Page 18 of Pyg

9

NOT MY CIRCUS

A lice twisted the wand to open the vertical blinds and natural light flooded the office. She reached up and opened the sash window — not too far because of the piss-taking pigeons, but enough to let in some air. The blinds flapped and rattled against the windowsill in the light breeze, damp and fragrant from the morning dew burning off in the bright sunlight.

Alice drew in a deep breath and smiled , because the fragrant morning dew wouldn’t have even crossed her mind until recently.

So much had shifted since she’d last been in this room. How was that only three days ago? Surely, the seismic change she’d experienced needed longer than days? But perhaps it had all started before she’d even realised.

Alice stowed her handbag under her desk and flicked on the computer. As the machine whirred to life, she went to the kitchenette with the supplies she’d picked up on her way in. The tube light buzzed as Alice popped the biscuits in the cupboard and the milk in the fridge — semi-skimmed for Jeremy, oat for Truscote. She tipped last week’s milk away, rinsed the containers and left them to drain in the sink.

Alice checked her watch and frowned. Another thing to add to the growing list of ‘Stuff to Replace’ — she didn’t want to be reminded of Fran every time she looked at her wrist.

8:23 a.m. Jeremy always arrives at precisely 8:30 a.m. She’d boil the kettle and get a cafetière ready. She’d leave the phone lines off until they’d had their meeting. Shit, the meeting!

Alice rushed around her desk, leaned over the keyboard, and entered her login credentials. She clicked straight into Jeremy’s calendar, which was thankfully empty until his first appointment at 9:30 a.m.

Alice checked Truscote’s diary too; she really should speak to each of them face-to-face, seeing as she worked for them both. For some reason she was dreading the Truscote conversation more, even though it wasn’t Truscote’s wife she’d been sleeping with.

Bollocks. Truscote was at The Milverton all morning.

Oh well. She’d have to arrange something with her separately. Perhaps by then the wounds would’ve had a little more time to heal and Truscote wouldn’t be able to pick her apart and scrutinise her real motivations for leaving. Also, in her current state, Alice would likely still react if Truscote were to round on Fran.

Fran was Alice’s mistake, and it really was none of Truscote’s business.

This was Alice taking responsibility. Claiming her power back and moving on with her life. God, Maggie had really got in her head. But she’d also chatted it through with Ash over coffee yesterday. It helped that Ash agreed Alice resigning was for the best. The triangulation of opinion bolstered her, convincing her it was the right decision, even though she didn’t have another job to go to and a mountain of debt looming large.

“You can text me if you wobble.” Ash had pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled her phone number on a muffin café napkin. “But you’re stronger than you think. You’ve got this.”

Alice had picked up a SIM card on her way home and Ash’s had been the second number she programmed into the phone, right after Maggie’s.

Everyone else, she’d have to message on Facebook with her new contact details; if only she could remember her password to log in.

Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, Alice watered the office plants. Hopefully, her successor would keep them alive too — they were her plant-babies. And, yes, they may well have come off the back of Fran telling Jeremy he needed to allocate some budget to ‘brighten up the dreary place,’ but it was Alice who’d picked them out and nurtured them, even if she couldn’t actually identify most of them. Now that she could trust herself to keep them alive, she would buy some plants for her flat. First, she needed to get a new job. And write a list to remind herself of the order of things.

One foot in front of the other; less chance of tripping over.

Alice returned to the kitchenette and rinsed out the cafetière whilst humming that Annie Lennox song about walking on broken glass which had been stuck in her head for days now. But it felt happy and hopeful, so she didn’t mind it spinning on repeat. Despite her trepidation about handing in her notice, the levity of her mood could only be a good thing.

“Morning, Alice.” Jeremy’s low voice rumbled through from Reception.

Alice popped her head around the doorway. “Morning.”

“Can I talk to you in my office, please?”

“Sure, I need to speak to you, too. I’m just making coffee. I’ll be there in two.”

Briefcase in hand, Jeremy glanced down at his polished brogues and frowned. “Don’t worry about the coffee.”

“Are you sure? It’s almost ready.”

“It’s fine. I’d just like to talk to you. Please.” Jeremy’s tone was terse, lacking his normal joviality. He stepped toward his office, his movements stiff and mechanical, like he was going through the motions, forcing himself in a direction he didn’t want to go.

Oh shit, surely Fran hasn’t told him.

Alice stepped back into the confined space of the kitchenette. She clenched and unclenched her fists to dispel some of the nervous energy that now tingled in her limbs. Deep breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

“You’ve got this,” she muttered to herself, and made her way to Jeremy’s office via her own desk, where she stooped to collect a small white envelope from her handbag.

Alice entered Jeremy’s office, fingering the letter between her hands, uncertainty taking hold with every step. Jeremy had shrugged off his coat and draped it on the back of his desk chair rather than hanging it on the door hook, as he usually did. He sat at his desk with his head cradled in his hands. His face looked pale and drawn, with dark bags drooping under his eyes. Alice had never seen him like this.

“Rough weekend?” she asked and immediately wondered if that was the wrong thing to say.

Jeremy lifted his gaze. His hangdog expression punched Alice in the chest.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Foreboding built with each of his quietly enunciated words. “Take a seat.”

Alice swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She perched on the edge of the leather chair, not wanting to recline into it. This situation was anything but comfortable. How could she relax?

“Jeremy, I?—”

“I think it’s time we ended the pretence, don’t you?”

“Sorry?”

“About Francesca.”

Alice felt the colour draining from her face.

“I know you’ve been sleeping with my wife.”

Alice’s eyelashes flickered down. She looked at the envelope she was turning over in her hands.

“Yes, I have. I’m so sorry, Jeremy. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I know you won’t believe me when I say how much I respect you. You’ve been a wonderful boss, and you didn’t deserve...” all her words spilled out at once, tumbling over each other.

Jeremy raised his hand. But she needed to say her final piece.

“It’s actually why I wanted to speak to you today. I’m handing in my resignation. It’s for the best.” She slid the letter across the desk towards him. He stared at the missive for a moment before sliding it back.

“I can’t accept this.”

“Why? I’ve been sleeping with your wife!”

Jeremy scoffed. “Well, at least one of us was.”

Alice winced. “God, I’m so ashamed. You must be so angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, Alice. If anything, you should be angry at me because I’ve known all along.”

Alice shook her head. “What?”

Jeremy sat back and folded his arms. “Look, it’s pretty uncomfortable for me to talk about. But I owe you this much. It’s an arrangement Francesca and I have.”

“An arrangement?” Alice stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“I love my wife, and I want her to have whatever she wants, but I can’t satisfy that part of her. You know, the part that craves… well, you.”

The room felt like it had tipped sideways. Alice shook her head again, trying to right herself. “Wait, what — she knew that you knew?”

“Of course.”

“But she was always threatening to tell you. Whenever things didn’t go her way, she?—”

“That’s Francesca. She loves like a cat — with her claws.” Jeremy laughed, a warm chuckle of endearment, as if Fran were a harmless fluffy creature, not a manipulative toxic viper. Alice glimpsed the insanity of it all. He’d completely rationalised Fran’s behaviour. Jeremy loved his wife so much he was prepared to live with every wound she inflicted, not only on him but on anyone else.

“Oh-my-fucking-God,” she muttered, slipping back into the leather chair, yielding to the comfort of its warm folds. She stared into the middle distance, trying to process everything she thought she knew but had got so wrong. How had she become so entangled in this web? Truscote had tried to warn her. Why hadn’t she listened? Wait, Truscote — she and Fran… had they?

“Alice, you see, I can’t accept your resignation. I have a predicament, and I was wondering if you would consider helping me out.”

“Sorry?”

“It destroyed Francesca when you said you wouldn’t see her any more. She came home from your rendezvous in a blind rage, screaming and tearing up the house. And then whatever happened on Saturday… well, she’s been distraught ever since. I had to prescribe her something to calm her down. You’re not like the others. This is different.”

“The others?”

“Yes, it’s an arrangement, like I said. We’ve been together for thirty-seven years. Married for thirty of those. Of course there have been others. But no one else has ever enthralled her like you have.”

Alice’s stomach swooped at the thought of the shatterproof Francesca Dalton in a frenzy of despair over her. Seriously? She couldn’t quite envision it, but then Fran had always struggled when she didn’t get her way. This was clearly just her response to one of those rare occasions.

“She’s heartbroken, Alice. I can’t bear to see her like this. I need your help.”

“I don’t know how I can help you fix your wife’s broken heart, Jeremy. I think you both need the sort of help that’s completely beyond me.”

The man in front of Alice seemed to deflate; he sank lower in his seat. His red eyes and tired face drooped like a bloodhound’s.

“Don’t leave her. Can’t you just carry on as you were? We’ll all just carry on as we were. Pretend like nothing has changed.”

“So, let me get this straight, as it were… you want me to continue having an affair with your wife?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it in quite those terms, but yes, I suppose that’s about the crux of it. What would it take? I can give you a pay rise?”

“No. Fuck.” Alice scrunched her fingers in her hair and massaged them into her scalp. “Why do you people think you can buy me? I’m not a hooker.”

“Goodness, no, that’s not what I was implying. It’s just if I can throw a little money at the problem and secure Francesca’s happiness, then I’m more than prepared to do that.” Jeremy laced his fingers together on the desk. Alice had seen him do this when he thought he was about to have a breakthrough. “If it’s mutually beneficial, who is it hurting?”

“Fran was going to leave you. Did you know that?”

Jeremy paused for a moment. A flicker of sadness passed across his face, but then he chuckled. “Yes. She hasn’t, though, has she?” He raised his left hand and pointed to his wedding ring.

Alice stared at him. I’ve been told my whole life that I’m the crazy, irrational one, but clearly it’s a spectrum and everyone normalises their own insanity…

Well, not my circus, not my fucking monkeys.

Jeremy looked at her with pleading eyes. “Alice, please. If not for me, then for Francesca. I know you love her too?—”

“No. Neither of you are who I thought you were. You’re both cracked. I wish you well, Jeremy, but I want nothing more to do with this.” Alice stood and forcefully pushed her handwritten letter across his desk towards him. “I resign.”

Jeremy stared at the white rectangle, the corners of his mouth twitching. Alice felt a pang of pity for him before turning and walking away.

“I don’t accept. You’re fired,” Jeremy shouted after her.

“Whatever,” Alice muttered as she scooped up her handbag and left the building with her head held high.