– Look at her, our queen bees arrived!
– Dont get me started, Helen!
– So high and mighty. Barely returns a greeting and yet shes just nothing, really. Just wearing expensive clothes, but worth zip.
– Yeah, I know! Catherine snorted, setting her mug on the table. The day had barely started, but her head already throbbed. It certainly explains why Mr Rowland put her in charge of the department yesterday. Management must love total nobodies.
Catherine paused as a cloud flickered across Helens face. As if shed ever have that promotion Helen was never the best at anything, except resentment. Catherine had learned to keep friendly distance, fully aware how poisonous a person like that could be. Shed only tangled with Helen once, her very first week in the firm, and had made a mental note never to trust her again. Helen wasnt young anymore, but possessed that sly fox cleverness and the venom of a hundred angry wasps. Her nastiness was legendary, her motivation a mystery. Catherine hardened her smile with politeness worthy of a Jane Austen heroine and maintained an uneasy truce. Luckily, they worked in different departments and didnt often cross paths.
Catherine took another sip of her coffee and grimaced. Lukewarm and revolting. She couldnt stand instant, but fussiness at work was a luxury no one had time for. Saturday would come, and then she could make a real potthe good beans her stepmother had brought back from Kenyawith a pinch of cardamom and a drop of lemon juice, sitting for ages on the tiny balcony watching London wake up. The thought made her smile. She remembered buying her little flat; it had cost her dearly even with her fathers help, and shed picked it apart until, finally, the view from the modest, battered balcony swept away all hesitation. Sometimes a decision just felt righteven if she usually second-guessed everything.
Catherine had always been cautious, took a long time to let anyone in, and at work she kept things strictly professionalno work friendships, certainly no confidences. Her smile was polite and even, the same for everyone, including Helen.
– Come on, we best get on with it. Some people slave away and others get all the perks! Helen practically threw her rinsed mug on the drainer and stormed out of the staff kitchen.
Catherine washed her cup slowly, repeating her presentation notes in her head, when a voice behind her said, Good morning!
Turning, she found Pauline standing in the doorwaythe very target of Helens latest grudge.
Sizing up the newest object of office envy, Catherine had to admit, Helens animosity might not be wholly without cause. Few women would feel comfortable working alongside a woman as striking as Pauline. Tall, poised, gorgeous, with flawless skin and not a trace of makeup. Catherine blinked, drawn closer, wondering how anyone could look like a model first thing in the morning without help. But Paulines lashes were untouched, and her grey-blue eyesimpossible to pin down, somehowmet Catherines gaze calmly.
– Morning! Catherine finally responded, giving a nervous nod.
– Youre Catherine Harris, right? Ive got that right?
– Thats me. Call me Catherine, please. Were not exactly worlds apart in age or rank to be using surnames all day.
– Cheers. Pauline.
Paulines hand extendedunusual in this office, where handshakes were rare. Her grip was warm, surprisingly strong. Thin fingers held Catherines with brief, firm confidence, and something in Paulines handshake made her curious. If a woman had a handshake like that, it meant strengththough in what, Catherine wondered. Suddenly, she was eager to find out.
– Did you want something?
– I do, if you have a minute.
The conversation turned to work, and as Catherine listened, her curiosity bloomed. No wonder Paulines career had rocketed. She missed nothing, did everything sharply and precisely, just the way Catherine admired herself for. Pauline was proving a lot more interesting than the mornings spiteful gossip suggested.
– Youre fairly new, arent you?
– Just six months.
– Odd we havent crossed paths before.
– We have, Pauline smiled and suddenly looked years younger. The change was so quick, Catherine found herself smiling back. Only through paperwork, though. Yours are the best reports I see. Clear, no errors, everything in order. Makes my job easysaved me loads of time! Thanks.
Catherine shrugged.
– Surely everyone works that way?
– Hardly! Pauline tugged her skirt straight, standing. Thats a rare skill, believe me. I know these things.
She left, and Catherine found herself eyeing Paulines clothes. Not expensive at allneat and flattering, but nothing fancy. Another point Helen had wrong. With a frustrated huff at herself for even tolerating Helens griping, Catherine gathered her files and returned to her office, where her two male colleagues kept to themselvesjust as well, really.
From that day, Catherine found herself drawn to watching Pauline at workher measured walk through the open-plan, her calm leadership in glass-walled meetings, her composed smile for everyone, even Helen. Oddly, Helen had begun circling closer, often trying her best to befriend Pauline. The sight irritated Catherine, but she kept out of it, watching from the sidelines, arms folded. After all, they werent friends; Catherine wasnt ready for that. But months later, when a strange tension gripped the office, she found ignoring things was impossible.
It started when someoneit couldnt be anyone but Helenspotted Mr Rowland, the company owner, giving Pauline a lift in his car.
– What did I tell you? Its not about brains, just about other assets! Helen crowed in the kitchen next day, holding court over a crowd so large Catherine gaped. She abandoned all thought of coffee, turning on her heel before anyone could draw her in.
In the hallway, Pauline appeared, looking weary and lost.
– Hi.
– Hi Pauline sounded genuinely tired. She gestured towards the kitchen. Bit noisy in there today. Was just hoping for a coffee.
Catherine started to shrug, and then heard herself say quietly, I wouldnt go in there if I were you. Really dont.
Seeing Pauline freeze, Catherine instantly regretted it. Now shed have to explain? Why did she interfere? But once again, Pauline surprised hernodding once, slowly, and walking away without a word.
The entire day, Catherine struggled to concentrate, but her thoughts raced back, over and over, to that small morning scene. Oddso little was said, yet it told her more about Pauline than all her observations so far. Now curiosity tugged at her hard. But it wasnt just that. Something deeper. Something restless and unresolved inside her.
Catherine had only ever had one real friend. Veratheir childhood bonded through school and sixth form, university applicants together. But in second year, Vera had dropped out, leaving for Austria with her parents. She had two fine children now; Catherine, still in touch but rarely, flew out for a week each year and theyd sit long hours on the patio of Veras big house, talking about anything and everything to last them another twelve months. Veras husband was brilliant, took time off whenever Catherine came, looked after the kids so the two friends could cherish every moment. Catherine missed those moments fiercely; she couldnt talk so openly with anyone else.
Pauline made her think of Vera. The same reserved warmth, the reluctance to explain herself, the same cool distance with everyone except Catherine. Catherine longed to break that silence, but didnt know howthankfully Pauline didnt wait.
– Lunch?
Pauline poked her head into Catherines office. Catherine sprang to her feet, nearly tipping her chair, and gathered her bag, letting a hopeful smile flutter at her lips as they headed out together.
They chose a little bistro nearby, sat down, and ordered in awkward silence until Pauline broke it:
– Go on. Ask. I know youre curious. Pauline idly folded a napkin, her fingers fluid and deliberate. Catherine found herself hypnotised, then tucked her own hands under the table self-consciously, before scolding herself and placing them back.
– Why did you ask me to lunch? Youve never bothered before.
– I was watching. Pauline glanced at her briefly. You do the same.
Catherine said nothing. Paulines unvarnished honesty cut through her nerves. There could be no silly banter here.
– You were the only one who didn’t join the morning gossip. Why?
Paulines eyes, usually blue, seemed grey as slate for a second, and Catherine thought of the storm shed seen off Brightons coastsea and sky raging steel.
– I despise tittle-tattle and empty chat. Catherine didnt look away.
– I see. Were they gossiping about me?
– I didnt hear.
– Because you didnt want to?
– Yes.
Pauline set the paper rose shed folded on the table and folded her hands.
– Good. Im glad. I think I was right about you.
They sat a moment in easy silence, a warmth crept in, and Catherine relaxed at last. Sizing up the moment, she dove straight in:
– Not the first time youve been the talk of the office, is it?
– Second time, in fact. A wry smile crossed Paulines lips. Probably not the last. What do they call meproud?
– Yeah. Catherine nodded, then blushed. Sorry.
– Dont be. Theres some truth. Its a shield. I wasnt always like this. Once, I talked and shared like everyone elsechatted about family, kids, silly things over tea. But life taught me. Hard. I found its easier if people know less. Call me cold, work-obsessed, whateverits better than being the subject of every rumour. Though, as you see, it doesnt really help. They just make it up as they go.
– Does it bother you, Pauline?
– Not yes I dont know. I suppose it does. Its sickening, being twisted into fairytales by people who know nothing real about you. But if they did, itd be worse. No way to clear your name after that.
– You really think so? Catherine lowered her eyes.
– Yes. People love their labels.
– Such as?
– Shes the bosss mistress. Got her job on her back. Dim as a box of hammers. And on and on.
– But its not true! Catherine waved her fork.
– Of course not. But why react? Paulines amusement was weary. My mother always told me, good girls are sweet, pleasing to everyone, always a delight. So I was. Until I wasnt.
– Do tell.
– Long story.
– We in a rush? Catherine smiled gently. Im not nosy for the sake of it.
– I know. Pauline tried a forkful of salad and put it down. Sorry, not hungry.
– You should eat. Youre way too thin as it is. Wheres your strength come from?
– Anger, perhaps. Im angry, Catherine.
Catherine blinked.
– Who with?
– Life. Injustice. Myself.
– Why yourself?
– For being foolish. For trusting too easily.
– Paulineplease, our conversation stays here. Between us.
– You think youre the only one whos been watching? Ive worked some things out about you too. Thats why Im talking to you. Should I be wary of Helen?
– Yes! Catherine barked, with no hesitation. Dont fear her, but dont underestimate her either. Especially
Catherine faltered.
– Especially if the boss fancies you? Pauline smirked, then shrugged. Theres no romance, though Id like there to be. Hes a good man.
– Then why not?
– Because men see the package first, only afterwards whats inside.
– And whats inside? Catherine couldnt stop herself.
– Trouble, Catherine. Responsibility. Baggage. See, I come with a contract. And some would think the terms too tough.
Pauline fished out her mobile and, after a brief scroll, turned the screen.
– My son. Matthew.
A serious boy looked out, about ten, sandy-haired and grey-eyed, a quiet strength in his gaze. Catherine looked up.
– Hes beautiful. Waithow old are you? You look so young!
– Not as young as you think. I had him at nineteen.
– Why do you say hes a tough condition?
Pauline scrolled again. The next photo explained. Matthew, grinning widely, sat in a wheelchair holding a massive ginger tom.
– Now you see.
Catherine only nodded.
– What happened? Will he get better?
– Not fully. Hell never be like other kids. But he tries to walk. Huge progress for him. And hes cleverso bright. Pauline pocketed her phone with a sigh.
– Youre strong, Pauline.
– Im not. I have to pretend I am. If not for my father and Matthew, Id have crumbled ages ago. My boys keep me afloat.
– Your mum?
– She died a year after Matthew was born. She was wonderfulwanted me married with a house full of grandchildren. Such beautiful ones! shed always say, scrimping on herself so I could have the prettiest dresses.
– She was right, you are gorgeous! Catherine blurted.
– Maybe, but beauty never brought me happiness. People pinched my cheeks for being cute, but never took me seriously. My mum thought I didnt need an education, just a good marriage. Thank heaven my dad disagreed. He and I insisted on university, and then I met Simon.
– Your ex?
– Yes. My firstand probably lastlove. I was swept away, didnt even know what hit me. Like standing in the eye of a hurricanepeaceful inside, chaos all around. One wrong step and youre lost
– The eye of the storm Catherine murmured.
– Is that the right term? Pauline grinned. Anyway, Simon was the storm. Took charge of my life, made me drop out. Didnt want a clever wife, just a pretty one. He was much older. I was still a girl. Mum adored him. I wore the veil three months after we met, then learned I was pregnant right after the wedding. Then the nightmare began.
– Why?
– Simon did not want children. Not ever. But he wouldn’t let me leave either. He gave me an ultimatumhim or the baby. When I refused – Paulines lips tightened. No need to dwell. We split the moment he heard about Matthews condition. Tried to pressure me into abandoning the babyoffered me everything. When I wouldnt, he called me the strangest woman on earth and promised to throw me out if I ever crawled back.
– But you never did.
– Of course I didnt. My feelings for him vanished the moment he said he wouldnt raise a freak. Claimed he couldnt have a child like that; must be someone elses.
– What a bastard.
– Perhaps. Or maybe just hurt. Who wants to be second choice? Pauline twirled her teacup, then stopped to examine the bottom.
– Whats up? Catherine asked, puzzled.
– I love pretty crockery. Was looking at the mark. These cups are unusual. You know, I could spend hours in a china shop. I have too much of it, but theres always room for something new. Except my favourite mugmum gave me that one. Nothing replaces it.
– I have one, toomy mums. Well, I nicked it when I moved out. I drink my Saturday coffee from it.
– And the rest of the week?
– Not enough time! Catherine grinned. Im such a sleepyhead in the mornings, I always rush. So its work coffee for me
– Dreadful, isnt it? Pauline made a face. My father would have a fit if he knew. He insists on brewing his own, never lets me near the pot. I know all his secrets, but still cant get it right.
– Does he help you, then?
– Every day. He and Matthew are inseparable. If it werent for Dad, I cant imagine how wed cope. He used to seem so stern, always workinghe was career armybarely at home when I was little. But after Matthew, I saw a different side to him. Hes my rock.
– Why did you say youve dealt with office gossip before?
Pauline sighed.
– I was working for a medical equipment firm thena big one. Good prospects. The owner was a family friend; no one else would have hired me, fresh from uni. You know the drill: Seeking graduate, three firsts, under twenty, magically decades of experience. I couldnt get anything for nearly a year until he helped. Pay was modest, the work great. Dad watched Matthew. Then I made a catastrophic error.
– Which was?
– Matthew needed a new wheelchair. The government provides one, but theyre basicno good. Dad widened the doors at home, fitted rails, made everything safer for him. But the right wheelchair is freedom, independence. As soon as Matthew got it he improved, worked harder, tried walking. And when some at work found out, the rumours started. While I rejoiced as Matthew progressed, they spun wild stories about me. By the time I found out, it was too late. They even claimed Matthew was the bosss child. The owners wifewho knew usdidnt believe a word, but I still couldnt go on. I left. Decided from then to stand alone, no favours. Thats how I ended up here. But herethe same old story.
– Why let them? Catherine pushed her dessert away. Why do you even care?
– What else can I do? Pauline shook her head. Deny it and just make the story stick harder.
Catherine pondered.
– Enough gloom! Pauline poured the last of the tea. Something good for a change! Im thinking of buying a new car. Well, new-ish. Cant afford brand new, but second-hand terrifies me. Know anyone trustworthy who could help? Dads a bit useless with motors, and I havent a clue.
– Dont need anyone you knowIll do it for you! Catherine grinned.
– What, really?
– Of course! My dads a mechanic, owns a garage chain out in Kent. Growing up, it was just Dad, Grandma, and meno Mum, stepmum only came when I was thirteen. I spent all my childhood in the garage
– And your mum?
Pauline asked with such quiet gentleness that Catherine didnt hesitate.
– I was a difficult birth. I survived, she didnt.
– And your stepmum?
– Went nowhere. She wanted her own kids. I was never wanted.
– Your dad?
– He loved her. And he loved mestill does. Helps me lotspaid for the flat, my studies. Hes got a new family now, two kids. We dont see much of each otherhes more needed there. Im a grown-up now.
Pauline nodded, somber.
– Wise.
– Hardly. I do miss him, if Im honest, and I do get jealous. But I understandits right.
– Anywaylets talk cars this weekend.
They settled it then.
Pauline bought her next car within a week. Two weeks later, Catherine waited in the car park, watching Pauline step from the lift beside Mr Rowland, chat with him a moment, then head over, leaving the director rooted behind her.
– What was that about?
– Told him we wont be seeing each other outside work.
– You told him about Matthew?
– Yes.
– What did he say?
– Oh, Catherine, what else? Pauline drew herself up. Lets be honest: what more does a womans confidence need than a little male attention? Am I right?
– True! Catherine echoed with a sad smile. Although, proper wooing mightnt go amiss.
– Serious relationships arent the cards for me, Cat. My consequences arrived long ago. By the way, Matthews asking when youll visit. Still says youre the best online gaming partner.
– Ive got him a new game.
– Please, no! Hell be glued to it.
– He loves drawing. I got him a new sketchpad, tooone of those chunky ones. Did you see the art he did for the old game?
– I havent.
– He showed me. Too shy to show you, but proud as anything! If you want to know, youll have to ask him.
– Understood! Pauline winked, pulling out of the carpark.
Days later, Catherine would visit and Matthew would proudly flash his brand-new gaming laptop. Pauline would feign outrage, eyes wide, wagging a finger in mock scold. And when Catherine, whispering conspiratorially in the kitchen, asked about it, Pauline would finally allow herself the bright, blazing-eyed grin that transformed her entire face:
– Ive no idea yet, Cat. Its terrifyingmakes my skin crawl! But is it wrong to hope?
– The only danger is not to hope! Catherine agreed.
A year later, standing by Matthew as he held himself upright through the whole ceremonyignoring the wheelchair, just in caseCatherine whispered to him:
– Proud of your mum?
– Absolutely! Matthew beamed, watching his mother, radiant in long white, signing her new name beside Mr Rowland.
Already tuning out the registrars words, Matthew leaned towards Catherine.
I think I just found a great idea for a new game story.
– Sounds like what Roly saysyoure a genius. Whats it about?
– A powerful goddess; proud, brilliant, who overcomes everything to save everyone.
– So a game about your mum! High time. Make it epic, all right? Catherine waved at Pauline. Can I tell her?
– Youd better not! Matthew wrinkled his nose, but seeing Catherines grin, smiled too. Youd never betray me, Cat. Promise youll help?
– Always! Catherine nodded, giving Pauline a gentle wink as she whisked her wedding bouquet, a silent promise passing between friends.
