The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching Read online

  I hold my breath as she laughs softly. “Me too, babe. Have you heard from, William?”

  Her conversation switches to another subject and I carry the tray laden with dirty mugs and plates back to the dishwasher. Notice - one month – she’s leaving.

  I feel a tingle of excitement as I sense change coming. Claire Quinn, personal assistant for the past five years to Julian Landon, is leaving. He won’t like that, I’m sure of it. During the last five years I’ve built up quite the information database on the impressive Mr Landon, and I know he’s a man who likes control. If his pa is leaving, it will force change and I’m guessing he will be angry at that. Even I can tell that Claire is good at her job. She is efficient, calm, controlled and polite. She carries out her role with good grace and a professionalism I aspire to everyday. I hear her conversations with her fellow workers and see the looks she receives in return. They are every bit as impressed with her as I am; I see it in their eyes and now she’s leaving.

  The news stirs something deep inside me. It’s a feeling that’s been growing for the last year or so that started with a small seed that has taken root and is now growing out of control. The seed of change that involves my own life. I’m not sure when the idea first hit me, but over the past few months it has increasingly occupied my mind.

  I want more.

  More than the life I have, more than the jobs I work hard at, more from my marriage and more than just routine in my life. I want what these people have, and I want the excitement that goes with it. Can I force change, am I really that brave? Dare I raise my head over the parapet and face the enemy head on?

  Claire Quinn is leaving and I know this is my chance. I have prepared for this day and so, with an excitement that threatens to take me under, I make a decision. It’s time.

  As soon as I step foot over the threshold of my next port of call for the day, I feel different. This time I envisage myself entering these premises and making a different type of journey. Instead of heading to the basement, I see myself taking the elevator to the highest floor. Walking the carpeted hallways of the executive offices and taking my seat as the personal assistant to the most powerful man in the building. Yes, I dare to dream because I have thought of little else since lunchtime. It’s a dream I never dared imagine, and now the idea is planted, it’s taking off like a rocket.

  “Evening, Emma.”

  As I head toward my locker, I see Lisa, my co-worker already shrugging into her overalls.

  “I’m just not in the mood tonight, it’s too cold and I think I’m coming down with that virus everyone’s talking about.”

  Shaking my head, I bite back a smile. As hypochondriacs go, Lisa is one of the best.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, maybe you should have called in sick.”

  “I wish I had that luxury. My rent’s due, there’s nothing in the fridge and I’ve seen a cute little skirt I want to buy online.”

  Grinning, I raise my eyes. “Oh, and Declan’s back from holiday.”

  She pretends to look surprised.

  “Is he, I didn’t know?”

  She has the grace to blush and I roll my eyes and turn away, stifling a grin. Lisa and Declan, the security guard in charge of the night shift, have the hots for each other and indulge their desires most nights. Lisa works the executive offices and I clean the ones on the floor below. I’ve seen Declan head up to find her on the premise of checking the offices. He takes exactly five minutes to check my floor and thirty to complete his sweep of the executive offices. Yes, Declan and Lisa have it all their own way and I couldn’t care less. To my knowledge, they are both free agents and can do what they like. I suppose it’s only a matter of time before they make it official, but it just reinforces the fact that everyone else is having a good time where I am not.

  Although, I’m glad it’s her rather than me because I’ve always found Declan a little creepy. He has those eyes that strip you bare and proposition you with no words spoken. I’ve heard stories of him at Barrington’s from the junior secretaries, all convinced he’s the man of their dreams. I suppose he’s good looking in a bad boy sort of way. Rugged and dominant, the usual alpha male that the girls appear to love these days. I’m guessing he spends more time in the gym than at work because he always looks pumped and ready to crush an opponent into dust should the need arise. Yes, Declan Cole is the sort of man that drives women’s fantasies and Lisa is no exception it would seem.

  Sighing to myself, I grab my cleaning trolley and head to the elevators. By now the offices should be clear, and if anyone’s working late, I concentrate on the empty desks first. I watch Lisa head off with her trolley to the second bank of elevators, which lead to the executive offices. They even have their own method of transport there, which levitates them above the rest of the lowly workforce. I wonder what it’s like up there, maybe one day I’ll get to work that floor? If I have my way, I will be doing a very different job to the one I have now. Fingers crossed, anyway.

  3

  Tonight, as I work, I have a different job on my mind. Somehow, I need to apply for the position of Julian Landon’s pa and it won’t be easy.

  As I clean the offices belonging to the staff of the man himself, I try to build a picture of the company I seek to join.

  Waste bins are usually good information dumps, and I make sure to sift through every one of them for something that may help me.

  I’ve amassed quite the database over the past year and passwords, telephone numbers and juicy titbits of gossip, have found their way into my notebook one way or another. I’m always careful not to be discovered as I enter the security code to a filing cabinet, or a password to the computer system. I’m not sure why I started doing it; maybe subconsciously it was for this very reason – to ease my application in securing the job I desire more than anything right now.

  The sky is dark outside and the strip lighting of the office reveals my sad reflection as I work in the empty space. Silence is all around me, unless you count the sirens and general traffic outside of the city that never sleeps.

  I match up the photos on the desks with the customers in Barrington’s. For instance, Joey Matthews is seeing Katie Evans from accounting and I know she is married. I see the crumpled notes in the bins as they resort to the old-fashioned way of communicating, never dreaming for one moment that their rubbish would be so incriminating.

  I know that Fenella Sullivan is planning on resigning because her boss is intimidating her and bullies her every hour of the day. I see the drafted letter detailing every conversation and reprimand given. They are then screwed into a ball and re-written as even more ammunition is added to the charge sheet.

  Her boss, Miles Sinclair, is an oily piece of filth whose main ambition is to make it upstairs to the executive offices. He is currently pursuing Alice Vander Woods, who is the HR manager’s assistant. His own wife and baby beam proudly from the silver frame on his desk, but I hear the conversation the two of them share when they think no one is listening as they hide from view in the corner booth in Barrington’s.

  Yes, I know everything about these people and could write a book on what goes on here. The trouble is, nobody would believe a word of it because it’s so explosive, even I would doubt its authenticity.

  However, now I need to put my knowledge to the test and use it to get me what I want because I will only get one shot and I can’t afford to miss.

  By the time I make it home, I’m exhausted. Ronnie left a couple of hours ago and I sigh as I re-heat the ready meal we appear to live on these days. I know Ronnie grabs something out most nights and I’m usually so tired, food is the last thing on my mind.

  However, tonight I have an extra shot of adrenalin and as soon as I’ve eaten, open my notebook to plot my next move. I need to plan this operation with a military precision because I don’t have long. I want Claire Quinn’s job more than life itself, and if I fail, it won’t be through lack of trying.

  Once I have my plan in place, I decide to grab half
an hour of television before indulging in a long hot soak in the bath tub.

  I make a mug of tea and settle down to watch the evening news and see the poor parents of the girl who went missing. My heart goes out to them as they plead once again for their daughter’s safe return. The police officer that accompanies them looks serious and I can tell by the look in his eye he doesn’t hold out much hope. I try to remember a positive outcome of one of these conferences and come up empty and my heart sinks as I picture their future and it’s not a pleasant one.

  However, sleep soon beckons and I head off to bed. Maybe tomorrow will bring better news, I hope so, for their sakes.

  The next day it’s obvious that word’s got out because there’s a buzz of excitement in Barrington’s. The secretaries, personal assistants and receptionists are unusually talkative and as I listen in, every conversation regards the newly vacant position. I hear the receptionist Fiona Matthews discussing it with Sarah Stammers the temp from ‘Hire it.’ “You should apply, Sarah. You’ve got shed loads of experience and quite frankly, who wouldn’t want to work for Julian Landon, the man’s a god among men.”

  Sarah nods dreamily. “You can say that again. When are the applications closing?”

  “Friday. It’s on the internal vacancies board. I think they’re opening it up to staff first and then a few agencies they use. Maybe yours is one of them.”

  Sarah looks thoughtful. “I’ll call and see if they’ve heard anything. If they have, I’ll get them to push my CV their way. Oh, I’d love to work here permanently. There is so much opportunity in Crossline and to be honest, I’m bored with just being in a place a few weeks at a time. Maybe this was meant to be, you know, right place, right time.”

  They drift away and I feel anxious. Sarah is good, she’s also already proved her worth and would probably stand a good chance. Like Claire, she is presentable, efficient and easy on the eye. I’m guessing Mr Landon would be pleased as punch to have her working under him.

  I think I’m on tenterhooks all day and listen eagerly for any snippet of information that I can use to my gain.

  Claire herself appears as usual at 1.05, and orders her usual Americano with half fat milk, and I look at her with interest, trying to imagine myself in her place.

  A woman behind her in the queue taps her on the shoulder. “Hey, Claire.”

  Turning around, she smiles. “Hey, Ally, I haven’t seen you for ages, where have you been?”

  “Working in New York for Rufus Granger.”

  Claire’s eyes widen. “I forgot you landed that one. Well, what was it like?”

  The blush to her cheeks tells Claire what she wants to know, and she laughs softly. “I heard he was gorgeous. You didn’t um…”

  Shaking her head, Ally says in a shocked voice, “Good God, no, but I wouldn’t have said no if he asked.”

  They giggle like school girls, and I strain to hear every word. Ally sighs wistfully. “To be honest, I would have stayed if I could, but my visa ran out. You know, Claire, New York is such a vibrant place to work and the guys are well…”

  She fans her face and Claire raises her eyes. “Go on.”

  Ally giggles adorably. “Well, put it this way, I was in demand in more ways than one. Anyway, I’m back working on boring hedge funds and tearing my hair out, waiting until I can apply for my visa again. What about you, what’s going on, I heard you were leaving?”

  By now they’ve reached the front of the line and I say brightly, “May I take your order?”

  Claire orders her usual and says kindly, “And whatever my friend is having.”

  “Oh, thanks, I’ll have a skinny latte please.”

  I turn to make their drinks slowly, hoping they pick up where they left off and Ally says, “I heard you’re leaving, anywhere I should know about.”

  Claire laughs. “Scott has a new job in Bermuda and we’re heading out there for six months. It’s all tax free and I don’t have to work. How that’s for a result?”

  She grins and Ally looks green with envy. “You’re so lucky. Not only have you snagged the most eligible bachelor in Canary Wharf, he’s now whisking you away to paradise. Some girls have all the luck.”

  Claire smiles smugly and then my blood runs cold as she says lightly, “If you like, I’ll put in a good word with Julian. He’s pissed I’m leaving and if I tell him I’ve found the perfect replacement, he may actually be civil to me for five minutes.”

  Ally looks at her eagerly and my heart sinks. This is a disaster.

  They move away and I feel agitated. What was I thinking? I’m no match for these women. They could do this job standing on the well-styled heads. I’m just a waitress and a cleaner. Why on earth would I be chosen above them?

  Leah looks over and says with concern, “Are you ok, honey. You’ve turned a strange colour.”

  “It’s fine, maybe I just need to eat something.” I smile quickly and try to bring my head back in the game and she shakes her head. “You’ve been working for hours. Go and grab five minutes, I can hold the fort. Hailey’s just arrived, so why don’t you take a break?”

  I know it’s against the rules; none of us can skip the lunchtime rush, but I am grateful for five minutes to sort my head out, so I smile gratefully. “Thanks, I’ll just take a comfort break, I won’t be long.”

  I head off and shut myself in the ladies and try to unscramble my brain. My heart starts to slow a little as I try to calm down. Taking a few deep breaths, I give myself a stern talking to and try to think of a way out of an increasingly bad situation. I need to be clever about this. I can do this; I just need to work out how.

  Five minutes is all it takes to get my head back in the game. Yes, I can’t afford to falter because the stakes are too high. I will just need to rise above my competition, and I think I know just how I’m going to do it.

  4

  When I wake the next morning, the irritation wakes with me. I can’t believe I was so unlucky yesterday. As soon as I stepped foot inside Crossline, my supervisor cornered me and thrust a new recruit under my nose. She shadowed me for the whole evening and I was unable to gather any information at all. Lisa, as usual, disappeared off to the executive floor and I was beyond frustrated that I had to babysit a newbie.

  To add to my irritation, this morning I’m not alone because it’s Sunday and Ronnie’s home.

  He arrived home in the early hours and crawled into bed beside me. I have grown so accustomed to being alone at night, his presence is now unwelcome.

  As I move, a hand shoots out and pulls me back and he murmurs, “Don’t leave.”

  Immediately, I tense up because sex with Ronnie was not my priority today, but he is my husband and it’s been a long time.

  Inevitably we have sex as rarely as we speak these days and have settled into the role of cohabiters rather than husband and wife. However, today he appears in an amorous mood and as it’s been so long, even my libido could use being shocked back to life.

  As he kisses me deeply, I close my eyes and imagine a different mouth on mine. I see another man before me as I picture Julian Landon in my bed. The image makes me feel sexy and adventurous, and I find myself responding to a man who doesn’t even know I exist.

  As I pretend to make love to a man I could never attract in real life, I allow myself to be carried away to a world where my dreams live for most of the time. I am no longer making love to my husband, but the man I hope to call my boss one day. I imagine us locking his office door and indulging in the sins of the flesh during the working day. I groan as I picture his hard body on top of mine and imagine a time when everything is perfect with my life. However, before I even reach my own orgasm, Ronnie grunts and gets his own happy ending and rolls off, mumbling, “Sorry love, it’s been so long I couldn’t last.”

  Feeling slightly let down and a little frustrated, I just say reasonably, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  As he rolls over and reaches for his phone, I slip out of bed and into the bathro
om.

  Heading for the shower, I soap my disappointment away. I picture Julian touching my skin as I rub the lather over my body and picture him kissing me all over. As I allow the imagery to take hold, I finish what my husband started and bite my lip as I climax, picturing Julian Landon as the man who got me there.

  As the water washes away my shame, I try and get a grip. What on earth is happening to me? I’m becoming obsessed and should end this fantasy here. But I can’t. I need this. I need to reinvent myself and as I think about how I can, an unwelcome thought pops into my mind. I no longer love my husband and this could be my way out of a future so boring I can’t cope.

  As I towel myself dry, I feel on edge as I realise that this job has taken on an even greater importance. I need it to save my future because I can’t take much more of this. I must get out for my own sanity, and that job is the key to my freedom.

  As I make us breakfast, my mind goes into overdrive. What if I succeed? Would I really just walk away from my marriage – my life? It doesn’t seem possible and yet, there’s a spark of hope deep inside that refuses to die. It’s as if I’m waking from a bad dream and everything that happened before is in the past. I feel so agitated because what if… what if I fail?

  “It’s bloody raining again, typical.”

  Ronnie’s words bring me back to reality and I watch as he shuffles over to the table and flicks on the television. It’s hard to believe we had sex just twenty minutes ago because the man sitting before me could be any old stranger from Barrington’s. Like them, he doesn’t even grace me with a friendly smile or an appreciative look. He takes what he wants and gets on with his day, and I’ve had enough. So, I don’t even answer him and carry on frying eggs and trying to push down my anger. I deserve more than this; I always did. Why did I settle so quickly?

  We eat in silence as usual, and I find myself focusing on the news instead of the man before me. Once again, they are talking about Brexit and I’m bored with it. I’ll say one thing for the press. When they get a story, they run with it. It’s no wonder the public are fed up with it. The press has milked this for all it’s worth, and it’s getting boring.