Remember Me? (24 page)

“Jon here.”

“The fish is in the loo!” I hiss. “But I can’t flush it!”

“The sensors should set it off automatically.”

“I know! But they’re not setting anything off! There’s a dead blue fish staring up at me! What am I going to do?”

“It’s fine. Go to the panel next to the bed. You can override it and flush it from there. Hey, Eric! How are you doing?” The phone abruptly cuts off. I hurry over to the bed and locate a flip-down panel set into the wall. A scary digital display blinks back at me and I can’t help a small moan. How can anyone live in a house that’s more complicated than NASA? Why does a house have to be intelligent, anyway? Why can’t it be nice and stupid?

My fingers fumbling, I press Menu, then Override, then Options. I scan down the list. Temperature…Lighting…Where’s Bathroom? Where’s Flush Loo? Do I even have the right panel?

Suddenly I notice another flip-up panel on the other side of the bed. Maybe that’s it. I rush to it, wrench it open, and start jabbing at random. In a minute I’m going to have to scoop the stupid fish out of the water with my bare hands….

A sound draws me up short. It’s a wail. A kind of distant siren. What on earth…

I stop jabbing and look more carefully at the panel I’ve been hitting. It’s flashing words at me in red.
Panic Alert—Secure Space.
A sudden movement from the window attracts my attention and I look up to see a metal grille descending steadily over the glass.

What the—

Frantically I jab again at the panel, but it flashes back at me
Unauthorized,
then returns to
Panic Alert—Secure Space.

Oh…my God. What have I done?

I dart to the door of the bedroom and look down to the space below.

I don’t believe it. It’s mayhem.

The siren is even louder out here. Metal grilles are descending everywhere, over the windows, the paintings, the waterfall. All the rich guests are clinging to each other in the middle of the space like hostages, apart from one portly man who’s trapped next to the waterfall.

“Is it a robbery? Do they have guns?” a woman in a white trouser suit is exclaiming hysterically, wrenching at her hands. “George, swallow my rings!”

“That’s a helicopter!” A gray-haired man is cocking his ear. “Listen! They’re on the roof! We’re sitting targets!”

I’m staring at the scene, my heart hammering, frozen with panic.

“It’s coming from the master bedroom!” shouts one of Eric’s staff, who has been consulting a panel by the fireplace. “Someone’s set off the panic alarm. The police are on their way.”

I’ve ruined the party. Eric will kill me, he’ll
kill
me…

And then, with no warning, the noise stops. The sudden quiet is like the sun coming out.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A voice comes from the stairs, and my head whips around. It’s Jon. He’s holding a remote control, and he glances briefly up at me before addressing the crowd. “We hope you enjoyed our security demonstration. Rest assured, we are not under attack from robbers.”

He pauses, and a few people laugh nervously. Around the room the grilles have already started retracting. “However,” Jon continues, “as all of you know, in London today, security is of prime consideration. Many developments talk about security; we wanted you to see it firsthand. This system is MI5 quality—and it’s here for your protection.”

My legs are so weak with relief, they’re barely holding me up. He’s saved my life.

As he continues talking, I totter back into the bedroom suite and find the blue fish still floating in the loo. I count to three—then plunge my hand in, grab the fish, and, with a shudder, stuff it in my bag. I wash my hands, then head out to see that Eric has taken over from Jon.

“From this adventure you’ll see even more clearly that we at Blue Developments understand you and your concerns better even than you yourselves do,” he’s saying. “You’re not our customers…you’re our
partners
in a perfect lifestyle.” He lifts up his glass. “Enjoy your tours.”

As he steps aside, a relieved babble of chatter and laughter breaks out. I can see the woman in the white trouser suit grabbing three massive diamond rings back from her husband and pushing them back onto her fingers.

I wait a few minutes, then unobtrusively slip down the stairs. I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and take a deep swig. I am never touching any panels again, ever. Or fish. Or loos.

“Sweetie!” Rosalie’s voice makes me jump. She’s wearing a skimpy beaded dress in turquoise, and high feathered shoes. “
Oh
my God. Wasn’t that genius? That’ll make a few diary pieces tomorrow. Everyone’s talking about the state-of-the-art security. You know it cost three hundred grand? Just for the system!”

Three hundred grand, and the loo doesn’t even flush.

“Yes,” I say. “Great!”

“Lexi.” Rosalie is giving me a thoughtful look. “Sweetie…can I have a little word? About Jon. I saw you talking to him earlier.”

I feel suddenly apprehensive. Did she see something?

“Oh, right!” I aim for a careless tone. “Yes, well, he’s Eric’s architect, so we just got chatting about the design, as you do…”

“Lexi.” She takes me by the arm and draws me away from the hubbub. “I know you had your bump on the head and everything.” She leans forward. “But do you
remember
anything about Jon? From your past?”

“Um…not really.”

Rosalie pulls me still nearer. “Sweetie, I’m going to give you a bit of a shock,” she says in a low, breathy voice. “A while ago you told me something in confidence. Girlfriend to girlfriend. I didn’t say a word to Eric…”

I’m transfixed, my fingers frozen around the stem of my champagne flute. Does Rosalie
know
?

“I know this may seem really hard to believe, but something was going on between you and Jon, behind Eric’s back.”

“You’re joking!” My face is burning. “Like…what, exactly?”

“Well, I’m afraid to say….” Rosalie glances around the room and hustles closer. “Jon kept pestering you. I just thought I should warn you in case he tried it on again.”

For a moment I’m too dumbstruck to reply.
Pestering
me?

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammer at last.

“What do you think? He’s tried it on with all of us.” Her nose wrinkles disparagingly.

“You mean…” I can’t quite process this. “You mean he’s tried it on with you too?”

“
Oh
my God, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “He told me Clive doesn’t understand me. Which is true,” she adds after a moment’s thought. “Clive’s a
total
dimwit. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to rush off and be a notch on his bedpost, does it? And he went after Margo, too,” she adds, waving merrily at a woman in green across the room. “
Such
a nerve. He said he knew her better than her own husband and she deserved more, and he could tell she was a sensual woman…. All kinds of ridiculous stuff!” She clicks her tongue dismissively. “Margo’s theory is he targets married women and tells them whatever they want to hear. He probably gets some kind of weird kick out of it—” She breaks off as she sees my frozen face. “Sweetie! Don’t
worry
. He’s like an irritating fly, you just have to swat him away. But he was quite persistent with you. You were, like, the big challenge. You know, being Eric’s wife and everything?” She peers at me. “Don’t you remember any of this?”

Ava walks past us with some guests, and Rosalie beams at them, but I can’t move.

“No,” I say at last. “I don’t remember any of it. So…what did I do?”

“You kept telling him to leave you alone. It was awkward. You didn’t want to wreck his relationship with Eric, you didn’t want to rock the boat…. You were very dignified, sweetie. I would have poured a drink over his head!” She suddenly focuses over my shoulder. “Darling, I must just dash and have a word with Clive about our dinner arrangements. He’s booked completely the wrong table, he’s an absolute
night-
mare…” She breaks off and looks at me again, suddenly anxious. “Are you okay? I just thought I should warn you….”

“No.” I come to. “I’m glad you did.”

“I mean, I know you’d never fall for his bullshit.” She squeezes my arm.

“Of course not!” Somehow I manage to laugh. “Of course I wouldn’t!”

Rosalie trips away into the party, but my feet are rooted to the ground. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life, so gullible, so
vain
.

I believed it all. I fell for his blarney.

We’ve been having a secret affair…. I know you better than Eric does….

It’s all bullshit. He took advantage of my memory loss. He flattered me, turned my head. And all he wanted was to get me into bed like a…a trophy. I feel hot with mortification. I
knew
I would never have an affair! I’m not the unfaithful type. I’m just not. I have a decent husband who loves me. And I allowed my head to be swayed. I nearly ruined everything.

Well, not anymore. I know where my priorities are. I take a few deep gulps of champagne. Then I lift my head high, walk forward through the crowd until I find Eric, and slip my arm through his.

“Darling. The party’s going wonderfully. You’re brilliant.”

“I think we’ve pulled it off.” He looks more relaxed than he has all evening. “Narrow escape with that alarm. Trust Jon to save the day. Hey, there he is! Jon!”

I clutch Eric’s arm even more tightly as Jon walks toward us. I can’t even bear to look at him. Eric claps him on the back and hands him a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. “Here’s to you,” he exclaims. “Here’s to Jon.”

“To Jon,” I echo tightly, taking the smallest possible sip of champagne. I’m just going to pretend he doesn’t exist. I’m going to blank him out.

A beep from my bag disturbs my thoughts, and I pull out my phone to see a new message.

From Jon.

I do not
believe
this. He’s texting me in front of Eric? I quickly press View and the message comes up.

Old Canal House in Islington, any evening from 6. We have so much to talk about.

I love you.
J

PS Delete this message.

PPS What did you do with the fish??

My face is burning with fury. Rosalie’s words ring in my head.
You just have to swat him away.

“It’s a text from Amy!” I say to Eric, my voice shrill. “I might just quickly reply…”

Without looking at Jon, I start texting, my fingers charged up with adrenaline.

Yeah. Right. I suppose you thought it was a laugh, taking advantage of the girl who lost her memory. Well, I know your stupid game, okay? I’m a married woman. Leave me alone.

I send the text and put my phone away. A moment later, Jon frowns at his watch and says casually, “Is that the right time? I think I’m fast.” He takes his cell phone out and squints at the display as though checking, but I can see his thumb moving over the keys and I can see him reading the message and I can see his face jerk with shock.

Ha. Got him.

After a few moments, he seems to recover. “I’m six minutes out,” he says, tapping at the phone. “I’ll just change the clock…”

I don’t know why he’s bothering with an excuse. Eric’s not even paying any attention. Three seconds later my phone beeps again and I pull it out.

“Another text from Amy,” I say disparagingly. “She’s such a pain.” I dart a glance at Jon as I put my finger on Delete, and his eyes widen with consternation. Huh. Now that I know the truth, it’s
obvious
he’s putting it all on.

“Is that a good idea?” he says quickly. “Deleting a message without even reading it?”

“I’m really not interested.” I shrug.

“But if you haven’t read it, you don’t know what it says…”

“Like I say”—I shoot him a sweet smile—“I’m not interested.” I press Delete, switch off my phone, and drop it into my bag.

“So!” Eric turns back to us, glowing and ebullient. “The Clarksons want a repeat viewing tomorrow. I think we have another sale. That’s six units, just tonight.”

“Well done, my darling, I’m so proud of you!” I exclaim, putting an arm around him in an extravagant gesture. “I love you even more now than I did on our wedding day.”

Eric frowns, confused. “But you don’t remember our wedding day. So you don’t know how much you loved me.”

For God’s sake. Does he have to be so
literal
?

I try to control my impatience. “Well, however much I loved you then…I love you more now. Much more.” I put my champagne glass down, and with a defiant glance at Jon, pull Eric in for a kiss. The longest, most slurpy, look-how-much-I-love-my-husband-and-by-the-way-we-have-great-sex kiss. At one point Eric tries to draw back, but I clamp tighter, pinning his face to mine. At last, when I think I might suffocate, I release him, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and look around the emptying room.

Jon has gone.

Chapter 15

My marriage. That’s my priority. From now on I’m going to focus on my relationship with Eric, and nothing else.

I’m still a bit shaken the next morning, as I go into the kitchen for breakfast and take the jug of green juice out of the fridge. I must have been crazy last night. I have the dream husband, handed to me on a plate. Why would I jeopardize that? Why would I kiss some guy in the back bedroom, whatever his story was?

I pour a little green juice into a glass and swirl it around to look like dregs, which is what I do every morning. (I can’t drink that pond-weed stuff. But neither can I disappoint Eric, who thinks green juice is almost as great as loft-style living.) Then I take a boiled egg from the pan and pour myself a cup of tea from the pot that Gianna made earlier. I’m really getting into this low-carb start to the day. I have a boiled egg, bacon, or egg-white omelette every morning without fail.

And then sometimes a bagel on the way to work. Just if I’m starving.

As I sit down, the kitchen seems calm and tranquil. But I’m still jittery. What if I’d taken things further with Jon? What if Eric had found out? I could have wrecked everything. I’ve only had this marriage for a few weeks—and already I’m risking it. I need to
cherish
it. Like a yucca plant.

“Morning!” Eric breezes into the kitchen in a blue shirt, looking ebullient. I’m not surprised. Last night’s launch was the best they’ve ever had, apparently. “Sleep well?”

“Great, thanks!”

We’re not sharing a bedroom yet, nor have we tried sex again. But if I’m going to cherish my marriage, maybe we should be getting more physical. I stand up to get the pepper and brush deliberately against Eric.

“You look great this morning.” I smile up at him.

“So do you!”

I run my hand down his jawline. Eric’s eyes meet mine questioningly, and he puts a hand up to meet mine. I glance quickly at the clock. There isn’t time, thank God.

No. I didn’t think that.

I need to be
positive
. Sex with Eric is going to be great, I know it is. Maybe we just need to do it in the dark. And not talk to each other.

“How are you…feeling?” Eric says with a cryptic little smile.

“I’m feeling fine! In a bit of a hurry, though.” I flash him a smile, move away, and gulp at my tea before he can suggest a quickie against the oven. Thank goodness, he seems to get the message. He pours himself a cup of tea, then takes out his BlackBerry as it beeps.

“Ah!” he says, sounding pleased. “I’ve just won a case of ’88 Lafite Rothschild at auction.”

“Wow!” I say enthusiastically. “Well done, darling!”

“Eleven hundred quid,” he continues. “Bit of a steal.”

Eleven hundred quid?

“For…how many bottles?” I ask.

“A case.” He frowns as though it’s obvious. “Twelve.”

I can’t speak. Eleven hundred quid for twelve bottles of wine? I’m sorry, that’s just…wrong. Does he know how much eleven hundred quid
is
? I could buy a hundred bottles of wine for that. And they’d still be posh ones. And I’d have money left over.

“Lexi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I come to. “Just thinking…what a great deal!” With a final gulp of tea I put on my jacket and pick up my briefcase. “Bye, darling.”

“Bye, sweetheart.” Eric comes over and we kiss each other good-bye. It’s actually starting to feel quite natural. I shrug on my jacket and am at the door when something hits me.

“Hey, Eric,” I say as casually as possible. “What’s…Mont Blanc?”

“Mont Blanc?” Eric turns, his face searching mine in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Do you remember Mont Blanc?”

Okay. I really fell into this one. I can’t say “No, Jon told me.”

“I don’t
remember,
exactly,” I improvise. “But the name ‘Mont Blanc’ came back to me, and it seemed significant, somehow. Does it mean something…special?”

“You’ll find out, darling.” I can see the suppressed pleasure in Eric’s face. “It’ll all come back to you. I won’t say any more for now. This has to be a good sign!”

“Maybe!” I try to match his excitement. “Well…see you later!” I head out of the kitchen, racking my brain.
Mont Blanc.
Skiing? Those posh fountain pens? A great big snowy mountain?

I have absolutely no idea.

I get off the tube at Victoria, buy a bagel, and nibble it as I walk along. But as I get near the office, I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. I have a nasty churning in my stomach. That kind of sinking, I-don’t-want-go-to-school sensation.

Fi might be my friend again, but no one else is. And I messed up in front of Simon Johnson, and I still don’t feel on top of anything…As the building comes in sight I stop, heavy with dread.

Come on, I tell myself firmly. It’ll be fun.

No, it won’t.

Well, okay, it won’t. But I don’t have any choice.

Summoning all my determination, I chuck the rest of the bagel in a bin and push my way through the main glass doors. I head straight up to my office without bumping into anyone, sit down, and pull my pile of papers toward me. As I do so, I notice the Post-it I wrote yesterday:
Discuss sales with Byron
. Maybe I’ll do that now. I lift the phone to dial his extension, but put it down again when there’s a knock at the door.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lexi?” Debs edges her way into the room. She’s wearing a turquoise beaded cardigan and denim skirt, and holding an envelope.

“Oh,” I say apprehensively. “Hi, Debs.”

“How are you?” She sounds awkward.

“I’m…fine.” The door widens to reveal Fi and Carolyn, both looking ill at ease too. “Hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “Is everything okay?”

“I told them what you told me,” says Fi. “Last night we went out for a drink and I told them.”

“We didn’t realize,” says Debs, looking worried. “We didn’t give you a chance. We just assumed you were still…” She casts around for the word.

“A power-crazed nightmare,” supplies Carolyn, deadpan.

“We feel bad.” Debs bites her lip as she looks at the others. “Don’t we?”

“Don’t worry.” I force a smile. But all of a sudden, as I regard the three of them, I feel more lonely than ever. These were my mates; we were always a foursome. But now they’ve had three years of nights out and talking and laughs that I’ve missed out on. They’re banded together in a trio and I’m the stranger.

“So, I just wanted to give you this.” Debs advances toward the desk, her face pinkening, and hands me the envelope. I rip it open and pull out a stiff white engraved card. A wedding invitation.

“Hope you can come.” Debs has shoved her hands into her pockets. “You and Eric.”

I feel a rush of humiliation. Her body language is obvious. The last thing she wants is us at her wedding.

“Look, Debs, you don’t have to ask me. It’s really kind of you…” I’m trying to stuff the card back into the envelope, my face hot. “But I know you don’t really—”

“Yes, I do.” She puts her hand on mine, stopping me, and I look up. Her eyes are just the same as they ever were—deep blue with long mascaraed lashes. “You were one of my best friends, Lexi. I know things changed. But…you should be there.”

“Well…thanks,” I mumble at last. “I’d love to come.” I turn the invitation over, running a finger over the engraving. “How did you get your mother to agree to such a late guest?”

“She nearly killed me,” Debs says bluntly, and I can’t help laughing.

“Did she threaten to stop your allowance?”

“Yes!”
Debs exclaims, and this time we all break into giggles. Debs’s mum has been threatening to stop her allowance ever since I’ve known her—even though she stopped giving Debs an allowance about ten years ago.

“We’ve bought some muffins, too,” says Fi. “To say sorry for yesterday…” She stops as there’s a tapping at the door. Simon Johnson is standing in the doorway.

“Simon!” I start in shock. “I didn’t see you there!”

“Lexi.” He smiles. “Available for a quick chat?”

“We’ll go,” Fi says hurriedly, and hustles the others out. “Thanks for that…er…information, Lexi. Very useful.”

“Bye, Fi!” I smile at her gratefully.

“I won’t take up your time,” Simon says, shutting the door as they leave. “Just wanted to give you the final rundown for Monday’s meeting. Obviously keep it close to your chest. Within this department, only you and Byron have this information.” He comes toward the desk, holding out a folder.

“Absolutely.” I nod in a businesslike manner. “Thanks.”

As I take the folder from him, I see
June ’07
typed discreetly in the top right-hand corner and feel a twinge of foreboding. I still have no idea what June ’07 means. I searched through all my files yesterday afternoon, but found nothing. No computer files, no paperwork, nothing.

I know I should have asked Byron. But I was too proud. I wanted to figure it out for myself.

“Looking forward to it!” I pat the folder, hoping I look convincing.

“Good. It’s Monday, twelve noon sharp, in the boardroom. A couple of the nonexecutive directors have to shoot off promptly.”

“See you there,” I say with a confident smile. “Thanks, Simon.”

The minute Simon has left, I sit down and whip open the folder. The first page is entitled Summary, and I run my eyes down the text.
June ’07…major restructuring…realignment in the market…overall rethink…

After a few seconds I sink down into my chair, feeling overwhelmed. No wonder this is a big secret. The whole company’s being changed around. We’re acquiring a home technology company…we’re amalgamating several departments…I flick my eyes farther down.

…context of its current sales performance…plans to disband…

What?

I read the words again. And again.

My spine has gone cold. I’m frozen on my chair, reading the lines over and over. That can’t…it
can’t
mean what I think it means…

With a surge of adrenaline I leap to my feet and hurtle out the door and down the corridor. There’s Simon, by the lifts, talking to Byron.

“Simon!” I’m gulping air in my panic. “Could I possibly have a quick word?”

“Lexi.” As he looks up I can see a wrinkle of irritation in his brow.

“Hi.” I look around, checking there’s no one around to overhear. “I just wanted to…to…clarify a couple of things. These plans to disband the Flooring section.” I tap the folder. “That can’t mean…you can’t really mean…”

“She’s finally twigged.” Byron folds his arms, shaking his head with such amusement that I want to punch him. He
knew
about this?

Simon sighs. “Lexi, we’ve been through this many times, as you know. It’s a tough market out there. You’ve done marvels with your sales force—we all appreciate that. And you yourself will be rewarded. But the department is unsustainable.”

“But you can’t get rid of Flooring! Deller Carpets is all about flooring! This is how the company started!”

“Keep your voice down!” Simon snaps
sotto voce,
glancing around the floor. All the pleasantness has disappeared from his veneer. “Lexi, I cannot have this level of disruption. It’s highly unprofessional.”

“But—”

“There’s nothing to worry about. You and Byron will both have new roles in senior management. It’s all been worked out very carefully. I don’t have time for this.” The lift arrives and he steps into it.

“But, Simon,” I say desperately. “You can’t just
fire
the whole department….”

It’s too late. The lift doors have closed.

“It’s not called firing,” Byron’s sardonic voice comes behind me. “It’s called making redundant. Get your terms right.”

“How can you just
stand
there?” I wheel around, incensed. “And how come I didn’t know anything about this?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Byron clicks his tongue in mock self-reproach. “I’m sorry, Lexi. It’s hard to know where to start when you’ve forgotten…let’s see. Everything.”

“Where are the files? Why didn’t I see this before?”

“I may have borrowed them.” He shrugs and heads toward his office.
“Ciao.”

“No! Wait!” I push my way in behind him and close the door. “I don’t understand. Why are they axing the department?”

“Have you
looked
at our sales recently?” Byron rolls his eyes.

“They went up!” I retort before I can stop myself, already knowing this is the wrong tack.

“By three percent?” Byron says scoffingly. “Lexi, carpet is old news. We’ve failed to penetrate the other flooring markets. We’ve only got a couple of contracts to see out. Face it. The party’s over.”

“But we can’t just lose the department. Those original carpet designs are classics! What about…rugs?”

Byron stares at me incredulously for a moment, then bursts into laughter.

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“What?”

“You do know you’re repeating yourself? You said all this at the first crisis meeting. ‘We could make the carpets into rugs!’” he imitates me in a shrill voice. “Give up.”

“But they’ll all be out of a job! The whole team!”

“Yeah. Shame.” He sits at his desk and motions toward the door. “I have work to do?”

“You’re a
bastard,
” I say, my voice shaking. I stride out of his office and slam the door, still clutching the folder, breathing harder and harder until I think I might hyperventilate. I have to read all this information, I have to think….

“Lexi!” My head jerks up and instinctively I clasp the folder closer to my chest. Fi is standing at the door of the main Flooring office, beckoning me. “Come in! Have a muffin.”

For a moment I just stare speechlessly at her.

“Come on!” She laughs. “Simon Johnson’s gone now, hasn’t he?”

“Um…yes,” I say huskily. “He has.”

“Well, come on, then! We’re all waiting!”

I can’t refuse. I have to appear normal; I have to appear friendly, even though I’m in a state of meltdown…

Fi grabs my arm—and as I follow her into the main office, I feel an almighty shock. A banner has been strung up between two window latches, reading
Welcome Back, Lexi!!!
A plate of fresh muffins is on the filing cabinet, along with an Aveda gift basket.