Remember Me? (25 page)

“We never gave you a proper welcome back,” says Fi, her face slightly pink. “And we just wanted to say we’re glad you’re okay after the car crash.” She addresses the room. “To those of you who didn’t know Lexi way back when…I just want to say that I think this accident has changed things. I know she’s going to be the most fantastic boss and we should all get right behind her. Here’s to you, Lexi.”

She lifts her coffee mug and the whole room breaks into applause.

“Thanks, everyone,” I manage, my face puce. “You’re…all great.”

They’re all about to lose their jobs. They have no idea. And they’ve bought me muffins and a gift basket.

“Have a coffee.” Fi brings a mug over. “Let me take that folder for you…”

“No!” I gasp, clutching it tighter. “It’s…fairly confidential…”

“It’s all our bonuses, isn’t it?” Debs says with a grin, and then gives me a nudge. “Make sure they’re all nice and big, Lexi! I want a new handbag!”

Somehow I raise a sick smile. I’m in a bad dream.

As I finally leave work at six-thirty, the nightmare hasn’t lifted. I have the weekend to put together a defense of the Flooring department somehow. And I barely know what the problem is, let alone the answer. As I’m jabbing the ground-floor button in the lift, Byron slips in, wearing his overcoat.

“Working at home?” He raises his eyebrows as he sees my stuffed briefcase.

“I have to save the department,” I say shortly. “I’m going to work all weekend until I find a solution.”

“You have to be kidding.” Byron shakes his head incredulously. “Lexi, haven’t you read the proposal? This is going to be
better
for you and me. They’re creating a new strategic team, we’re going to have more power, more scope…”

“That’s not the point!” I cry in a blaze of fury. “What about all our friends who won’t have anything?”

“Sob, sob, let me just mop up my bleeding heart,” Byron drawls. “They’ll find jobs.” He hesitates, eyeing me closely. “You know, you weren’t bothered before.”

It takes a second or two for his words to register. “What do you mean?”

“Before you had that car crash, you were all for getting rid of Flooring. Once you saw your new package. More power for us, more money…what’s not to love?”

A coldness creeps over me.

“I don’t believe you.” My voice is jerky. “I don’t believe you. I would
never
have sold out my friends.”

Byron just looks at me pityingly.

“Yeah, you would. You’re not a saint, Lexi. Why should you be?” The doors open and he strides out of the lift.

I arrive at Langridge’s department store, and travel up to the personal shopping department as though in a daze. I have an appointment at seven o’clock with my shopper, Ann. According to the manual, I see her every three months and she picks out some “pieces” and we work on that season’s “look.”

“Lexi! How
are
you?” A voice greets me as I approach the reception area. Ann is very petite, with close-cropped dark hair, slim black cigarette pants, and a distinct perfume that turns my stomach instantly. “I was so devastated to hear about your accident!”

“I’m fine, thanks. All recovered now.” I attempt a smile.

I should have canceled this appointment. I don’t know what I’m doing here.

“Good! Now, I have some
fabulous
pieces for you to see.” Ann ushers me into a cubicle and presents a rail of clothes to me with a flourish. “You’ll see some new shapes and styles here, but I think you can carry them off…”

What is she talking about, new shapes and styles? They’re all suits in neutral colors. I have a cupboard full of these already.

Ann is showing me jacket after jacket, talking about pockets and lengths, but I can’t hear a word. Something is buzzing in my head like a trapped insect; it’s getting louder and louder….

“Do you have anything different?” I cut her off abruptly. “Do you have anything…
alive
?”

“Alive?” Ann echoes uncertainly. She hesitates, then reaches for another beige jacket. “This is full of flair…”

I stride out of the cubicle onto the main shop floor, feeling like I need to gasp for air. Blood is rushing in my ears. I feel a bit deranged, to be honest.

“This.” I seize a purple minidress with bright splodges on it. “This is great. I could go clubbing in this.”

Ann looks like she wants to pass out.

“Lexi,” she says at last. “That’s…not what I would call your style.”

“Well, I would.” Defiantly I grab a silver miniskirt. “And this.”

It’s exactly like what I’d pick up at New Look, only a million times more expensive, obviously.

“Lexi.” Ann places her fingers on the bridge of her nose and breathes in a couple of times. “I am your stylist. I know what suits you. You have a very workable, attractive, professional look that we’ve spent some time honing—”

“It’s boring. It’s stultifying.” I pluck a beige sleeveless dress out of her arms and hold it up. “I’m not this person, I’m just not.”

“Lexi, you are.”

“I’m not! I need fun. I need color.”

“You’ve existed perfectly well for several years in beige and black.” Ann’s face has tightened. “Lexi, you told me
specifically
at our first meeting that what you required was a working capsule wardrobe in neutral colors—”

“That was then, okay?” I’m trying to curb my agitation, but it’s as if all the events of the day are bubbling up in a rush of distress. “Maybe things have changed. Maybe
I’ve
changed.”

“This.” Ann comes up with another beige suit, with tiny pleats. “
This
is you.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not me! It’s not! I’m not this person! I won’t be her!” Tears are stinging my eyes. I start tugging pins out of my chignon, suddenly desperate to get rid of it. “I’m not the kind of person who wears beige suits! I’m not the kind of person who wears her hair in a bun every day. I’m not the kind of person who pays a thousand quid for wine. I’m not the kind of person who…who sells out her friends…”

I’m gulping with sobs by now. My chignon won’t come loose, so strands of hair are sticking out all over my head like a scarecrow. My whole face is wet with tears. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and Ann whips the beige dress away in horror.

“Don’t get tears on the Armani!” she snaps.

“Here.” I shove it back to her. “You’re welcome to it.” And without saying any more, I leave.

I head to the café on the ground floor, order a hot chocolate, and drink it while I take the rest of the pins out of my chignon. Then I order another, together with a doughnut. After a while, all the carbs have settled in my stomach like a warm, comforting cushion, and I feel better. There has to be a way, there
has
to. I’ll work all weekend, I’ll find the solution, I’ll save the department….

A beep from my pocket interrupts my thoughts. I pull out my phone and see it’s a text from Eric.

How are you doing? Working late?

As I stare at the words I’m suddenly touched. Overwhelmingly touched, in fact. Eric cares about me. He’s thinking about me.

On my way home now, I type back. I missed you today!!

It’s not exactly true, but it has the right sound to it.

I missed you too! comes back instantly.

I knew there was a point to marriage. And this is it. Someone to care about you when everything’s crap. Someone to cheer you up. Just texting Eric is making me feel a million times warmer than the hot chocolate did. I’m composing a reply in my head when the phone beeps once more.

Fancy a Mont Blanc?? :) :)

Again with the Mont Blanc. What
is
this? A cocktail, maybe?

Well, it’s obviously really special to Eric. And there’s only one way I’ll find out.

Great! I text back. Can’t wait!

Then I pick up my bag, head out of Langridges, and hail a taxi.

It only takes about twenty minutes to arrive home, during which time I reread three files, each more depressing than the last. Carpet sales have never been worse in the whole history of the company, whereas every other department is booming. At last I close the files and stare out the taxi window, my mind working overtime. If I could just put a rescue package together…I
know
there’s still value in the Deller Carpet brand—

“Love?” The taxi driver breaks me out of my reverie. “We’re here.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” I’m fumbling for my purse when my phone beeps yet again.

I’m ready!

Ready? This gets more and more mysterious.

Just got home! See you in a minute!

I text back briskly, and hand the money to the taxi driver.

As I let myself into the flat, the lights are dim, in a setting that I recognize as Seduction. Music is playing so quietly I can barely hear it; other than that it’s totally silent.

“Hi!” I call out cautiously, hanging up my coat.

“Hi!”

Eric’s distant voice seems to be coming from the bedroom. My bedroom.

Well…I guess, officially, our bedroom.

I check my reflection in the mirror and hastily give my disheveled hair a comb. Then I head to the other side of the living area and through to the bedroom. The door is only slightly ajar; I can’t see inside the room. I stand there for a moment, wondering what on earth this is all about. Then I push the door open. And at the sight before me I nearly scream out loud.

This is Mont Blanc?
This
is Mont Blanc?

Eric is lying on the bed. Totally naked. Except for the most massive mound of whipped cream on his genital region.

“Hi, darling.” He raises his eyebrows with a knowing twinkle, then glances downward. “Dive in!”

In?

Dive?

Dive
in
?

I’m paralyzed with horror as I survey the creamy, whippy mountain. Every cell in my body is telling me that I do not want to dive in.

But I can’t just turn and run away, can I? I can’t reject him. This is my husband. This is obviously…what we do.

Oh God, oh God…

Gingerly I edge forward toward the creamy edifice. Barely knowing what I’m doing, I extend a finger and take a tiny scoop from the top of the mound, then put it in my mouth.

“It’s…it’s sweetened!” My voice is grainy from nerves.

“Low calorie.” Eric beams back at me.

No. No. I’m sorry. This just…This isn’t happening. Not in my lifetime. I have to come up with an excuse….

“I feel dizzy!” The words come out of nowhere. I clap a hand to my eyes and back away from the bed. “Oh my God. I’m having a flashback.”

“A
flashback
?” Eric sits up, alert.

“Yes! I had a sudden memory of…the wedding,” I improvise. “It was just a brief image, of you and me, but it was really vivid, it took me by surprise…”

“Sit down, darling!” Eric is frowning anxiously. “Take it easy. Maybe some more memories will come back.”

He seems so hopeful, I feel terrible for lying. But it’s better than saying the truth, surely?

“I might just go and lie down quietly in the other room, if you don’t mind.” I head swiftly toward the door, my hand still shielding my eyes from the sight of the cream mountain. “I’m sorry, Eric, after you went to so much…trouble…”