The First Mistake(5)

‘Alice, wow, look at you,’ he says as he comes towards me in reception. He looks me up and down appreciatively and I’m pleased that I made a special effort. I kidded myself when I was getting dressed this morning that my ‘look’ was just a subtle extension of what I normally wear, yet it had been the first thing Beth noticed when she saw me, and Lottie had also commented on how the red complemented my skin tone. Maybe it wasn’t so subtle after all.

‘David, goodness, you haven’t changed a bit,’ I say, except he has, and I struggle to hide my shock. I’ve spent all these years imagining him as he was, as if he’d been somehow frozen in time, whilst I grew older. But he’s grown older with me. His dark wedge has been replaced by a bald head, so shiny that the glare of the spotlights above him is reflecting off it, and his perfect physique, the six-pack that all the girls swooned over, has been recast with what looks like an extra six stone.

‘So, how have you been?’ he says as he kisses me on the cheek.

‘Good, really good.’

‘I heard what happened to Tom.’ He leads me into the boardroom. ‘I’m so sorry.’

People often say words to that effect when their back is turned. They’re somehow under the misapprehension that it’s easier that way. It might be, for them. But ask anyone who’s been through it and they’ll tell you that they’d rather people be up front than try to brush it under the carpet, or, even worse, avoid the awkward subject altogether.

‘So, how are you doing?’ he asks solemnly.

‘I’m well, thanks. The business is going great, so it’s all good.’

‘And you married again?’ It’s more of a statement than a question and I’m taken aback, like I always am when people I haven’t seen for years seemingly know more about me than they should. I wonder what else he knows.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘In some respects, I’ve been very lucky.’

‘I’m pleased you were able to make a new life for yourself after what happened.’

I offer a closed smile. ‘And you?’ I ask. It seems rude not to at least pretend to be interested in what’s been happening in his life since I last saw him. ‘You’ve obviously made a great success of Temple Homes.’

He smiles, and his eyes disappear into the folds of skin around them. I can’t even begin to compute that this is the same person, man or boy, who had taken my virginity one summer night, after the end-of-exams ball.

‘The company’s doing really well,’ he says. ‘But my marriage, unfortunately, was a casualty of its success.’

I drop my eyes, uncomfortable with the personal slant the conversation has taken. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘It happens,’ he says. ‘Perhaps you can’t have it all.’

‘But you must be very proud of what you’ve achieved here,’ I say, looking around the boardroom and noting the various building certificates on the wall.

‘Yes,’ he says, puffing out his chest and sitting up straighter in his chair. ‘But I think we can go further, hence bringing you in. I hope you didn’t mind me contacting AT Designs, but I’ve seen your work around and I’m very impressed with what you do.’

‘Not at all,’ I say, smiling. ‘That’s good to hear.’

A phone trills around the room and for a moment I ignore it, as I’m sure I turned mine to silent. But when it continues, and I notice David’s sitting on the table between us, showing no sign of life, I rummage in my bag.

‘Sorry, excuse me,’ I say, before seeing that it’s Nathan and pressing decline.

‘So, the Bradbury Avenue project is—’ David begins, before the ringing of my phone interrupts us again.

‘I’m so sorry, let me turn it off.’ I hit decline again and turn the volume off, but panic is already beginning to set in and I can’t concentrate on anything David is saying to me. I note everything down as the silent calls continue to light up my mobile, my writing becoming more frantic.

‘Okay, so leave this with me,’ I say, standing up, in an attempt to wrap up the meeting prematurely. ‘And I’ll give you a call once I’ve got some ideas to present to you.’

‘Why don’t we do that over dinner?’ he says, holding on to the hand I’ve offered for a little longer than necessary.

‘It’s probably best to keep this professional,’ I say, half laughing.

Without warning, his hands are on my buttocks, pulling me in to him.

‘No one ever need know,’ he breathes into my ear. The pungent smell of coffee permeates my nostrils and I turn my head. He makes a grab for one of my breasts, squeezing it hard. ‘We were good together, you and me. I bet we still are.’

‘Don’t you ever do that again,’ I hiss, pushing him away from me with two hands on his chest. He looks hurt, as if he can’t understand what he’s done wrong.

‘But I thought—’

‘You thought what? That just because we’ve been together before gives you the right to go for it again.’

‘Well, y-yes,’ he stutters, and it takes all my resolve not to slap his face.

I quickly gather up my things from the table and turn to walk out. ‘This has clearly been a waste of my time.’