Page 27 of Strap In
In one smooth motion Helen gathers her bag and rises, slipping out. She leaves Jean alone with Peter – and the growing certainty that something is wrong. Drastically so. ‘What is it? Did Leonides back out?’
‘No, no. Nothing like that.’ Peter stands by the window gazing out over London, rocking from his heel to toe. Before him the Thames stretches flat and grey towards the horizon, mirroring the dull sky above. ‘All those years we spent dreaming of the view from the top floor, and how often do we stop to appreciate it?’
Jean rises. ‘Peter. Tell me.’
He takes another moment to steel himself. Only then does Peter turn and look her in the eye, coming close enough to speak in a low, gentle voice. ‘I just got off the phone with Lilian Decker. Will died last night. And I wanted to speak with you before telling the office.’
Jean leans against her desk, glass cool and slippery beneath her palms. When she’d first joined the firm, freshly minted as Decker & Dennings, Will had presided over them all. To a junior associate he’d seemed as remote and powerful as the inhabitants of Mount Olympus. Though their paths had rarely crossed to begin with, his smallest decisions had shaped the entirety of Jean’s days – and often her nights as Jean strived to prove herself, sacrificing sleep for advancement. It was impossible to imagine the firm without him, or the world, which had seemed one and the same.
Peter touches her elbow, interrupting Jean’s thoughts. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Fine.’ Jean straightens. Wipes both hands against her skirt and watches both misting prints fade from the tabletop, as if they never were. ‘How did it happen?’
‘A massive stroke. Will was gone by the time the ambulance arrived.’
‘I see.’ Once she’d fantasised about this moment, manifesting it with the intensity of a child yearning for Christmas. But the reality is… surreal. Another hollow victory without Marianne. ‘Any word on the funeral?’
‘Saturday next at the RAC Club.’ He squeezes Jean’s shoulder. ‘I told Lilian that I’d be there to represent the firm. And Emily’s organising a wreath. Don’t worry about any of this, alright?’
‘I think that we should both be there, all things considered.’
Peter’s eyes pop, round as his sushi rolls. And though he’s quick to recover, it’s obvious he didn’t anticipate the conversation moving in this direction. After all, he’d spent years arranging things so that Jean’s meetings with clients, conferences, courses, and rare days of annual leave all coincided with shareholder meetings to save her from any potential overlap with Will – a silent piece of tact that Jean simultaneously resented and appreciated. Even after Peter’s months of wining and dining the board had come to fruition and they’d forced Will out, there had been no way to pry him from his seat.
Will had flat out refused to sell his shares, not even for triple their asking price, unwilling to relinquish this last hold on the company he’d built from the ground up. And Jean had almost admired his tenacity. Would have, if it wasn’t for the fact that the mere sight of Will had her breaking out in a cold sweat; regressing into that compliant junior associate and losing every inch of ground she’d gained in all the years between. Jean despised her own weakness, and hated Peter for seeing it even as she’d loved him for that unspoken kindness.
It’s there in his eyes as he looks at her now, uncertain. ‘That’s not necessary, Jean. Don’t feel obliged.’
‘It sends the right message.’ Still, doubt lingers around Peter’s mouth. Jean looks him dead in the eye. ‘I want to be there.’
‘Oh.’ Understanding dawns. ‘Oh! That’s, ah, understandable given the circumstances.’
‘Yes. Now if that’s all you came to discuss, I’d better get back into this.’
But Jean doesn’t start working when Peter leaves; not right away. She fishes her personal phone from the desk drawer. Writes:Tonight?
Ava messages back at 13.02 p.m., gratifyingly close to the start of her lunch break.Sure.
And though Jean has every intention of losing herself in passion, washing her thoughts away on a tide of dopamine and endorphins, Ava too senses that something is off. For the first time Jean laments that she is nothing like a man, able to fuck first and ask questions later. The more urgent Jean’s advances, the more she pulls away. Until at last, Ava breaks their kiss, smoothing Jean’s hair back from her cheeks.
‘Is everything alright?’
Jean catches sight of herself in the mirror and scrubs the remaining lipstick from her mouth. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ava bites her swollen lip, and that uncertainty softens something in Jean. ‘You seem on edge. Not yourself.’
Jean’s skirt strains as she straddles Ava. ‘Well, maybe you can think of a way to help me relax.’
Ava rests an automatic hand against Jean’s back, the other stroking her thigh. But there’s nothing sexual in her touch. No attempt to advance upwards, inwards. And though her face is mere inches from Jean’s breasts, she looks at them without seeing. ‘This is what I’m talking about. You’re taking the lead, which would ordinarily be hot, but you’re not even a little bit turned on. Don’t argue,’ she says when Jean opens her mouth. ‘I know your body well enough to tell the difference.’
The fight melts out of Jean as she sighs, sitting on Ava’s lap so they’re eye to eye. ‘My old boss, Will Decker. He died yesterday.’
‘Oh my god.’ Ava’s arms lock tight around Jean, pulling her close. And Jean buries her face in the thicket of hair, breathing in cedar and the subtle macadamia scent of Ava’s curl cream. ‘I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible shock.’
‘Not really. Old men have strokes every day.’
There’s surprise in the tightening of Ava’s shoulders, so brief that Jean could almost have imagined it. ‘Well. I think you’re in need of a self-care night. We could curl up on the sofa and watch mindless television. Iri’s shut on Mondays, but I could get us a munchy box from the kebab shop. What do you say?’
It’s not an unappealing thought. And Jean can’t find it in herself to resist. They spend an evening bingeingDamages– Jean is entranced by the connection between Patty and Ellen – and greasy carbohydrates, then curl up in Ava’s bed.
