Downsizing, p.13
Downsizing, page 13
She crawled into bed, images of Noah’s laughing features dancing before her eyes as distinctly as though she’d seen him only yesterday. Suddenly it was all too much for her to bear. All these years of denying the pain, of guarding against the torrents of grief that just glancing at his picture could sometimes set in motion when she was feeling particularly low, came crashing down on her.
She’d tried to pretend she no longer felt anything for him, but now she knew she’d been deluding herself. There would only ever be one man in this world for Maxine. He’d spoiled her for all the rest, but he was married to her ex-friend. Overwhelmed by bittersweet memories, Maxine curled into a defensive ball and cried herself to sleep for the first time in years.
Chapter Thirteen
At two-thirty in the morning, the only illumination in Noah’s study was the steady glow from the screen of his laptop. He focused his gaze on it, willing Maxine to respond to his message. He’d found her email address months ago, knew her office telephone number by heart, and had even managed to get hold of her mobile number. Her mother had given it to him without batting an eye, saying she was surprised he didn’t already have it.
He knew where she lived, and where she worked. Once, when visiting Charles in London, he’d spent half a day loitering outside her office building on the off chance that she might appear. He’d looked up at the concrete and glass tower, trying to imagine her feeling at home in such a soulless monolith. The girl he remembered would have felt completely out of place in such an establishment, but he reminded himself that Maxine was now a sophisticated woman of thirty; her tastes would have changed, and he no longer knew what she liked.
She was always in his thoughts, but recently his desire to see her again—or at least to speak to her—had turned into an obsession. He’d dialed her number a dozen times, replacing the receiver before it started to ring. What was there to say after all this time? He knew he was being selfish, just wanting to hear the sound of her voice because he was feeling especially low, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She probably hardly remembered him nowadays, but if he didn’t call he could cling to the unrealistic fantasy that she might actually be pleased to hear from him.
It was the dismal state of his personal life that had prompted him to contact her by email. He’d crept out of bed two nights ago, unable to sleep in spite of the full and active days that left him physically exhausted. Careful not to disturb Cassie, he’d let himself into his study and picked up his open copy of Frenchman’s Creek. He’d found the peace of mind that so eluded him as soon as he started one of his conversations with Maxine about the book, but two nights ago even that wasn’t enough. Impulsively he took the conversation to a virtual level by typing in her email address and writing the words exactly as they came to him.
Seeking a diversion from his empty in-box, Noah contemplated the turn his life had taken. Given his time over, would he still have married Cassie? It was a question that could only have one answer. If he hadn’t married her, he wouldn’t have Josh or Billy. His sons gave his empty life meaning, a reason to work so hard, something to build on for the future, and he couldn’t imagine an existence without them.
The honeymoon period on Broad Street hadn’t lasted long. By mid-January Cassie was having difficulties coping with her pregnancy. Noah, still gripped by a fierce determination to make a success of himself, couldn’t be there for her all the time. Guilt prevented him from complaining when she spent more and more time at her mother’s house, being pampered and fussed over.
Cassie couldn’t be expected to cook for him any more according to Mrs. Turner, not in her condition. Noah didn’t see why not, but anxious to keep the peace, he resigned himself to having dinner on Lightfoot Drive each evening before taking Cassie home. Mrs. Turner inveigled herself into a position where she could poison her daughter’s mind with niggling doubts about Noah’s activities, while Graham was on hand to bombard her with compliments. Cassie soon found excuses to sleep over at her mother’s, pretending she was doing it for Noah’s sake, and before long they were virtually living under Charles’s roof again.
When Cassie unexpectedly went into early labor in mid-February, Noah was at her side for the grueling sixteen-hour ordeal. He held baby Josh in arms and gazed in awe at the tiny, wrinkled bundle, falling headlong in love for only the second time in his entire life. This creature was only in the world because of him! It was incredible. A few minutes causal pleasure in a swimming pool had resulted in a gift he’d never be able to place a value on.
His chest swelled with pride, and in a mellow frame of mind, he vowed to make more of an effort to give his wife the attention she so craved. He had true purpose now, and worked like a man possessed to see his conversion project through to a successful completion. He got home earlier, anxious to see Josh, happy to observe that Cassie shared his fascination with their son.
His home life had taken a turn for the better, but the same couldn’t be said for his business concerns. Noah lurched from one disaster to the next as he struggled to keep his head above water: supplies went astray; workmen failed to turn up when they were supposed to; the local planners gave him grief. He started to think that someone was deliberately sabotaging his efforts, someone who bore him a particular grudge.
He hadn’t forgotten about the stranger who’d bid against him at auction, but the only person he could think of with reasons to resent him, other than Mrs. Turner or Ryan Watts, was Graham Spiller. If Noah’s business failed perhaps that might persuade Cassie to view Noah as a lost cause, and Graham would willingly come to her rescue. Spiller would know exactly how to make life difficult for Noah.
Suspecting that Cassie was innocently feeding him information, Noah mentioned to her that there was a four-story house coming up for auction that he really wanted to get his hands on. He even told her how high he was prepared to bid for it.
Noah did want the house, but not as badly as he made out, and it certainly wasn’t worth as much to him as he’d implied. When he saw the same stranger at the auction, not bidding on anything until Noah’s house came under the hammer, he was filled with grim satisfaction. Such coincidences just didn’t occur in real life. Other bidders dropped out quickly until it was just Noah and Graham’s stooge. Noah pushed the price up as far as he was prepared to go, showing an enthusiasm that didn’t usually have any place on his face in an auction hall. But it worked. His opponent fell for his ruse and made a higher bid. His expression was almost comical when Noah sadly shook his head, shooting a smile at his stunned competitor as he walked away.
The following day Noah called at Graham’s office without an appointment, deliberately dressed in plaster-spattered work clothes. Graham’s secretary said she wasn’t sure if he was available, but Noah grinned and said he’d wait, suspecting that Graham would see him eventually simply to satisfy his curiosity. He was made to wait for half an hour, but he’d expected that, pulled a book from his back pocket and lost himself in the litigious world of John Grisham.
“What can I do for you?” Graham asked, not looking up from the papers he was studying when Noah was finally ushered into his office.
“Well, it’s probably more a case of what I can do for you.” Noah cocked his head to one side, enjoying the moment. “I’ll relieve you of that property you got stuck with at auction yesterday, but only for the amount of my final bid.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He sounded genuinely perplexed, but the telltale flush creeping up his cheeks gave him away.
“You’ve made the mistake of underestimating me.” Noah shrugged. “But don’t feel bad about that. You’re not the first and almost certainly won’t be the last. I don’t care about the house particularly, but I also don’t think you intended to get stuck with it. Anyway, it’s up to you. You have twenty-four hours to decide if you want to off-load it, and then my offer’s withdrawn. But,” he added, cutting Graham off as he attempted to say something, “if I have any more trouble with the building inspectors, or the planners, or any other god-damned figure of authority you think you can influence against me, I’ll make damned sure everyone knows who’s really responsible for my misfortunes. So my advice is that you tell your buddies to back off.”
“Even if I knew what you’re talking about,” Graham said, his expression one of unmitigated loathing, “what can you possibly do to damage me?”
“Not you, but your reputation. Mud sticks. All I have to do is start a whispering campaign about your unreliability and no one will bring their business to you. Don’t forget that you’ve got some healthy competition from other solicitors in Colebrook now.”
“You couldn’t do that,” he said, his voice no longer quite so arrogant. “No one would believe your word against mine.”
“Prepared to put that to the test, are you?” Noah leveled a steady glare on his nemesis’s face. “Thought not,” he said when Graham was the first to drop his eyes. “Twenty-three-and-three-quarter hours left,” Noah pointed out, consulting his watch as he turned toward the door. “Oh and, naturally, you’ll stand the legal fees to transfer the auctioned property to me.”
Graham rolled over like a puppy, ungraciously selling him the house and calling off his campaign of interference. Since then an uneasy truce had reigned between them.
Shortly after the birth of his son, encouraged by Kitty, Noah had branched out into building from scratch. The site by the river that he and Maxine had favored was released for real estate development. If it had to be defiled, Noah didn’t trust anyone else to develop it without completely destroying the landscape and all his precious memories with it. Roping in more investors, he purchased the land and built twelve up-market duplex flats, the design of which won him wide acclaim, and his reputation was made.
Colebrook was changing, expanding to accommodate an increasing population, but the town planners were strict, and it retained an image of gracious rural living. It attracted further businesses to cope with the additional demands of the populace, and two new firms of solicitors sprang up.
Graham and his father could no longer rely upon their long-established respectability to gain clientele, and had to aggressively tout for business, just like everyone else. It soon became apparent to Noah that Graham wanted his business. The haughty disdain of the early days had been replaced with outright obsequiousness, which amused Noah. When Graham’s charm offensive failed to bear fruit, he asked Noah outright one day what he could do to attract his business away from his current solicitors. Noah roared with laughter and told him to fuck off.
It was when Noah branched out into construction that Cassie’s innate greed blossomed. She’d always wanted more material comforts than Noah could provide her with, and it had caused endless friction between them, as did her inability to properly run their family life. He just thanked God that they only had two children. She’d been an ideal mother to start with, but when the reality of her situation didn’t match up to her expectations, she quickly lost interest in her family. Numerous times Noah came home from work to find someone babysitting and no signs of any dinner being prepared for him.
Immersed in thought it took Noah a moment to realize a new email had sprung up in his in-box. His heart lifted when he saw that it was from Maxine. She must be having trouble sleeping, too. Burning with anticipation he opened it immediately and read her words three times in rapid succession.
You’re forgetting that the English aristocracy was supremely arrogant. It wouldn’t have sat comfortably with them to make too much effort to search for him, thereby admitting that a French pirate was capable of outwitting them. And as for the pirate’s literary aspirations, why is that so strange? Do you imagine they were only capable of rape and pillage?
I admire DduM’s imagination. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that although happily married she’s widely acknowledged to have had lesbian tendencies, too. Those experiences probably broadened her mind! M
Noah was euphoric. She’d answered him! She’d kept her response short and focused entirely on literature, but he didn’t care about that. She hadn’t completely forgotten him, and that’s all that mattered. Feeling as though he could conquer the world, he immediately cranked out a reply.
Blimey, I didn’t know about her sexuality, but you’re right, it explains a lot. I’d be intrigued to learn more. Which of hers should I read next? He wanted to say more, so much more that had nothing to do with literature, but knew better than to push his luck and restrained himself by merely signing off with, N. xx.
It only took her one day to reply this time. Try The House on the Strand and see what you make of her take on hallucinatory drugs. The woman sure had vision! Perhaps it will strike a chord and bring back memories of your own misspent youth.
Noah bought a copy of the book the next morning and, for the first time ever, put something else before his precious work. He locked himself in his office, astonished his receptionist by telling her to hold all his calls, and read it from cover to cover before he left for home. He replied to her that night.
Glad you didn’t suggest that I read Rebecca. Tried it once and thought the new Mrs. deWinter was a bit of a drip. Liked this one much better. Just goes to show there’s nothing under the sun that hasn’t been done before.
Without stopping to think, he added another paragraph. How are you, Max? Are you happy? Do you ever think of me? N. xx
She responded by return. Yellow card, Noah! You forfeited the right to ask personal questions twelve years ago. Don’t do it again! I’ll talk to you about literature, but nothing else.
Damn, he’d pushed her too far. He composed a suitably contrite response, and went to bed with a smile on his face.
Chapter Fourteen
More rumors circulated about forthcoming changes at Metropolitan Pharmaceuticals, so when John set Maxine and McFee another challenge, she suspected that whoever came out on top would get that promotion. She was becoming more disillusioned by the day with big corporations and the male culture that dominated her working world. It was no longer her size that was being held against her, but her sex, and she was tired of constantly watching her back, fighting battles she didn’t know how to win.
John had given them the three days he was spending in meetings in Manchester to write a rebuttal to the writ he’d given them. Maxine worked feverishly on her response and completed it in two. When she knew that McFee was safely out of the way, she took Poppy out to lunch and put a proposition to her.
Poppy was now thoroughly disillusioned with McFee. He’d dated her a couple of times, got what he wanted, and then dumped her. Now he treated her with casual off-handedness, rubbing salt into her still raw wounds by expecting her to field the calls from his myriad girlfriends. Maxine intended to use Poppy’s new found dislike of McFee to help her exact revenge. Satisfied that Poppy knew what to do, Maxine swung into action that afternoon. She wandered up to Poppy’s desk and, in a voice loud enough to carry to McFee, asked her to type three copies of her rebuttal and bind them in plastic folders.
“I’d like to leave one on John’s desk so he sees it first thing in the morning,” she told her. “I’m off to a meeting upstairs now, and probably won’t be back this afternoon.”
As arranged, Poppy called her at her flat that evening. “He fell for it!” she cried with malicious glee.
“What a surprise!” Maxine rolled her eyes. “What did he do?”
“I can’t believe his gall! He wandered out not two minutes after you’d gone and told me I looked nice. Nice! I ask you, what a nerve, when he’s barely spared me the time of day since—”
“And?” Maxine prompted.
“Well, he suggested we go out again sometime, and I pretended to be excited about the prospect of another date with the rat. I’d left your rebuttal where he could see it, and he picked it up and flipped through it.” Poppy’s voice rose with indignation. “Then he calmly suggested that I put his name on your report, just as you predicted he would. How did you know?”
Maxine almost smiled. “Because he lacks imagination. Besides, he’d never have written a decent rebuttal on his own, and it wouldn’t occur to him that you’re not still besotted and ready to help him. What happened next?”
“Well, I checked with John’s secretary and found out that he had a lunch meeting at his hotel in Manchester, after which he’d be checking out and getting the two o’clock train back. I helpfully shared that information with McFee, and he suggested that I fax his rebuttal to the hotel so that John could study it on the train coming back.”
“And did John get it?”
“Oh yes, the cheating skunk even had me call and make sure. Honestly, I—”
Maxine thanked Poppy, tuned out of her colorful harangue and savored the prospect of the day to come.
John’s first action when he arrived at work the next morning was to call them both into his office. Maxine’s beautifully presented rebuttal was sitting in the center of his otherwise clear desk. McFee looked at it, unable to hide his smug expression.
“Afraid McFee beat you to it again, Maxine,” John said, not sounding at all regretful.
“Really.” She tried to look upset. “Ah well, the best man won, I suppose.” They regarded her with identical expressions of surprise. “Can I look at his rebuttal to see where I slipped up? I might learn something.”
John handed it over without a word. “How long did it take you to convince Poppy to let you copy mine?” she asked Lance conversationally.
“Oh please, not that again. You really must learn to be more gracious in defeat, Maxine.”
Maxine quirked a brow, enjoying herself. “Have you looked at your email yet, John?”
“No, I’ve not had a chance. Haven’t had an opportunity to study McFee’s rebuttal in detail yet either, but at first glance it appears sound.”
