The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching Page 6

  I know I’ve gone too far when he strides towards me and I see the rage in his eyes. I catch my breath because I’ve never seen him this angry before and his fists are balled tightly as he pushes me roughly back against the pillow. “You don’t talk to me that way, never talk to me like that again or…”

  “Or what, Ronnie? What will you do?”

  I stare at him defiantly and he raises his fist to my face and I feel myself shaking as he growls, “Never mind what I’ll do, just don’t, ok. I’m sick of it. Sick of people thinking they can talk to me how they want. Sick of being dismissed as a nobody and talked down to if they bother to talk to me at all. Sick of being pushed around as if my life doesn’t matter and sick of this bloody farce we call a marriage.”

  I feel myself shaking as I see the wild look in his eyes. He’s on the edge and I never even knew. Then again, why would I, we never spend any time together, so how would I know?

  I feel the tears building as he releases me and pushes me roughly back against the pillows. “Get dressed and clear this mess up. I’m going out.”

  I watch in disbelief as he reaches for the discarded clothes on the end of the bed and storms off to the bathroom and my hand flies to my throat as I sense the lucky escape I’ve just had. Ronnie has never been so physical before. It’s as if he changed before my eyes and I don’t like what he became.

  It must be only ten minutes later that the door slams and I watch him jump in his cab and leave and I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God. He’s gone and the relief hits me hard. From nowhere the tears come, relentless and unstoppable as they drown my pillow with despair. What just happened? It all started so innocently and now look.

  It takes me a while to piece together the events of the last hour and as I do, the anger returns. How dare he treat me like that? There’s something very wrong with Ronnie and I have a dull ache where love once sat in my heart for the man I married all those years ago.

  Move to Lancashire – with Ronnie. Not bloody likely.

  11

  Ronnie doesn’t come back. In fact, Sunday passes, and every noise sets me on edge. The sound of a car driving past, or the crunch of gravel outside. A banging door, or a siren all make my senses tingle as I sense an approaching storm.

  Even at night, I shake in my bed as I wait for him to return. However, as the hours tick by, it becomes apparent he’s staying away and nobody is more pleased about that than me.

  Monday morning comes and I watch the breakfast news with half of my attention. However, I look up in disbelief as they announce another missing person. A young woman who was reported to have never returned home after meeting a mystery man from the internet. This doesn’t sound good and I watch as the presenter gravely tells the nation the details of yet another unsolved disappearance. There are four girls missing this year already and the police are treating them as linked and my mouth dries as I think about the prospect of a serial killer on the loose. All of the women come from London except for one from Oxford. It could be a coincidence, but by the looks on the faces of the presenters, they are fearing the worst.

  Shivering with a sudden fear, I turn my attention to the job in hand. I need to gather as much information for Mr Landon as possible because he will want something so good, he won’t have any choice but to hire me.

  This time as I make my way into Barrington’s, it’s the owner Calvin Hunter who greets me. “Morning, Emma, it’s a cold one today.”

  “Morning, where’s Leah?”

  “Called in sick. She thinks it’s flu but you know her, she’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

  Feeling a little annoyed that I have to work with Calvin, I say sympathetically, “I hope she’s ok.”

  He just grunts and sets about filling the coffee machine, and I turn my attention to the business of the day.

  By the time mid-morning comes, I am so tired I need a break. There’s a slight lull, so Calvin grants me ten minutes to grab a coffee and take the weight off my feet.

  As I do, I surf the internet for the information I need and feel excited about what I may discover.

  As I sit there in silence, a loud voice makes me listen. Two women are gossiping at a table nearby and one says, “Terrible about the missing girls. What do you think?”

  “Sounds fishy to me. Nathan told me I’m not to walk on my own anywhere. He said it’s the same man, he’s sure of it.”

  Her friend gasps, “Really, oh my god, this is bad. I work nights at the Blue Star and always grab a cab home. What if it’s a cab driver, I’m not safe?”

  I say nothing and just stare ahead, a cold feeling washing through me like icy water, freezing my senses and planting images in my mind that have no reason being there. I can’t shake the horrible feeling inside me as I picture Ronnie in his rage. Suddenly, every conversation we’ve had fills my mind and I picture the furtive looks and the uncomfortable silences as he hides something from me.

  I feel sick as I think thoughts that should never enter my mind. I feel disgusted with myself for even entertaining the idea that my husband is somehow involved, but everything is adding up fast and I’m not prepared to face what it reveals. Could it be Ronnie – surely not?

  I work as if on autopilot, and when Claire Quinn comes in, I feel a little worried that she will recognise me. However, my fears are unfounded because as usual nobody does. I am the grey woman to the grey man. Invisible and a mere presence, not an actual person. I walk in the shadows of other people’s lives and have no life of my own to shout about. Nobody sees me because I shrink away into my own little world. I am a nothing, a nobody and the only words I hear are demands for my product or service. Is this what Ronnie feels like when he drives people around? Do they see him, I doubt it, we are cut from the same cloth and people like us don’t draw attention to themselves? We have nothing to shout about anyway, so we listen. Watch and listen and move in the shadows where the invisible people live.

  As I watch the workers from Crossline, I see a world I want to be a part of. I want conversation and shared lunches. I want to feel respected and valued and part of a team. I want the material things that come with the huge salary they earn, and I want to upload photos to Facebook of me in exotic locations. Surely it’s not too much to ask – is it?

  Calvin is nowhere near as much fun as Leah, and I’m glad when it’s time to head across the road to Crossline. However, even that walk is filled with trepidation because of Declan Cole. I’ve been lucky so far, but I know it’s just a matter of time before he settles up with me. I know he’s angry, I haven’t missed the fury in his eyes and the promise of revenge for setting off the fire alarm, which gave him a lot of paperwork to file and he had to be quick on his feet thinking up a reason why the alarm was broken in the first place.

  No, I am on borrowed time as far as he’s concerned and I approach the building with extreme caution.

  However, it’s not Declan sitting in his usual place, but a stranger. An older man who looks bored and surly. He looks up as I approach and nods as I wave my pass in front of him. I have to know and say timidly, “No Declan tonight.”

  His eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

  As I move past, I take with me a feeling of foreboding. Something’s happened.

  As I reach my locker, I see Becky stowing her handbag and she nods. “Hey, Emma. Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  Once again, my heart thumps wildly inside me as I think I already know what her answer will be.

  “Lisa’s been fired along with Declan that creepy security guard.”

  She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Apparently they were caught on CCTV in an extremely compromising position. It’s all around the building, can you believe it?”

  Leaning against my locker, I say weakly, “I can’t, poor Lisa.”

  Becky nods. “I heard she couldn’t care less. Apparently, she was about to hand in her resignation, anyway. She told me last night she had a new job lined up in Selfridges. I’m not sur
e Declan is so happy, though.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, my mum works in the canteen and she saw him get his marching orders. He was escorted out by security and everything. She heard him shout they hadn’t seen the last of him and he wasn’t going quietly. Can you imagine, I would have loved to see that.”

  I feel weak as I picture him angry and out for revenge. I just hope he didn’t find out it was me who told on him because if that’s the case, I should watch my back.

  Becky carries on chatting, seemingly oblivious to any worries I may have. “So, Miriam told me I was on your floor and you’re on exec. Lucky you, I’d kill to do that floor, it must be so nice to sift through the bins of the affluent.”

  She winks and heads off and I feel sick. It was one thing going up there as a job applicant, but now I’m returning in my usual role I’m not so brazen. What if they monitor the CCTV and see me cleaning the very offices I want to inhabit? I’m guessing I wouldn’t get the job then.

  However, I carry out my duties on autopilot as I think of ways to impress my hoped-for new boss. What would impress him? So far, I can’t see how anything would, but he may be interested in some juicy titbit.

  As I work, I plot and look for little nuggets of inspiration in every corner, on every surface and inside every waste paper bin on the executive floor.

  Then my luck changes.

  As I make my way out of the final room, I hear voices approaching. Quickly, I put my head down and push my trolley in the opposite direction but look in the mirrored glass of the office door to see who it is. I recognise Mr Slater, the man responsible for heading up asset management and a man I’ve never seen before. They are deep in conversation and don’t even glance my way. I am invisible to them as usual, and for once I’m extremely glad of it.

  They head into Mr Slater’s office and I wonder what’s going on. The man with him didn’t look like the usual office worker, if anything, he looked a little shady. Maybe it was his dark European looks and casual clothes but it struck me as odd, anyway.

  Moving to the office next door, I am aware they share a Jack and Jill bathroom. It’s common in the executive offices, they have all the mod cons and I carefully push the door open and venture inside, hoping to hear their conversation without being discovered. I’m in luck as the door is open slightly and I hold my breath as I stand to the side behind the door and listen.

  “Do you have the information I requested?”

  The stranger speaks in a thick accent, and Mr Slater nods and slides an envelope across the desk. “It’s all here, do you have my money?”

  I watch as the stranger slides a similar envelope across and Mr Slater removes a piece of paper from it and smiles with satisfaction. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Sergio. Remember, you never heard that from me.”

  I watch as Mr Slater pours them both a glass of what appears to brandy from the decanter on his desk and raises his glass in a toast. “To future business.”

  Sergio clinks his glass and says thickly, “The money has been deposited off shore as agreed. The trail leads to an investment company in Mexico and is so tied up in red tape, it would take a genius to unravel it.”

  Mr Slater laughs. “I hope so, for both our sakes. If Julian got wind of this, I’d be up on charges quicker than the deposit reaches my bank.”

  Sergio laughs and then stands. “I should go. It was risky coming here at all, but my man has assured me the files will be wiped.”

  Mr Slater nods. “We were lucky that fool of a security guard got fired today. It was the perfect opportunity to replace him with one of ours. You know, sometimes the safest place to hide is in the eye of the storm.”

  The men laugh and head towards the door and I feel my legs shaking with fear. What if they saw me? That was no normal business meeting, that’s for sure.

  I wait until I hear the lift ping and look at my stricken face in the mirror. If they see the CCTV, they will know I was here. What if their security guard saw me watching? I’m in danger and I’m not sure what to do about it. Luckily, the bathrooms have no cameras, but they would have seen that I was in here. I might get away with it but then again…

  Suddenly, I don’t feel so sure of myself, so I quickly gather my things and head for the lift. I need to get some distance between me and Crossline because this is all getting a little too hot to handle.

  I make my way to my locker and quickly grab my things. I don’t hang around because the sooner I’m safely at home the better.

  12

  When I get home, Ronnie is waiting.

  My heart sinks as I anticipate another argument and as days go, this one is turning out to be one of a kind.

  However, the Ronnie that’s waiting is a different one to the man who left and he smiles his apology. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, babe. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Throwing my bag on the counter, I say sadly, “You scared me, Ronnie.”

  He looks upset and I’m almost tempted to forgive him, but what would that achieve? So, I just reach for the kettle and sigh wearily. “The thing is, I don’t feel as if I know you anymore. I don’t think I know myself either. What’s happening to us?”

  He nods. “I agree.”

  His voice is soft and a little lost, and it strikes me just how far we’ve fallen as a couple.

  Turning to face him, I smile weakly. “What’s happening to us?”

  He moves across and pulls me to his chest as he has a thousand times before. Then he strokes the back of my head gently and murmurs, “I love you, Emma.”

  Pulling back, I look at him in shock because I can’t remember when I last heard him say those words. He smiles ruefully at my expression. “I do, I promise that at least, it’s just that well…”

  “Well what, Ronnie?”

  I keep my voice low and even because I need us to talk. I must break down this barrier between us because it’s destroying the people we once were.

  “I’m sorry, the thing is, life hasn’t exactly gone as I planned it.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He pulls away and I immediately regret my words. I watch the shutters closing him down and he says lightly, “It’s fine, nothing to tell really. Anyway, I came home to spend an evening with my wife for a change. Tell me about your day.”

  I swallow hard because what on earth can I say about my crazy day? Oh, I eavesdropped on a couple of men conducting a shady deal and will probably snitch on them to the man I want to be my new boss, or I got two people fired today because I ratted them out to the same man. I expect they will all now be out to get me and to top it all, I think you may be the man responsible for the disappearance of all those girls lately. Nothing much, same old.

  Instead, I just shrug, “Nothing to tell really.”

  I quickly change the subject and reach for the fridge door. “Well, as you’re home, maybe we can eat together for once. It’s only sausages and oven chips, is that ok?”

  He smiles a little wistfully and nods. “Perfect.”

  He pours me a glass of wine and grabs himself a beer and settles down in front of the television. As I prepare the basic meal, I watch him carefully. He looks normal enough; nothing like a man who would prey on women. I feel a little foolish for thinking it was him at all, but I can’t drive the image from my mind about the woman in the pub. There was something so desperate about her and he was angry, I could tell. Are they having an affair, or is it something else? One thing’s for sure, I appear to have lost sight of my husband and the same for him. We have grown apart and live like strangers.

  As evenings go, it’s a little frustrating. On the one hand, it’s good to have some company and is almost like old times. Neither of us mention the reason for the argument, and I hope he’s given up on the idea. Once I’ve washed the dishes, I snuggle down next to him on the sofa and we watch a thriller on the television. It feels nice doing such a normal thing because I can’t remember when we last did.

/>   Then we head off to bed and as he holds me tenderly in his arms, I feel the familiar feelings return that I thought were lost forever. Ronnie makes love to me so tenderly it makes my heart sing. Can we rescue our marriage, it certainly feels that way now? Only time will tell because one’s things certain, I am going for that job and am definitely not moving to Lancashire.

  Over the next few days, I get my head down and prepare for the interview and swot up on anything I think will help me. When I finish, I know Crossline Wealth Management like the back of my hand and have listened in on every conversation I can in Barrington’s and filtered every piece of waste from the offices that I stole. I’ve surfed the internet and made notes and consulted best interview practice, and if I’m not ready now, I never will be.

  So, Wednesday comes and brings with it a lot of trepidation. To take my mind off it, I work in the morning pleading a dental appointment in the afternoon. I don’t feel bad about lying because everyone does when they have an interview – don’t they?

  I brought my suit and make-up with me and make sure to head to a nearby hotel to get ready in their public conveniences. Then I sit in the coffee shop around the corner and mentally prepare myself. I can’t let this opportunity go, it’s become the most important thing in my life and I have a feeling that this job could change it forever.

  So, at precisely 3.45, I head inside Crossline and walk purposefully towards the reception, just praying that nobody will recognise me in my smart suit with my hair down and styled properly.

  I sign in and am instructed to take a seat in the reception area. Trying not to look anyone in the eye, I stare down at my notes and wonder if I’ve read this situation right. Digging up dirt goes against everything Mr Landon said to me and yet I’m not stupid, I know what was meant by his comment. He wants more, but is he prepared for what I’m about to say?