Just Business (12 page)

Niamh gave her reflection a long hard look. Other than lip gloss, she didn't often wear make-up, and she wasn't very practised at putting it on. The foundation was the same colour as the light tan of her skin, and there weren't any obvious lines that she could see. She quite liked how the dark brown mascara enhanced the colour of her eyes. It was the lipstick she was unsure about: bright pink.

‘Is this lipstick okay?' she asked Chris, who had come up behind her to use the mirror to put on his bow tie.

‘Yeah,' he replied without looking.

He was in a bad mood. He hadn't played his best golf and the eighteen holes had taken longer than usual to complete. He'd been late home and had put forward a few lame reasons not to attend the party, but she'd refused to let him off the hook.

Niamh took a few steps back from the mirror so she could see her full reflection. The black cocktail dress swirled at her knees and the open-toe shoes made her legs look longer than
what they were. Her hair was casually pinned up, blonde wisps escaping at the back of her neck.

‘Do I look okay?'

‘Yeah.'

This time he did look, a quick dismissive glance that made her feel like she fell short of the standard. Tears pricked her eyes. Maybe she should have had her hair and make-up done professionally. Maybe she should have got a second opinion on the dress before buying it. With a sudden sharp pang she missed her sister. Aisling would have gone dress shopping with her and helped her get ready. Niamh bit her lip until the urge to cry passed. Then she turned away from the mirror, and Chris, and went downstairs to wait for him.

After Sharon's encouraging phone call, Scott decided he would go to the party. His social life had been limited over the last year and he felt ready to take on something more than the occasional few beers with Brett.

He organised for Jenny to sleep over with Deb and Brett. It was the first time they would spend a night apart in fourteen months and it was with mixed feelings that he delivered the toddler, her pram, nappies and toys to her adoring aunt. Deb looked amazed when she saw the baggage that came with her niece.

‘I tried my best to think of everything,' he said.

‘Knowing you, your best won't be good enough,' was her dry response.

Scott couldn't help laughing to himself. Deb truly thought she was more organised than him but she had no idea what she had agreed to with this sleepover. She was vaguely aware that Jenny rose with the birds but she would expect something different under her own roof. She was in for a rude awakening.

‘Behave yourself,' Deb called after him as he walked down the stairs. ‘No, on second thoughts, don't … just keep away from married women.'

‘No need to worry,' he grinned over his shoulder. ‘Her husband will be there.'

At least he assumed that Niamh's husband would be there. In fact, he was counting on it. He needed to see them together to put a stop to this stupid crush he had on her.

Lucinda was ready, stunning in a backless red gown that touched the floor. She stood regally at the doorway of the living room. Her husband was absorbed, brochures strewn across the carpet where he knelt.

‘I'm ready now.'

Marcus looked up reluctantly. His mind was over in London, or maybe Paris or Rome. He had brochures on all the big European cities; each one had been read several times. All going well, they would be in Europe for summertime in the northern hemisphere. It would be their first holiday as a family. He was going to make it very special.

‘Jack in the car?' he asked and Lucinda nodded. Some might say that their child was the only thing they had in common, but those people didn't understand commitment or marriage vows. Through good times and bad.

‘Right.' He fumbled in his trouser pocket for the car keys.

Marcus was only ten years older than his wife but the last few years had not been kind to him. When they had married he had been at the crest of his career as the owner and founder of a successful software company. He was the super-brain who had written revolutionary anti-virus software and poured all his energy and business acumen into selling licences to big-name
companies. Lucinda and her new husband had enjoyed two prosperous years of marriage before the company came crashing down with all the other dotcoms. Millionaires one day, bankrupt the next.

Marcus hadn't been able to dust himself off and start over again. He lost his confidence and fell into a cycle of depression. His hair whitened, his face creased with premature wrinkles. After a couple of dark years, he started to accept what had happened and with that came the feeling that he was ready to move on. The European holiday was the milestone, the boundary between the old and the new life. Lucinda and Marcus poured their collective energy into the itinerary. What cities, when, every detail was very important. With two brilliant minds sharing the planning, it would be as close to perfect as they could get.

They held hands as they went outside to the car parked in the drive of their anonymous house. There was a warm silence as Marcus drove the forty-minute run to the city. When he pulled up outside the hotel, Lucinda gave him a lingering kiss.

‘I'll be late.'

‘Enjoy yourself.'

He meant it – Marcus wasn't possessive and was quite happy for Lucinda to go out alone. She was the breadwinner and her job had a social side. He preferred to stay at home with Jack rather than get into conversations with her colleagues about what he did for a living. There wasn't much to talk about when you stayed at home all day.

Lucinda watched Marcus slide back into the traffic, giving him a last wave. It was a modest car compared to the Mercedes he had when they met. But Jack was asleep in the back and he was their greatest asset.

Helen's initial reaction to the invitation was to throw it in the rubbish bin. But she thought about it some more and eventually decided to go. She had every right to be there and wouldn't allow herself to use Phil as a reason for not attending. She was sure he would be there; he was not one to miss a social occasion. In her mind she could already see what he would be like: his face flushed against a white shirt opened at the collar, his laugh raucous above the hum of conversation, his eyes assessing every female in the room. It was daunting but she wasn't going to let the thought of facing him scare her away.

She had her hair done and bought an expensive new dress.

‘You look very nice,' her mother said from the armchair.

‘Thanks – God knows I spent enough on this dress,' Helen smiled at her. There was a pause and she could guess what was coming next.

‘Is
he
going to be there?' her mother asked with narrowed eyes. ‘
He
' meant Phil Davis.

‘Probably.' Helen's earlier smile was frozen now and she was wondering why on earth she was going. ‘Don't worry. I'll slap him across his fat face if he comes anywhere near me.'

With that parting promise, she kissed her mother's wrinkled cheek and left for the party.

She saw Phil as soon as she walked in. His shirt was white, as she expected, and his face was flushed with the contents of the empty wineglass in his hand. There was an attractive woman by his side. His wife. Helen went to the far end of the room, picking up a glass of chardonnay on the way. It wasn't until there were a few hundred people between her and Phil that she relaxed a little. She was chatting to Donna and her boyfriend when she saw Donna's eyes widen. She knew straight away that Donna could see him coming in their direction.

‘I need to talk to you,' Phil whispered in her ear.

‘Go to hell,' she hissed at him, her voice low enough not to be heard by Donna.

‘What do you think you're doing with this sexual harassment business?'

‘I said go to hell – I'm not going to talk to you.'

‘You're being a stupid cow – drop it now before it does any more damage.'

‘What part of “go to hell” don't you understand?' she asked, raising her voice.

Phil realised he was getting nowhere. And he had limited time before his suspicious wife would seek him out.

‘I'll call you,' he said, walking away before Helen could tell him to go to hell for the fourth time.

Niamh looked around for Chris as Malcolm waffled on beside her. Where was he? He had excused himself at the end of the meal and hadn't come back. She had got her way, her reluctant husband by her side as they arrived at the city hotel. But only for a short while, it seemed.

Malcolm was trying to be charming, smattering his monologue with ‘Nee-uv's to demonstrate how proficient he had become at pronouncing her name.

Niamh had another quick look around before focusing her attention back on the CEO. They were the only two remaining at the table, everyone else was dancing. They had relative privacy.

‘Malcolm,' she began. ‘Helen said that you saw something between her and Phil.'

Malcolm's face closed down and she was wise enough not to push.

They were silent for a few minutes. Malcolm lit a cigar. He mellowed and divulged, ‘He had his hands on her hips, maybe higher, but I can't be sure as I was coming from behind. She was upset, threatening sexual harassment. I told him to lay off her …'

Niamh felt as angry with Malcolm as she was with Phil. ‘Why didn't you tell me straight away?'

‘I thought I'd handled it.'

Niamh was so furious that she couldn't trust herself to speak. How could Malcolm seriously think that he'd handled it? Didn't he understand that disciplinary action was required by law? She knew that if she opened her mouth and pursued the conversation any further, she would cause a scene, and it wasn't the time or place. Her eyes searched the room, frantic now, and fell on Scott. He was with Jessica and laughing at something she'd said. It wasn't the first time in the evening that Niamh had looked in his direction but on this occasion he caught her eye and smiled. She returned a desperate smile that signalled she needed to be rescued from Malcolm.

Scott read the signal and made his way across the room. He looked incredibly handsome in black tie and, despite herself, Niamh felt her heart start to race.

‘Would you like to dance?' he asked, his hand held out to help her to her feet.

‘Why not?' She injected surprise into her voice. ‘Excuse me, Malcolm.'

Malcolm was put out as Scott led Niamh to the dance floor. He had been trying to bond with the HR director, trying to ensure that she was on his side rather than Yoshi's. He felt he had been making ground with her and didn't at all appreciate the
interruption to their conversation. He was also very annoyed to see Scott Morgan and Helen Barnes at the party and intended to have harsh words with the social club committee about their lack of sensitivity.

The band was playing slow and jazzy numbers. Scott's arms were loose around Niamh, a formal distance between their bodies.

A couple of minutes passed before he said, ‘You look really nice …'

‘Thanks.'

His compliment went a long way to soothing the hurt caused by Chris's earlier indifference.

Scott's hands were resting on her hips and the skin underneath her dress burned. She could see rather than feel his chest rise with each breath. Her whole body ached to move closer.

‘I'm sorry we haven't responded to your lawyer yet,' she said, grasping at the first safe thought that came into her head. ‘I haven't had the opportunity to discuss your case with Lucinda.'

‘Don't worry about it,' he replied as if it was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment.

There was a lengthy silence. ‘Is Jessica your date for tonight?' Niamh was conscious of her looking in their direction. More than once.

‘Jessica
and
Sharon – they both had a part in persuading me to come.'

They continued to move in slow circles, the distance between their bodies closing ever so slightly. Every now and then their legs would touch.

‘I'm sorry for not stopping to talk that day in Manly,' she said, tilting her head back to look up at him.

His blue eyes locked with hers. ‘Was it a bad time?'

‘Sort of … I was …' She was lost for words under the closeness of his stare. She could do nothing but tell the truth. ‘I was having an … argument … with Chris.'

His eyes told her he understood. He didn't ask why she was arguing with her husband and she was thankful to him for his tact.

‘Do you live in Manly?' was his next question.

‘Yes – do you?'

‘No, my sister does, so I spend quite a lot of time there. I have a place in Dee Why, about twenty minutes' walk to the beach – perfect distance for Jenny in the stroller.'

‘She looked like she was having a great time that day.'

He smiled proudly. ‘Yeah, my girl likes the rush of speed. If she could talk properly she'd be saying, “Faster, faster!” '

The band finished the last tune in the set and announced they would be taking a break. Niamh stepped back from Scott's embrace and gave him a conspiratorial grin. ‘Thanks for helping me escape Malcolm.'