Spite ran through her like an electric current. ‘I’m not asking you to risk your perfect marriage,’ she spat at him. ‘I haven’t asked you for anything.’
‘I know,’ he said, studying her face. ‘But if you want to go back, then I will go with you,’ he added, and there was fire in his eyes.
The bitterness ebbed in her as fast as it flowed. She looked down. ‘Thank you.’
Alex reached across and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She had to stop herself from leaning into the pressure of his fingers. ‘It will be okay, Amy. You can do this. I think maybe you should do this. I think perhaps I’ve come back into your life for this.’
She nodded, looking down at his chest. ‘I know,’ she said as he pulled her close. She wanted so much to believe in his words. She was praying that now he was back with her, Alex could make it all right.
An avalanche of decisions and deliberations came crashing over her, and she realised she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. What was she thinking? But she had no choice now. She had to go to Australia. If she backed out, then Alex would disappear from her life again.
Alex began to tell her that he was trying to reshuffle his client commitments for the next few weeks, and some were being more cooperative than others. He spoke anecdotally, but she felt guilty. It hadn’t really registered or concerned her at all that he was risking his marriage for her, as a large part of her thought that he shouldn’t be married in the first place. But causing his business to go on the slide suddenly felt like too much to ask.
‘Alex, you don’t have to -’ she began.
‘Amy, stop it. I’m coming.’ His voice was firm. Then he paused, and she could tell he had something more he wanted to say to her by the stiffness of his shoulders and the set of his jaw. He took a deep breath. ‘Amy… your dad…’
‘Is dead,’ she said in a monotone. She put down a biscuit she had been nibbling on, which seemed suddenly dry and stale.
Alex nodded. ‘I went to his funeral,’ he murmured. ‘I was hoping you would be there.’
‘I couldn’t…’ she said, staring at the wall behind his head.
‘I know. I spoke to your mum. She was very upset.’
Her gaze moved to meet his. ‘Al, what is this? Are you trying to give me a guilt trip? You don’t need to, okay? I already feel responsible. If it hadn’t happened, if I hadn’t run away, caused him so much stress…’
Alex looked alarmed, and she saw the knife edge he was on, trying to talk to her yet worried she might snap at any second.
‘No, no, that wasn’t what I meant. I just -’
She held her hand up. ‘I just couldn’t, okay? I hope perhaps Mum understands now – now it was so long ago. At the time it was too… difficult for me.’
‘Of course,’ Alex nodded, and his hand moved to cover hers. She let it, but her eyes slid away from his, down to her lap. Because she couldn’t deny it any longer – she was still lying to him. He thought he knew everything now but he had barely scratched the surface. And what would he think of her when he did?
66
‘Sit down, Mark,’ Neil said from behind the desk as Mark appeared at his office door. He waved a hand in the direction of a vacant chair.
Mark sat.
‘Now then,’ Neil began, leaning forward. ‘You two give me a rundown of exactly how far you’ve got with the Abbott research.’
Mark stared at his yellow legal pad uncomfortably, waiting to see if Chloe would speak first, but she appeared to be deferring to him.
‘Anytime now would be good,’ Neil said, leaning back and steepling his fingers.
Mark looked up. ‘I’ve been going over everything,’ he said. ‘And I’ve found a few interesting and relevant precedents. When I’ve finished I’ll draw up a memo -’
Neil held up a hand. ‘The time for memos has long passed, Mark.’ He leaned forward again, and this time there was menace in it. ‘Do you realise,’ he growled, looking between the two of them, ‘that we begin in two weeks? It is undoubtedly the biggest case we have ever had in this office and we are woefully – WOEFULLY – under-prepared.’
Mark surreptitiously looked at Chloe, wishing she would join in. She glanced at both of them, then back to the files on her lap. Mark was alarmed to see her eyes were moist. Oh god, Chloe, don’t cry. Not in the office.
Mark’s gaze moved back to Neil, unsure of what to do next, but to his surprise found that Neil was distracted, staring over Mark’s head, his face alarmed. Mark barely had time to turn around before he registered, with dismay, a booming voice.
‘Not disturbing anything, am I?’ it said, and then there was a showy and rather irrelevant rat-a-tat on the office door.
There stood Henry, last seen semicomatose on Mark’s bed, where he’d left him an hour earlier.
At first glance, Mark thought it might have been worse. Henry was decked out in what appeared to be one of Mark’s pinstriped suits, with a navy tie neatly tucked in. But his father hadn’t shaved. And the waft of alcohol hit Mark and disturbed his recently breakfast-lined stomach at the same time that he registered Henry hadn’t done up the button of his trousers, which were straining badly at the extra bulk of him, plus he was only wearing one shoe.
Mark had a horrible flashback to the only time his father had come to school sports day, when he had run second in the egg-and-spoon race and caused a huge fuss afterwards, saying that the winner had made a false start and demanding a rematch. That had been excruciating, and it was about one hundred times less embarrassing than this.
He turned briefly back to the others, as if looking for help, but Neil appeared dumbstruck, and Chloe’s mouth was slightly open, though her face showed both concern and surprise.
There was nothing else for it. Mark sprang into action, jumping out of his chair and heading towards the door. ‘Dad…’
‘Not now, Mark,’ Henry said grumpily, and sidestepped him. ‘What are you fellows discussing?’ He glanced at the contents of Neil’s desk. ‘Ah, Abbott. Tricky one. Maybe I can help?’ And he sat down with a thump in the chair Mark had just vacated.
Mark looked at Neil, who was slowly recovering himself. ‘Henry,’ Neil said. ‘Would you like some water?’
‘I’ll get it,’ Chloe interjected, and rushed out before anyone could say anything.
Henry looked between Mark and Neil. ‘Good god, what’s wrong with you two? You look like a pair of imbeciles.’ He guffawed, with no apparent awareness that the other two men remained stony-faced.
‘Excuse me a second, Henry,’ Neil said. He gave Mark a studied look as he walked past him, and Mark watched through the open door as Neil bent and murmured into his secretary’s ear, her glance behind confirming the topic of their discussion.
Mark looked at his father. ‘Dad, where’s your shoe?’
Henry peered down at his feet. ‘It’s…’ He lifted up his leg and wiggled his toes beneath his sock. ‘I thought it was…’ he mumbled, and looked around the floor and under the desk as though it had just jumped off his foot and hidden itself nearby.
Neil spoke from the doorway. ‘Mark. A word?’
Henry was down on his hands and knees now, searching for his missing shoe. ‘Sounds like you’re in trouble,’ he growled from the floor. ‘What have you done now?’
Mark didn’t reply and moved over to the doorway, his eyes not daring to leave his father so he could intercede in whichever embarrassing move Henry decided upon next.
‘Della is ordering a taxi,’ Neil hissed. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I wish I knew,’ Mark replied, casting an uneasy glance in Neil’s direction. ‘He’s been like this all weekend.’
Neil grimaced. ‘You’re going to have to take him home.’ He turned to look at Mark. ‘Are you sure you’re up for this workload at the moment, all things considered?’