Guilt Read online

  ‘Something cropped up with my mother’s work, at short notice,’ he says.

  ‘Really?’ I try to stop my voice sounding waspish. But I’m not sure I manage. ‘I’m confused. I’ve just found out your parents aren’t listed in the medical year book.’

  His eyes flatten. ‘They’re not medics.’

  ‘You said they were.’

  He pushes some hair that has flopped across his forehead away from his eyes. ‘You must have assumed they were medics.’ He pauses. ‘I said they were doctors.’

  I try to focus my mind back to our first meal out together. I was sure he said his dad was an obs and gynae consultant and that his mother was in community medicine. Maybe I didn’t hear him properly.

  ‘You’ve got it mixed up,’ he continues. ‘I never said they were medics. They are doctors, PhD doctors. Into scientific research.’

  I so want to believe him, it hurts.

  ‘What’s their speciality, so I can look them up? I mean, they’re your parents, Sebastian. I love you. I want to know about them.’

  ‘You won’t find them on the internet. They work at Porton Down. Their work is confidential. I’m sorry, Zara, if I misled you. It’s because their work is sensitive.’

  ‘But, but,’ I splutter, ‘why didn’t you let me know that you weren’t going?’

  His face crumples. ‘I’m sorry.’ There is a pause. ‘I told you before about the blackness. Sometimes I just need time alone.’

  He gets up from the sofa and moves towards me. ‘Now you are here, can I persuade you to stay the night?’

  As he takes me in his arms and kisses me, I melt inside.

  41

  Miranda

  As I walk back to my desk after our cross-departmental meeting, I see Sebastian slipping across the office towards the coffee machine, treating me to a snake-like grin. After the debacle of his aborted trip to the Lake District, I thought Zara would see sense and begin to mistrust him – but unfortunately she seems to be more embroiled in him than ever.

  She wanted to know if I minded him continuing to live with us if he paid a bit more rent. I didn’t really know how to say no, so I acquiesced. Pretending to ignore him, as I always want to spend less time with him, not more, I turn my computer on. Twenty emails that need dealing with have come in over the last hour. I groan inside. One day. One day it would be nice not to be so busy. I start trawling through them. Then a new one pings.

  ! Important. Anastasia Sudbury.

  She wants to see me in her room immediately. However much I have to do, I can’t refuse.

  I arrive as requested, and I am kept waiting fifteen minutes. Not too bad for Anastasia Important Sudbury. When her PA finally invites me to enter her office I find her sitting behind her desk, whippet thin, wearing a painted-on grey dress. Despite her unsuitable attire her face is so stern she looks as if she is about to attend a funeral.

  ‘Sit down,’ she commands.

  I obey, dropping into the low-level chair in front of her desk. She looks down at me over the top of half-rim specs.

  ‘Have you any idea why I want to see you?’ she asks.

  I shake my head, slowly.

  ‘I have evidence you wrote an unpleasant email, and tried to pass it off as Sebastian’s.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ I reply.

  ‘Maybe you didn’t quite hear me. I have evidence. I know you’re an accountant not a lawyer, but even so you must know what that means.’ She leans forwards with granite eyes. ‘The IT department has traced the supposed attachment from Sebastian back to your computer. Have you anything to say for yourself?’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Fine.’

  She taps on her laptop keys; and then turns the screen towards me. An email from Sebastian bad-mouthing one of our major clients. This is madness. How dare she accuse me of this?

  ‘I didn’t write it. I didn’t send it,’ I splutter.

  ‘The IT department have traced it. It definitely came from your IP address.’

  I can’t believe this is happening. I pinch myself to try and check whether it is a dream. It hurts. This is happening. This is real.

  ‘You’ve got to believe me; I’ve been set up. I had nothing to do with this.’

  ‘I am willing,’ Anastasia says very grandly, flourishing her right arm in the air, ‘to overlook this just the once.’ She pauses. ‘The email chain has been deleted. Sebastian dealt with it as soon as he saw it. We told the clients we had been hacked, and that we have now upgraded our security.’ She leans back in her chair expansively. ‘You are a good worker. We don’t want to lose you just because you may be having a domestic wrangling with your sister’s boyfriend. Just make sure nothing like this ever happens again.’

  42

  Zara

  It’s my turn to ‘cook’ tonight. I have bought three M&S ready meals for £10, and a small bag of frozen peas. I have put them in the carefully pre-heated oven, so now all I have to do is shove the peas in the microwave four minutes before we eat. Sebastian has laid the table. Chores done. Time for a drink.

  ‘What’s your poison?’ Sebastian asks.

  ‘Vodka, I think.’

  ‘Vodka shots? Vodka and tonic, vodka and orange? Vodka and ice?’

  ‘Let’s not dilute it. Let’s go for shots.’

  We snuggle up together on Miranda’s brown leather sofa and start to drink. One shot down, I can already feel the warmth slipping down my throat.

  ‘I got a distinction for my puppet project,’ I tell him.

  He grins from ear to ear, looking so genuinely pleased for me. He pours two more shots. We down them in one.

  ‘I told you when you were making it how clever you were. Clever. Clever. Clever. Do you remember?’

  Another shot.

  ‘Course I remember.’ I pause. ‘Miranda will be pleased. I can’t wait to tell her.’

  ‘Frosty face Cunningham. She’s never pleased about anything.’

  ‘Frosty face? What’s she done to deserve a name like that?’

  I lean towards him to see the expression on his face.

  ‘Your sister’s a difficult bitch,’ he says matter-of-factly.

  His face is serious. His eyes don’t even have their usual twinkle. My stomach churns. Somewhere, buried deep in the narrowest crevices of my mind, do I sometimes agree with him? I push the feeling away.

  ‘You’re always complaining about her, and she’s so kind to you, letting you more or less live in her flat. What has she done to rile you?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t trust her.’

  I move away from him slightly. ‘You don’t trust her? The person I’ve trusted all my life?’

  His face is still deadly serious. Serious and intense. I look into his eyes. Dark resinous eyes.

  ‘Your attitude makes me feel uncomfortable,’ I tell him.

  ‘And I feel uncomfortable with hers,’ he replies.

  He fills our shot glasses again. The vodka is relaxing me. Diluting his words.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I ask calmly.

  ‘Nothing we need to bore you with. Something at work.’

  ‘You always seem to get on well enough when we’re all together in the flat.’

  ‘It’s what goes on behind your back,’ he says with a cavalier grin.

  Suddenly I feel cold inside. He pulls me towards him and kisses me. I taste the vodka on his breath. The coldness in my heart freezes, and my heart stops for a second. What are you doing, Miranda? Are you coming on to him behind my back? Coming on to him at work? I bite my lip. No. Miranda Cunningham. You are as straight as a die. You would never do that.

  43

  Miranda

  I am so angry with Sebastian. He must have set me up. He could easily have got into my computer at home, or at work. I have tightened up my password security. Now my computer is like Fort Knox.

  ‘Good morning,’ he smoulders as he walks towards our desk. Slow and deliberate.

  What does he think he is? Sex on a sti
ck? He sits down. As usual I edge my chair as far away from him as possible. He grins at me. A slow leering grin. He shakes his head.

  ‘Anastasia is pretty disgusted by what you did. You’ve got to be more professional about working with me.’ he says, sliding closer towards me again, overdosing me with an aroma of mint. He must have just cleaned his teeth.

  ‘What I did?’ I glare at him and stare him out.

  For once I win. He pulls his eyes away first.

  But I am over-aware of him as he sits at the screen of his laptop, frowning and staring, occasionally typing an amendment.

  The phone on his desk rings. He picks up. ‘Hello Anastasia,’ he says, voice throaty and deep. ‘Of course. I’ll come to your office immediately.’ He stands up, raises his eyebrows and announces, ‘Anastasia wants to see me. Do you think she’s going to promote me?’

  ‘If she is the company has more money than sense.’

  ‘Thanks Miranda, for the help and encouragement. I appreciate it so much.’

  As he saunters across the office, grinning at his own sophisticated wit, my dislike for him rises like a volcano inside me. I look across to his part of the desk and see he’s left his computer on.

  Two can play your game, Sebastian, I say to myself through gritted teeth.

  I reach for his computer to see what he’s been doing, click on the document he’s working on and alter the numbers a bit.

  44

  Zara

  Miranda looks more serious than ever at the moment – a sour look on her face. Mouth turned down. Sebastian is quirky and awkward whenever she is around. I am sitting on the toilet in our bathroom with the lid closed, having a break from them both, contemplating their relationship. Contemplating the way Miranda avoids touching Sebastian or looking him in the eye. The way he pushes normal conversation away and relies on sarcasm when she is in the room. Why is he using sarcasm to protect himself? What is he protecting himself from? What can I do to bring them together? Is the distance between them my fault?

  I take my blade out from inside my iPhone cover and put a ligature around my wrist, ready to cut. I hold the blade in my trembling hand and sit awhile, looking at the line of scars on my left arm. I breathe in deeply and out again, to prepare myself. I cross my legs. I press my left arm hard against my slightly raised leg. I bend forwards to steady my arm. My right hand moves down ready to cut. But something stops me. I can’t quite manage it. My body isn’t ready for the pain. Not yet.

  I close my eyes and think about Sebastian’s face at the point of climax. Then I open my eyes and cut. I cut the second scar down from my wrist. Blood seeps out. Slowly at first. Then a line. A river. Oh the sweet, sweet euphoria of blood.

  45

  Miranda

  Sitting at my desk at work, smiling inside. When should I draw attention to Sebastian’s mistake? A frisson of excitement rises in my stomach.

  The phone on my desk rings. I pick up. Anastasia.

  ‘Miranda, I need you in my office immediately.’

  Perhaps she has discovered it already and needs someone to put it right. I feel triumphant. I’ve got him this time. I sense his eyes following me as I leave my desk.

  As soon as I arrive outside her office, her usually overprotective PA ushers me in.

  Anastasia. Cold-eyed and straight-lipped, as usual. Wearing a black pantaloon suit with a large gold chain around her neck. Strawberry blonde hair tied in an elegant chignon, at the back of her neck. We sit opposite one another, one on each side of her desk, eyeballs locked.

  ‘What I am going to say to you, Miranda, is extremely serious.’

  My insides tighten. My heart pulses.

  ‘I’m giving you your first written warning of dismissal.’

  Her words punch into me, winding me. She hands me a manila envelope with my name typed on the front.

  ‘But why?’ I ask struggling to breathe properly.

  ‘You infiltrated Sebastian’s computer.’

  ‘No I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh yes you did.’

  There is a pause.

  ‘Do you want a pantomime conversation?’ she asks.

  I do not reply.

  ‘Please accept what I said,’ she continues. ‘Sebastian filmed it on his iPhone. He was on his way to see me. He had forgotten part of the paperwork we needed to go through so he walked back towards his desk, to collect it. When he was halfway back across the office, he noticed you were typing on his computer. So he got his iPhone out and filmed it. He came straight to me with this. And now we’ve checked the figures and they are all obviously wrong. The tax liability data for a very big client. This is a serious breach. I’ve downloaded the film of your actions onto my computer. Let me show you.’

  She turns her computer screen around, and sure enough, it shows me leaning across my desk, reaching for Sebastian’s computer and changing the data. Sebastian must have left his computer open on purpose, hoping I would do something stupid like that. I am mortified. How could I have let Sebastian goad me into doing something as stupid as this?

  ‘We have already had a previous incident, which we have overlooked. Two more warnings and you’re out.’ Panic simmers throughout my body. ‘I am sure you were made aware of the terms and conditions when you joined the company,’ Anastasia continues.

  I try to contain the panic and think rationally. There is only one solution. I need to explain.

  ‘The first incident wasn’t me,’ I splutter, voice weak and breathless. ‘It must have been Sebastian.’ Anastasia’s cold eyes harden. ‘I shouldn’t have tried to get my own back; it was very wrong,’ I continue. ‘But I love my job. Please give me another chance and let this go.’ She is disregarding what I say, looking beyond me. Not concentrating. I must try harder. I lean towards her.

  ‘Sebastian and I have been having a few problems.’

  A flicker of interest. Her eyes lighten. She leans forward across her desk. Over the pile of reports in front of her.

  ‘What sort of problems?’ she asks.

  If I tell her about the sexual harassment, surely that would make her understand how serious this is? How vulnerable I am.

  But then I think about you, Zara. So much more vulnerable than me. And Anastasia’s question remains unanswered. I cannot bring myself to tell her.

  She leans back in her chair. ‘I can’t give you another chance. It’s company policy. There’s nothing I can do,’ she says, closing the file on the desk in front of her.

  I leave Anastasia’s office feeling bereft. The world I have built for myself crashing around my feet.

  46

  Zara

  Miranda has been in bed all weekend. I’ve been into her room a few times to check up on her and find out how she is feeling. All she says is that she’s tired, that she wants to catch up on her sleep.

  It is so unlike Miranda to be tired. She usually has so much energy. In the last ten years, as far as I know, she hasn’t had a day off work. Over the weekend while she has been incapacitated, Sebastian and I have been all over town. Saturday night supper at Luigi’s. Sunday lunch at Arnolfini; afterwards wandering about holding hands, admiring the artwork. But all our activities haven’t assuaged my worry. So on Sunday evening, getting ready for bed, I know Sebastian and I need to discuss this.

  ‘What’s the matter with her? This isn’t like her. Do you think she’s really ill? Do you think she’s all right?’ I ask as I struggle to pull off my skin-tight jeans.

  His face solidifies. ‘I was waiting for her to tell you herself,’ he says. ‘She’s low. She’s in big trouble at work.’

  His words cut into me like electricity. Miranda Cunningham. Big trouble at work. Miranda has always taken her career so seriously.

  My jeans are finally on the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed in my top and knickers, looking across at him, wide-eyed.

  ‘But she loves her job. What’s happened?’ I stutter.

  He comes to sit next to me on the bed. ‘I’m sorry to tell you she was caugh
t deliberately changing data on my computer.’

  I stare at him. ‘But why?’

  ‘In an attempt to make me look incompetent.’

  ‘Why would she want to do that?’

  He puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘I keep trying to tell you, Zara, she’s jealous of our relationship. She’s trying to prise us apart. We mustn’t allow her to.’ He pauses. ‘We need to fight back.’

  He takes my hand and squeezes it triumphantly.

  ‘My relationship with my sister has never been a fight,’ I tell him, feeling empty inside.

  47

  Miranda

  The supposed joy of Christmas is incubating around me, irritating me with its false joviality. Piped carols floating towards me from charity collectors and bars. Electric lights glinting at me from the naked arms of the birch trees on Harbourside, the neon-dappled water at night prettier than ever. Cold air pecking at my face as I rush to work.

  Zara, I still haven’t told you what happened at work. I can’t. I’m too ashamed. So ashamed that the first weekend after it happened I had to take to my bed. What I did was so stupid and childish. You look at me from time to time, askance, and I know that Sebastian has told you. Let’s keep it like that. You know. We don’t need to discuss it. I’m burying it. Burying it so deep no one will ever find it, and it will never happen again. In time the warning will fade from my record, and I can have a fresh start.

  Zara, you have managed to nag me into having a Christmas party, of all things. At first I resisted. I am not at all in the mood for Christmas. But you were so insistent that in the end I relented. You think having a party will cheer me up. Maybe I should try and let it. Sebastian has brewed his mulled wine recipe, filling our flat with the scent of orange, clove and cinnamon. Far too sweet for me.

  ‘The secret is taking your time over this and reducing it properly,’ he says with a wink.