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‘It’s the silliest thing,’ I begin, the ice in my voice impossible for even Lee to ignore, ‘but you resigning with immediate effect to join our main competitor an hour after they beat us to a contract you were negotiating has left a nasty taste in the mouths of a few people at Orchestra.’
‘I did nothing wrong.’ He’s on the defensive, I can tell. ‘People change jobs all the time and it’s normal to leave immediately if you’re joining a competitor.’
‘They’re saying you deliberately did something to ensure the contract went to Harmony. Did you?’
‘Of course I didn’t!’
‘Here’s the thing, though. They don’t believe that. They’re going through your laptop with a fine-tooth comb to see if they can find any evidence you weren’t putting 100 per cent into the Orchestra bid.’
‘They can’t touch me.’ Is it me, or does his defiant tone have a hint of uncertainty in it? A niggle of doubt is forming in my mind. He was surprisingly relaxed the night before the bid. Was it because he knew Orchestra wasn’t going to win?
‘I don’t really care whether they can or they can’t,’ I say. ‘What I care about is them coming after me.’
‘I don’t get it. What’s it got to do with you?’
‘Let’s see. I worked with you on the bid, I’m your girlfriend and we live together. Somehow, from all of that, they assumed I might know something about it and they’ve taken away my laptop and suspended me while they investigate whether I’m up to my neck in this with you.’
‘Did you tell them we were together?’
‘Of course not!’ I snarl at him. ‘They figured it out from our holiday patterns. They’ve probably known for ages. Anyway, because of that and the little midnight flit that you never bothered to tell me about – thanks for that, it really helps me to love and trust you – I’m in a lot of trouble. So yeah, I’m a little bit upset.’
‘Shit, sorry. It never occurred to me that they’d think you had anything to do with it. How long have they suspended you for?’
‘Until further notice.’
‘But you haven’t done anything wrong!’
‘I know that, fuckwit, but they don’t, do they? Can you blame them for being suspicious?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he blusters. ‘They’ll go through your computer, find nothing, and that will be that. In the meantime, you’ve got some extra holiday time, think of it like that. They haven’t stopped your pay, have they?’
‘No.’
‘Phew. The rent on the flat is due in a few days, so that could have been awkward. So, you’ve got some time off at their expense. I’d call that a bit of a win, myself.’
‘Are you for real? You think I’m just going to be able to swan about as if I’m on holiday without a care in the world, while they go through my laptop in forensic detail, looking for the faintest whiff of malpractice so they can sack me? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me what you were doing?’
There’s a pause before he answers, and his voice is distant when he finally replies.
‘What difference would it have made?’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Think about it. What difference would it have made if I’d told you at the beginning? I’m sorry they’ve suspended you, I really am, but you knowing earlier wouldn’t have changed anything.’
‘You should have told me because I’m your bloody girlfriend, and that’s the kind of things couples tell each other!’
‘But it’s nothing to do with you. I know you’re my girlfriend and everything, but the way I see it is that I have my work life and my personal life. You’re part of my personal life but, as long as I pay my share of the bills and stuff, I don’t think my work is any of your business, do you? Listen, I’ve got to go. Think about what I’ve said, yeah? You haven’t done anything wrong and they’ll find that out soon enough. In the meantime, make the most of your time off. Why don’t you go and visit your sister for a few days? I’ll be back on Friday and we can have a proper catch-up then. I’ll book that Italian place you like, OK? Love you.’
And, with that, he’s gone. I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at my phone in disbelief, but I feel like I’ve just been talking to a complete stranger. I unlock the phone a couple of times and my finger hovers over his number, but I’m so shocked by his attitude that I don’t have any rational words to say to him. In the end, I plug the phone into its charger and top my wine glass right up to the rim.
* * *
The alarm goes off at six the next morning, and I reach across automatically to shove Lee awake so he can go into the shower before me in the first part of our carefully choreographed morning routine. His absence brings the events of the previous day crashing in, and it dawns on me that I have no reason to get up, so I turn onto my back in the semi-darkness and stare at the ceiling. The good news is that I don’t have a hangover, despite nearly finishing the bottle of wine last night. I played out all sorts of scenarios in my head as I stared blankly at the TV. There were some where I lost my job and some where I was welcomed back with open arms, but what surprised me were the number that involved me telling Lee we were finished. The dismissive way he said, ‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ as if I were nothing more than a cameo in the great story of his life, was like a slap in the face and I’m still smarting this morning. What he’s shown me is that, when he wants something, he’ll think nothing of riding roughshod over everyone, including me, to get it. That’s a really ugly trait in a person, and I’m not sure I want to be with someone like that. I knew he had a ruthless streak – he’s never hidden it – but this is the first time it’s been turned on me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
My body is too conditioned to my normal routine to make going back to sleep a possibility so, after contemplating how I feel about Lee for a while, and coming to broadly negative conclusions, I get up and wander out to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. It’s like I’m seeing the flat with new eyes this morning, and I realise for the first time how little of me there is in it. The colour scheme is all muted creams and greys, with none of the bright colours that I would naturally choose. The big, squashy, leather sofas in front of the widescreen TV are pure bachelor pad. The collection of mismatched mugs and crockery that I grew up with and loved as a child would look horrendously out of place among the sleek and sterile designer crockery that Lee insisted on.
You don’t belong here, the flat appears to be whispering to me, and I shake my head to shut out the new doubts that are trying to force their way in. I decide to take advantage of my (hopefully) temporary status as a woman of leisure by running a long, hot bath and revelling in a good soak. I’ll shave my legs and generally give myself a good pampering. That should use up a chunk of the morning, and maybe I’ll have a flash of inspiration on how to fill the rest of the day.
