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‘I don’t know what’s going on here. But if this is because of some gossip you’ve heard about me…’ He trailed off. ‘You shouldn’t listen to it, if so.’
Liz stared at Ben, not quite believing the words that were coming out of his mouth.
‘What? Are you kidding me?’ she yelled, anger finally coming to her aid. She’d read somewhere once that anger was the protector of hurt, and she understood that now. Liz was hurting badly, but she was almost grateful for the surge of anger that overtook her now because it could be the thing that protected her when she most needed it.
Ben took a step back, obviously surprised at her sudden shout.
‘All right. I guess it isn’t.’ He looked shocked.
‘No. It isn’t.’ Liz’s voice was staccato. ‘If you must know, since this is so important to you and you can’t just leave it alone and leave me alone: Being here, at the hotel, is really hard for me. Okay? because last year, when I came, I got home and I had a miscarriage.’ Her voice wavered on the last few words; it was difficult to say them. ‘So, no. I don’t give a toss about you and whatever random gossip I may or may not have heard about you. And the very fact that you think I would be upset about that as opposed to something real and important, like the loss of an actual life, just shows me exactly what kind of man you are.’
Liz tried to slam the door, but Ben strode through it and closed it from the inside.
‘I’m not leaving after you’ve said that. Liz, listen to me. I’m so sorry.’ He looked terrified, but Liz’s anger was in full swing. She didn’t want to stop being angry, because she knew that sadness waited for her like a nightmare, like a monster, threatening in the darkness.
‘No. Go away,’ she yelled, but she could feel the sadness coming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. ‘Please. I can’t…’
‘Oh, Liz.’ Ben wrapped her in his arms and held her more tightly than she thought she’d ever been held. ‘Liz. I’m so sorry.’
She cried then: big, screaming gulps of pain that felt like they swallowed all the air in the room. This was the type of behaviour that Paul might have foundtoo much, perhaps; Liz rarely showed her emotions, but when she did, they could be stormy.
But rather than leave her, Ben held her and didn’t let go.
Liz sobbed her heart out. She felt herself letting go of all the hurt she had held onto for all this time. It was like every single terrible analogy she’d ever heard of: the floodgates opening, water crashing through a dam, tsunamis, waves crashing onto beaches. But it was true. There was a relief in letting go of her emotions, finally, at last, in the safety of Ben’s arms. She knew, because he’d told her, that Ben didn’t think she was too much. He admired her strength, and she was grateful for that.
After some moments, her breathing started to slow, and she could feel her body relaxing. Instinctively, she leaned into him. There was something indescribable about his physical presence – something so soothing. Familiar, even, though they were only work colleagues.
Ben handed her a tissue from his pocket, but his grip around her stayed firm.
‘Thank you,’ she sniffled, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Ben murmured, his voice resonating in his chest, where her head still rested. ‘I’m just glad I was here for you. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through, and I’m so sorry.’
She frowned, thinking of what Simon had told her about Ben’s ex-wife. It just didn’t make sense that Ben would turn his own pregnant wife out on her ear and be so sweet to Liz about her failed pregnancy. Okay, she wasn’t his wife. Maybe it was different.
She had a sudden thought. Was Ben faking all this sympathy? Maybe he was just being polite because he wanted to keep Liz sweet ahead of the big presentation tomorrow. It was important for the company, after all.
‘Ben. I don’t understand you.’ She untangled herself from his embrace. ‘How can you be like this with me? When you left your own wife when she was pregnant? Don’t you understand what a vulnerable time it is for a woman? I just…’ She shook her head. ‘If you’re comforting me because you’re worried I’ll crack up at the presentation, you don’t have to. I’m a pro, okay? You can save your pretences.’ She went to the hotel door and held it open.
Ben stared at her for a long moment.
‘If that’s really what you think of me, then you don’t deserve an explanation. I’ll see you in the conference room tomorrow,’ he said, coldly, as he walked out. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a professional too.’
He slammed the hotel door behind him, and Liz heard him stalk off down the corridor.
She rested her head against the door, her heart heavy.
Why did she feel like she’d just made a terrible mistake?
THIRTY-SEVEN
‘According to a recent study, about forty percent of whisky drinkers are women.’ Liz began her presentation to the room of hundreds of representatives of the beverage industry: boutique gin makers, sales reps, master whisky distillers, master tasters, journalists for food and drink magazines and buyers for all of the big chains looked at her expectantly from the floor.
‘For a long time, it was considered taboo for women to consume alcohol at all, but we’ve come a long way from those rather… limiting views,’ she added, smiling, and was relieved to hear a few chuckles from the audience. ‘Marketing efforts are no longer just focused on men, and that’s something we’re really running with at Loch Cameron Distillery. Women hold the purchasing power; we are the ones driving the whisky category, and that’s what’s inspired our new range: Old Maids.’
Liz clicked onto the slide that showcased the new range of whiskies. She was so happy with the way that the design for the new labels, boxes and bottles had worked out: they looked fantastic. The designer had managed to change Felicity Black over to Gretchen Ross without too much effort, also.
‘Muriel Peabody, Elspeth Anderson, Gretchen Ross and Evelyn McCallister.’ She read the now-familiar names aloud, winking at Gretchen who sat in the first row. ‘Four women that have been integral to Loch Cameron’s present and past.’
