The Christmas Party (12 page)

Maybe she should have got herself a puppy or a kitten to keep her company, but when they moved about so much it was difficult to take a pet with them. So she’d taken lovers instead. They’d generally been much easier to leave behind.

Yet she’d now become involved with Tyler Benson. It had started at a Fossil corporate event, much like this. Tyler flirted, he couldn’t help himself. It was obvious that he was trying to keep the chairman’s wife sweet, and why not? They’d chatted about Fossil Oil too and he was bright enough to know that she could be a useful ally. Initially, he seemed surprised how much she knew about the oil business, about Lance’s dealings. Perhaps that was part of the attraction too.

A few days later, at his suggestion, they’d met for lunch in a quiet hotel in London. A secluded table. There’d been more flirtation, but she’d also given him the inside track on Lance’s thinking about some of the key projects. They did lunch twice more, lingering longer each time. After the third time, they played footsie while they perused the menu, then skipped lunch altogether and Tyler booked a hotel room. That was six months ago and they’d managed to meet up almost weekly. It was the one day out of seven that she most looked forward to. It gave her something to live for.

Tyler made the blood fizz in her veins again. Parts of her that she thought were long dead were vibrant, excited once more. It wasn’t that she was quite on the last descent on to the runway of old age, but her landing-gear was certainly lowered. Her auburn hair was kept that colour purely due to chemical intervention. The wrinkles on her forehead and round her eyes and mouth were similarly banished. Her skin benefited from the most expensive anti-ageing cream money could buy.

Tyler had made it clear from the very start what their relationship was about, but that didn’t make it any easier. He told her that he loved his wife – very much – that their affair was just for fun. He’d been crystal clear about that.

But, somewhere along the line, it had gone wrong. She’d fallen in love with him. How very foolish was that?

Her lover sat down next to her and, as he pulled his chair in, she slid her hand surreptitiously on to his thigh. Under the tablecloth, he placed his hand on top of hers and turned his hundred-watt smile on her. Suddenly, the world was a better place.

‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he said.

‘Me too.’

‘Where the hell have you been, Tyler?’ Lance barked.

Tyler beckoned to a waiter who was making a last bolt towards the kitchen and swiped a glass of champagne from his tray. ‘I got talking to Davidson about the refinery problems.’

‘So you
have
been to hell,’ Lance said sympathetically.

‘Tell me about it.’ Tyler swigged down the fizz.

‘We should talk about that later,’ she whispered to Tyler. ‘I’ve had some further ideas that might help to keep the costs down. I tried to talk to Lance about them, but he’s not listening.’

‘He isn’t listening to much these days,’ Tyler complained.

‘We’ll put our heads together later if we get a chance.’ And, hopefully, more than their heads.

The table was beautifully dressed, with crisp white linen, silver candelabra, shimmering crystal. On each plate there was can ornate silver Christmas cracker.

‘Shall we?’ Tyler said. He picked up his cracker and offered it to her, their fingers brushing each other’s.

Together they tugged and laughed as the contents spilled out on to the table.

‘A fortune-telling fish,’ Melissa said. ‘Just what I always wanted.’

‘Your future’s going to be very bright,’ Tyler said smoothly. ‘You don’t need a plastic fish to tell you that.’

She must remember that Tyler would be under Kirsten’s direct scrutiny tonight and they should be very careful.

Tyler unrolled the green paper crown for her and carefully placed it on her head. ‘Very fetching. It matches your dress.’

Melissa was entirely sure that it didn’t go with one-carat-diamond earrings, but she was prepared to humour him. ‘I don’t seem to have a joke.’

‘I’ll tell you one,’ Tyler said. ‘What does Father Christmas do when his elves don’t meet their sales targets?’

She smiled with good humour. ‘I don’t know.’

‘He gives them the sack.’ Then, still laughing at his own joke, he turned away from her and to his wife. ‘Kirsten, pull your cracker with me.’

‘I don’t really want to, Tyler.’

‘Pull it, Kirsten,’ he urged. ‘Please.’

Reluctantly she held it out to him and yanked on it. A small present fell to the table and Kirsten examined it. ‘A penknife?’

‘The crackers are probably made in Korea or somewhere,’ Tyler said. ‘Perhaps their health-and-safety standards are a little more lax out there.’

Kirsten gave Tyler a threatening look. ‘Could come in useful.’

‘I think I’ll look after that for you!’ he teased, but his accompanying laugh held a nervous edge.

‘I’ll keep it, thank you.’ With a humourless smile, Kirsten slipped it into her handbag.

‘Put your paper hat on,’ Tyler urged.

‘I spent a hundred and fifty pounds getting my hair done.’

‘Put it on,’ he cajoled. ‘It’s Christmas. You’ll look sweet.’

‘I don’t want to look “sweet”. I’m not putting the hat on. End of.’

With a defiant flourish, Tyler unfolded the crown and jammed it on. It was pink and he looked ridiculous.

‘Lovely.’ Melissa saw her husband reach for the bottle of wine again and blocked his move with a smooth, well-practised action. ‘Lance, honey, would you like to pull your cracker with me?’

‘Huh?’ Lance looked up from the glass over which he was hunched. Already his rheumy eyes were glazed over with alcohol. He fumbled to find the cracker and handed it to her. Melissa clasped his fingers round it and together they pulled. The present fell on the floor and she didn’t bother to retrieve it, but she unfolded his festive hat and put it on for him.

‘Don’t forget that you should welcome the staff and say grace, honey.’

‘Don’t fuss, angel,’ he slurred.

The more he drank, the more belligerent he became. But the more he drank, the more chance she had of slipping away un-noticed with Tyler.

‘Melissa’s right, Lance.’ Tyler came to her rescue. ‘You’d better make a move. The natives are getting restless.’

Lance lurched to his feet and staggered towards the stage.

‘Should I go with him?’ Tyler whispered to her, already rising from his seat.

She stilled him with her hand. ‘He’ll be fine.’

Tyler sat down again.

Lance was now front of stage and took the microphone from the stand.

‘Good evening, everyone. I’d like to welcome you all to the Fossil Oil Christmas party,’ he said. ‘It’s been a fantastic year for us all. Profits are up. Business is booming. This evening is to celebrate a new start for our company. There are plans for big changes in the new year, but more of that later. For now, let’s offer up a prayer of thanks to our maker.’

While Kirsten was looking away from them and towards the stage, Tyler whispered to Melissa, ‘“Big changes”?’

She lowered her voice. ‘Yes. I need to speak to you about that too.’

‘You know about this?’ he muttered back.

‘Some of it,’ she admitted.

Tyler tutted at her in exasperation. She knew he liked her to keep him abreast of all developments. Sometimes it annoyed her that it was
all
he wanted to talk about in bed. But then there were times when they sat together curled in the duvet, finishing a bottle of wine and kicking around some of the problems that Tyler was facing at work, just as she’d done with Lance all these years.

‘And he’s going to announce it tonight?’

‘I don’t know. He said not.’ But now it sounded like he would. Sometimes when Lance had been drinking he was a loose cannon.

‘Why am I the only one not in the loop?’ Tyler complained.

‘Lance only found out about it today.’ So he said. ‘As soon as we can get away, I’ll tell you all I know,’ she promised.

On stage, Lance lowered his head. ‘God of goodness, bless our food, keep us in a pleasant mood. Bless the chef and all who serve us, and from indigestion, Lord, preserve us. Amen.’

A mumbled ‘Amen’ came back from the staff.

Lance made his way down from the stage and, as one, hordes of waitresses who’d been waiting in the wings swarmed in to serve their starter of soup. It was probably all that Melissa would manage to eat. These dinners were always loaded with carbs and none of those had passed her lips since the eighties.

She shook out her napkin, which read
Merry Christmas to One and All
, and spread it across her lap. Her soup was put in front of her and, just as Tyler was about to be served, Lance lurched past and stumbled into the waitress, who cried out. Tyler turned to see what was happening at the same moment that the plate she was carrying was knocked out of her hand, tipping it up so that the soup splashed out of it and splattered all over the front of Tyler’s dinner shirt.

He jumped back with a startled cry and Melissa rushed to his aid, frantically dabbing at him with her
Merry Christmas to One and All
napkin. His face was like thunder.

‘That bloody husband of yours,’ he hissed under his breath. ‘He’ll be the death of me.’

‘It’ll be fine, Tyler,’ she soothed, keeping her back to Kirsten. ‘Trust me. Everything will be fine.’

Chapter Thirteen

Tyler was beginning to wish that he’d come down with some deadly illness. Well, perhaps not deadly, just something debilitating for twenty-four hours. Anything rather than be at this party. He’d hardly touched his soup, mainly because there was more of it on his shirt than in the bowl. Before he could finish the rest, the waitresses came to clear the table for the main course.

The bizarre thing was that he’d been looking forward to this do. He was held in high regard by the staff of Fossil Oil and it was good to show a united front with them. It helped to loosen up relations. Despite what Lance said, this year had been tight for sales, everything was getting harder and he thought it would be good to let his hair down for a couple of hours, get him in the mood for Christmas.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

The table they were on was filled with excruciatingly dull people. There was Kelvin Shaw, head of finance. Bore. Shaun Thomson, who ran Alternative Fuels. Nightmare. Then there was Stephanie Lewison, who headed up the research laboratory. Her partner was a woman, which Tyler had suspected all along. No wonder she’d proved resolutely immune to his charms.

This lot certainly weren’t going to prove to be a laugh a minute. Which was a shame. He’d hoped that he and Kirsten could have fun tonight, throw themselves into the Christmas spirit – God knew there was enough of it flowing in here – and perhaps start to get back to how they used to be. They hadn’t been out together in a long time and, while his wife might have preferred a romantic dinner to the Christmas party, it was a start.

He wanted to give Kirsten a great Christmas this year. In fact, she was demanding it and he felt duty-bound to deliver. All that fuss with Debbie had unsettled her. He’d smoothed it over, obviously, but there was nothing like a few strategically timed diamonds to win over a woman’s heart again. It was Christmas Eve tomorrow, so he’d have to find an hour to run out to the shops in the city to buy her something or, preferably, get Louise to do it for him.

He loved Kirsten. He was sure he did. Who wouldn’t? She was a beautiful woman. It was just that there was so much else going on in his life.

Take Melissa here. She was stroking her hand up and down his thigh under the table and he really, really wished that she wouldn’t. Kirsten was in a very weird mood tonight and it seemed to be getting worse, as if all her senses were on red alert. One wrong move and it could all end badly for him.

Melissa was a mistake. He knew that now. She was an attractive woman, there was no doubt about it. But she was high-maintenance and she was Lance’s wife to boot. He shook his head at his own folly. If you played with fire like that, the likelihood was that you were, at the very least, going to get your fingers burned. Now he was quite worried for other parts of his anatomy too.

All he’d wanted was to find out a few of the chairman’s secrets from her, and in that regard their affair had been very lucrative, but now the risks were too high. He’d enjoyed talking to her about the business. She’d become the confidante that he’d never had before and that had been a bonus he’d never expected. Yet now she seemed to be falling in love with him, and that could never, ever happen.

He’d told her the score. She knew that, in his own way, he adored Kirsten and that there was no one else for him but his wife. He might have the odd fling, but they didn’t matter. He thought Melissa would understand that, play the game. Now Tyler wanted to break it off, but there was an addiction on his part too. It was useful to know all of Lance’s thoughts about the business, and on more than one occasion Melissa’s insider knowledge had given him the edge in a meeting. That would be hard to give up.

But there was something going on at Fossil Oil that he wasn’t party to. Melissa had just confirmed as much. Lance was being very secretive at the moment and that didn’t bode well. Tyler was his right-hand man, the wily, youthful Robin to Lance’s ageing Batman. He should be all-knowing. If he didn’t have a clue what was happening, who’d be there to catch the ball when Lance inevitably dropped it?

There was general chatter at the table, but Tyler was struggling to join in. He was distracted, on edge. Lance was worrying him as well. Even for Lance he was half-cut too early in the evening, and there was a long way to go before bedtime.

‘Pass the other bottle of wine, Tyler,’ Lance said, across his wife.

He and Melissa exchanged a worried glance.

‘Are you sure?’ Tyler whispered.

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

Tyler shrugged and reached for the bottle at the other end of the table which hadn’t been touched. He passed it down to the chairman, who proceeded to glug it into his glass.

Under the table, Melissa’s hand wandered higher up his thigh.

He glanced across at his wife, who was looking particularly stunning tonight. Sometimes Kirsten complained that he didn’t notice her. And sometimes she was right. He took her for granted, he knew that. But she was a woman who had everything she wanted. She only had to ask and it was hers. Wasn’t that what most women desired? She didn’t have to worry her pretty little head about anything. If she needed money, he gave it to her. Everything in the house was done for her. If anything broke, she just picked up the phone and called Fossil Oil’s maintenance department and it was sorted. She didn’t even need to touch the garden, someone came in to do that. Kirsten’s life was a bed of roses.