No. I can’t think about that.
Hilary is looking a little stressed as I approach.
“Got your statement?” she says. “Feeling prepared?”
“All set.” I take out the folded sheet of paper. “Hilary, this is Nathaniel.”
Hilary’s eyes run over him without interest. “Hello,” she says. “Now, Samantha, let’s just run over the order again. You read your statement, then questions, then photos. We’ll start in about three minutes. The team are just distributing press packs—” Suddenly she peers more closely at me. “What happened to your makeup?”
“Um … I was just saying good-bye to someone,” I say apologetically. “It’s not too bad, is it?”
“We’ll have to redo it.” Her voice is jerky with annoyance. “This really is all I need.” She strides away, calling to one of her assistants.
Three more minutes. Three minutes before my old life begins again.
“So … I’ll be back for Eamonn’s party,” I say, still clutching Nathaniel’s hand. “It’s only a few days away. I’ll catch the train down on Friday night, spend the weekend—”
“No, you won’t,” chips in Guy, shaking chocolate onto a cappuccino. He looks up. “You’ll be in Hong Kong.”
“What?” I say stupidly.
“Samatron are delighted you’re back and they’ve asked for you on this merger. We’re flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. Has no one told you?”
“No,” I say, taken aback. “No one’s even mentioned it.”
Guy shrugs. “I thought you knew. Five days in Hong Kong and then on to Singapore. You and I are going to be wooing some new clients.” He takes a sip of coffee. “You need to start pulling in business, Samantha Sweeting, equity partner. Can’t rest on your laurels.”
I haven’t even started the job yet. And they’re already talking about resting on my laurels?
“So … when will we be back?”
Guy shrugs. “Couple of weeks?”
“Samantha!” says Elldridge, coming up. “Has Guy mentioned, we want you on a corporate shooting weekend in September? Up in Scotland; should be fun.”
“Right. Um, yes, that sounds great.” I rub my nose. “The only thing is, I’m trying to keep some weekends free … keep a bit of balance in my life …”
Elldridge looks puzzled.
“You’ve had your break, Samantha,” he says. “Now it’s back to work. And I must talk to you about New York.” He pats me on the shoulder and turns to the girl manning the coffee machine. “Another espresso, please.”
“Realistically, I’d say you’re not going to have a free weekend till Christmas,” puts in Guy. “I did warn you.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and moves away to talk to Hilary.
There’s silence. I don’t know what to say. Everything’s moving too fast. I thought it would be different this time. I thought I’d have more control.
“Christmas,” echoes Nathaniel at last, looking thunderstruck.
“No,” I say at once. “He’s exaggerating. It won’t be that bad. I’ll rearrange things.” I rub my brow. “Look, Nathaniel, I’ll be back before Christmas. I promise. Things might be busy—but I’ll do it somehow. Whatever it takes.”
He flinches at my words. “Don’t turn it into a duty.”
“Duty?” I stare at him. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Two minutes!” Hilary comes bustling up with the makeup artist, but I ignore her.
“Nathaniel—”
“Samantha!” snaps Hilary, trying to pull me away. “You really don’t have time for this!”
“You should go.” Nathaniel gestures with his head. “You’re busy.”
This is awful. It feels like everything is disintegrating between us.
“Nathaniel, just tell me.” My voice trembles. “Tell me before I go. That day in the farmhouse—what did you say to me?”
Nathaniel looks at me for a long moment, then something in his eyes seems to close up.
“It was long and boring and badly put.” He turns away with a half shrug.
“Please do something with those smudges!” Hilary is saying. “Could you please move?” she adds sharply to Nathaniel.
“I’ll get out of your way.” Nathaniel lets go of my hand and retreats before I can say anything.
“You’re not in my way!” I call after him, but I’m not sure he hears.
As the makeup artist begins her work, my mind is spinning so fast I feel faint. Suddenly all my certainty has vanished. Am I doing the right thing?
Oh, God. What is wrong with me?
“Close, please.” The makeup artist is brushing at my eyelids. “Now open …”
I open my eyes to see Nathaniel and Guy standing together, some way away. Guy’s talking and Nathaniel is listening, his face taut. I feel a sudden stab of unease. What’s Guy saying?
“Close again,” says the makeup artist. Reluctantly I close my eyes and feel her brushing yet more shadow on. For God’s sake. Hasn’t she finished? Does it matter what I look like?
At last she withdraws her brush. “Open.”
I open my eyes to see Guy standing in the same spot, a few yards away. But Nathaniel’s vanished. Where’s he gone?
“Put your lips together …” the makeup artist instructs, producing a lipstick brush.
My eyes are darting in panic around the crowded drive, looking for Nathaniel. I need him. I need to talk to him before this press conference goes ahead.
“Ready for your big moment? Got your statement?” Hilary is upon me again, smelling of freshly applied scent. “That looks a lot better! Chin up!” She taps my chin so sharply I wince. “Any last-minute questions?”
“Um … yes,” I say desperately. “I was just wondering … could we possibly put it off for a little bit? Just a few minutes.”
Hilary’s face freezes.
“What?” she says at last. I have a dreadful feeling she’s going to explode.
“I feel a bit … confused. I need more time to think.…” I trail off at Hilary’s expression.
She comes toward me and brings her face very close to mine. She’s still smiling, but her eyes are snapping and her nostrils flared and white. I take a step back, quailing, but she grabs my shoulders so hard I can feel her nails digging into my flesh.
“Samantha,” she hisses. “You will go out there, you will read your statement, and you will say Carter Spink is the best law firm in the world. And if you don’t—I will kill you.”
I think she’s serious.
“We’re all confused, Samantha. We all need more time to think. That’s life.” She gives me a little shake. “Get over it.” She breathes out sharply and smooths down her suit. “Right! I’m going to announce you.”
She marches onto the lawn. I just stand there, shaking.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press!” Hilary’s voice is blaring through the microphone. “I’m delighted to welcome you all here this morning.”
Suddenly I spot Guy, helping himself to a mineral water. “Guy!” I call urgently. “Guy! Where’s Nathaniel?”
“I have no idea,” says Guy insouciantly.
“What did you say to him? When you were talking just now?”
“I didn’t have to say much,” Guy replies. “He could tell the way the wind was blowing.”
“What do you mean?” I feel like I’ve missed something. “The wind wasn’t blowing any way.”
“Samantha, don’t be naive.” Guy takes a swig of water. “He’s a grown man. He understands.”
“… our newest partner at Carter Spink, Samantha Sweeting!” Hilary’s voice and the applause breaking out barely touch my consciousness.
“Understands what?” I say in horror. “What did you say?”
“Samantha!” Hilary interrupts with a sweetly savage smile. “We’re all waiting! Lots of busy people!” She grabs my hand with an iron grip and drags me with surprising force onto the grass. “Off you go! Enjoy!” She gives me a sh
arp dig in the back and walks away.
I’m stranded in front of the nation’s press.
“Move it!” Hilary’s tense undertone makes me jump. I feel like I’m on a conveyor belt. The only way is forward.
With wobbling legs I make my way into the middle of the lawn, where a microphone has been set up on a stand. The sun is glinting off all the camera lenses and I feel half blinded. I search the crowd as best I can for Nathaniel, but I can’t spot him anywhere. Trish is standing a few yards away to my right, in a fuchsia pink suit, and waves frantically. Beside her, Eddie is holding a camcorder.
Slowly I unfold my statement and smooth it down.
“Good afternoon,” I say into the microphone, my voice stilted. “I am delighted to be able to share my exciting news with you. After being made a wonderful offer by Carter Spink, I will be returning to the firm today as a partner. Needless to say … I’m thrilled.”
Somehow I can’t make my voice sound thrilled. The words feel empty as I say them.
“I have been overwhelmed by the warmth and generosity of the Carter Spink welcome,” I continue hesitantly, “and am honored to be joining such a prestigious partnership of …”
I’m still seeking out Nathaniel. I can’t concentrate on what I’m saying.
“Talent and excellence!” snaps Hilary from the sidelines.
“Um … yes.” I find my place on the sheet. “Talent. And excellence.”
A titter goes through the crowd of journalists. I’m not doing a very good job here.
“Carter Spink’s quality of service is … um … second to none,” I continue, trying to sound convincing.
“Better quality than the toilets you used to clean?” calls out a journalist with ruddy cheeks.
“We are not taking questions at this stage!” Hilary comes out crossly onto the lawn. “And we are taking no questions on the subject of toilets, bathrooms, or any other form of sanitary ware. Samantha, carry on.”
“Unspeakable, were they?” shouts the ruddy-cheeked guy with a guffaw of laughter.
“Samantha, carry on,” spits Hilary, looking livid.
“They certainly were not unspeakable!” Trish comes striding onto the lawn, her fuchsia heels sinking into the grass. “I will not have my toilets maligned! They’re all Royal Doulton. They’re Royal Doulton,” she repeats into the microphone. “Highest quality. You’re doing very well, Samantha!” She pats me on the shoulder.
All the journalists are laughing by now. Hilary’s face is puce.
“Excuse me,” she says to Trish with suppressed fury. “We are in the middle of a press conference here. Could you please leave?”
“Mrs. Geiger, have you seen Nathaniel?” I look desperately around the crowd for the millionth time. “He’s disappeared.”
“Who’s Nathaniel?” asks one of the journalists.
“He’s the gardener,” puts in the ruddy-faced guy. “Lover boy. So is that all over?” he adds to me.
“No!” I say, stung. “We’re going to keep the relationship going.”
“How you going to do that, then?”
I can sense a fresh interest stirring in the crowd of journalists.
“We just will, OK?” Suddenly, I feel near tears.
“Samantha,” says Hilary furiously. “Please get back to the official statement!” She pushes Trish away from the microphone.
“Don’t you touch me!” shrills Trish. “I’ll sue. Samantha Sweeting is my lawyer, you know.”
“Oy, Samantha! What does Nathaniel think about you going back to London?” shouts someone.
“Have you put your career over love?” chimes in a bright-faced girl.
“No!” I say desperately. “I just … I need to talk to him. Where is he? Guy!” I suddenly spot Guy at the side of the lawn. “Where did he go? What did you say to him?” I hurry toward him over the grass, almost tripping. “You have to tell me. What did you say?”
“I advised him to keep his dignity.” Guy gives an arrogant shrug. “To be honest, I told the guy the truth. You won’t be back.”
“How dare you?” I gasp in fury. “How dare you say that? I will be back! And he can come to London—”
“Oh, please.” Guy raises his eyes. “He doesn’t want to hang around like some sad bastard, getting in your way, embarrassing you—”
“Embarrassing me?” I stare at Guy, aghast. “Is that what you said to him? Is that why he left?”
“For God’s sake, Samantha, give it a rest,” snaps Guy impatiently. “He’s a gardener.”
My fist acts before I can think. It hits Guy right on the jaw.
I can hear gasps and shouts and cameras snapping all around, but I don’t care. That is the best thing I have ever done.
“Ow! Fuck!” He clasps his face. “What the fuck was that for?”
The journalists are all crowding round now, hurling questions at us, but I ignore them.
“It’s you who embarrass me,” I spit at Guy. “You’re worth nothing compared to him. Nothing.” To my horror I can feel tears coming to my eyes. I have to find Nathaniel. Right now.
“Everything’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Hilary comes thundering across the grass, a blur of pinstripe trouser suit. “Samantha’s a little overwrought today!” She grabs my arm in a vise, her teeth bared in a rictus smile. “Just a friendly disagreement between partners! Samantha is greatly looking forward to the challenges of leading a world-renowned legal team. Aren’t you, Samantha?” Her grip tightens. “Aren’t you, Samantha?”
“I … don’t know,” I say in despair. “I just don’t know. I’m sorry, Hilary.” I wrench my arm out of hers.
Hilary makes a furious swipe for my arm, but I evade her and start running over the grass toward the gates.
“Stop her!” Hilary is yelling to all the PR staff. “Block her way!”
Girls in trouser suits start coming at me from all directions like some kind of SWAT team. Somehow I dodge them. One makes a grab for my jacket and I wriggle out of it. I throw off my high heels too, and pick up my pace, barely wincing at the gravel under my soles. And then I’m out, running down the street, not looking back.
By the time I arrive at the pub my tights have been torn to shreds on the road. My hair has come out of its bun and half fallen down my back, my makeup is swimming in sweat, and my chest is burning with pain.
But I don’t care. I have to find Nathaniel. I have to tell him he’s the most important thing in my life, more important than any job.
I have to tell him I love him.
I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before, why I never said it before. It’s so obvious. It’s so blinding.
“Eamonn!” I call urgently as I approach, and he looks up in surprise from where he’s collecting glasses. “I have to talk to Nathaniel. Is he here?”
“Here?” Eamonn appears lost for words. “Samantha, you’ve missed him. He’s already gone.”
“Gone?” I come to a halt, panting. “Gone where?”
“To look at this business he wants to buy. He left in the car a short while ago.”
“The one in Bingley?” I gulp in relief, still out of breath. “Could you possibly give me a lift there? It’s quite important that I talk to him.”
“That’s not where …” Eamonn rubs his neck, looking awkward. I feel a sudden foreboding. “Samantha—he’s gone to Cornwall.”
Shock slams me in the chest.
“I thought you knew.” Eamonn takes a step forward, shading his eyes against the sun. “He said he might be down there a couple of weeks. I thought he’d have told you.”
“No,” I say, my voice barely working. “He didn’t.”
Suddenly my legs feel like jelly. I sink down onto one of the barrels, my head pounding. He’s gone to Cornwall just like that. Without even saying good-bye. Without even discussing it with me.
“He left a note in case you dropped by.” Eamonn feels in his back pocket and produces an envelope. As he hands it over, his face is crumpled up with distre
ss. “Samantha … I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I manage a smile. “Thanks, Eamonn.” I take the envelope from him and pull out the paper.
S
I think we both know this is the end of the line. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.
Just know that this summer was perfect.
N
Tears are flooding down my cheeks as I read it, over and over. I can’t believe he’s gone. How can he have given up on us? Whatever Guy said to him, whatever he thought. How can he have just left?
We could have made it work. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he feel it, deep down?
I hear a sound and look up to see Guy and a crowd of journalists gathered around me. I hadn’t even noticed.
“Go away,” I say in a muffled voice. “Leave me alone.”
“Samantha,” says Guy, his voice low and conciliatory. “I know you’re hurt. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“I’ll hit you again.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I mean it.”
“Things may seem bad at the moment.” Guy glances at the note. “But you have a fantastic career to get on with.”
I don’t answer. My shoulders are hunched over, my nose is running, and my hair is falling around my face in lacquered strands.
“Be reasonable. You’re not going back to cleaning loos. There’s nothing to keep you here now.” Guy takes a step forward and puts my glossy high-heeled shoes on the table beside me. “Come on, partner. Everyone’s waiting.”
Twenty-six
I feel numb. It really is all over. I’m sitting in a first-class compartment on the express train to London, with the other partners. In a couple of hours we’ll be back. I have a new pair of tights on. My makeup has been repaired. I’ve even given a fresh statement to the press, hastily constructed by Hilary: “Although I will always feel affection for my friends in Lower Ebury, nothing is more exciting and important in my life right now than my career with Carter Spink.”
I was pretty convincing. I even found a smile from somewhere as I shook David Elldridge’s hand. It’s just possible they might print a picture of that, rather than the one of me punching Guy. You never know.