blanc??:):)

Again with the Mont Blanc. What is this? A cocktail, maybe?

Well, it’s obviously really special to Eric. And there’s only one way I’ll find out.

Great! I text back. Can’t wait!

Then I pick up my bag, head out of Langridges, and hail a taxi.

It only takes about twenty minutes to arrive home, during which time I reread three files, each more depressing than the last. Carpet sales have never been worse in the whole history of the company, whereas every other department is booming. At last I close the files and stare out the taxi window, my mind working overtime. If I could just put a rescue package together…I know there’s still value in the Deller Carpet brand-

“Love?” The taxi driver breaks me out of my reverie. “We’re here.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” I’m fumbling for my purse when my phone beeps yet again.

I’m ready!

Ready? This gets more and more mysterious.

Just got home! See you in a minute!

I text back briskly, and hand the money to the taxi driver.

As I let myself into the flat, the lights are dim, in a setting that I recognize as Seduction. Music is playing so quietly I can barely hear it; other than that it’s totally silent.

“Hi!” I call out cautiously, hanging up my coat.

“Hi!”

Eric’s distant voice seems to be coming from the bedroom. My bedroom.

Well…I guess, officially, our bedroom.

I check my reflection in the mirror and hastily give my disheveled hair a comb. Then I head to the other side of the living area and through to the bedroom. The door is only slightly ajar; I can’t see inside the room. I stand there for a moment, wondering what on earth this is all about. Then I push the door open. And at the sight before me I nearly scream out loud.

This is Mont Blanc? This is Mont Blanc?

Eric is lying on the bed. Totally naked. Except for the most massive mound of whipped cream on his genital region.

“Hi, darling.” He raises his eyebrows with a knowing twinkle, then glances downward. “Dive in!”

In?

Dive?

Dive in?

I’m paralyzed with horror as I survey the creamy, whippy mountain. Every cell in my body is telling me that I do not want to dive in.

But I can’t just turn and run away, can I? I can’t reject him. This is my husband. This is obviously…what we do.

Oh God, oh God…

Gingerly I edge forward toward the creamy edifice. Barely knowing what I’m doing, I extend a finger and take a tiny scoop from the top of the mound, then put it in my mouth.

“It’s…it’s sweetened!” My voice is grainy from nerves.

“Low calorie.” Eric beams back at me.

No. No. I’m sorry. This just…This isn’t happening. Not in my lifetime. I have to come up with an excuse…

“I feel dizzy!” The words come out of nowhere. I clap a hand to my eyes and back away from the bed. “Oh my God. I’m having a flashback.”

“A flashback?” Eric sits up, alert.

“Yes! I had a sudden memory of…the wedding,” I improvise. “It was just a brief image, of you and me, but it was really vivid, it took me by surprise…”

“Sit down, darling!” Eric is frowning anxiously. “Take it easy. Maybe some more memories will come back.”

He seems so hopeful, I feel terrible for lying. But it’s better than saying the truth, surely?

“I might just go and lie down quietly in the other room, if you don’t mind.” I head swiftly toward the door, my hand still shielding my eyes from the sight of the cream mountain. “I’m sorry, Eric, after you went to so much…trouble…”

“Darling, it’s fine! I’ll come too-” Eric makes to get up from the bed.

“No!” I cut him off a bit too shrilly. “You just…sort yourself out. I’ll be fine.”

Before he can say anything else, I hurry out and flop down on the big cream sofa. My head is spinning, whether from the Mont Blanc shocker or the whole day…I don’t know. All I know is, I feel like curling up under a duvet and pretending the world doesn’t exist. I can’t cope with this life of mine. Any of it.