The Christmas Party (22 page)

She was a fine girl, Tyler thought. A bit too much of a blabbermouth for him to risk anything with her, but nevertheless quite a looker. If discretion had been one of the cards she was holding, he might have thought differently.

Now he was just wondering how she was currently staying upright. Whenever he’d seen her this evening she’d had a glass in her hand and she was weaving alarmingly. The magician was doing some sort of trick where he made her lie across two chairs, which gave the opportunity for everyone in the front few rows to look up her skirt. At the top, her breasts were barely contained. Two fluffy, marshmallow-like pillows with a life of their own bounced joyfully. Many a red-blooded man must be thinking about burying his head in those.

Tyler skirted around the back of the main body of staff, still looking for Kirsten. He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter. At this stage in the evening, the drink was flowing like a river in flood. Then, without any warning, he pulled up short. Surely his eyes were deceiving him.

Straight ahead of him there was a bloke who looked suspiciously like Simon Conway. The ghost of Christmas past. Tyler shook his head. He must be more drunk than he thought. It couldn’t be Conway. What would he be doing here?

Then, just as he’d convinced himself that he was imagining things, the man turned towards him and it was indeed Simon Conway. Tyler recoiled as if his old friend had punched him in the stomach.

The crowd cheered and Tyler snapped his attention back to the stage. The Magnificent Marvo had pulled the chairs out from beneath Karen from Customer Accounts, who now seemed to be floating on thin air. Tyler knew how she felt. It was as if his legs had been kicked from beneath him and he was no longer grounded in reality. The crowd roared their approval. Tyler was too frozen to do anything but stand and stare.

Conway walked up to him.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Tyler barked. This was no time for pleasantries.

‘Hello, Tyler,’ Conway replied.

As smooth as ever, Tyler seethed inwardly. Now he remembered why he’d hated him so much. When they were friends – and how long ago was that now? – everything had always gone Simon’s way. He had the best mates, the best jobs, the best cars and the best women. No struggling and striving for Conway. Oh no. He only had to blink and everything he wanted fell straight into his lap.

They’d been friends – good friends on the surface of it – but Tyler had never felt it was an equal relationship. When they played sport – squash or golf, whatever – Simon always won. He was the bright star to whom everyone gravitated. There were people in life who had an excess of charisma, and Conway was one of them. Tyler had tried to emulate it in his time. But he didn’t think you could learn charisma; it was something that just oozed from your pores. If you were lucky enough.

Tyler had always been in Conway’s orbit, yet felt as if he hung precariously on to his coat-tails. He picked up the scraps that his friend discarded along the way. Until it came to Kirsten. Tyler laughed to himself. God, Conway had fucked up big-time with that one. With a little help from his good self.

He’d seen his chance when Simon got the position in Australia with Petro Oz. He’d been headhunted, of course: no grubby job-chasing for Conway. No doubt it was a fantastic career move. He just made the slight mistake of leaving the cracking girl he was in love with behind and all alone. It was the first time Tyler had known Simon to take his eye off the ball. And Tyler had been waiting.

All it had taken in the end were a few well-aimed emails. A few late-night-heartbreak calls from Conway were easily swatted away. That was the end of it. So they couldn’t really have loved each other that much, despite all their ‘soulmate’ shit.

Kirsten was devastated. Of course she was. She’d never have looked at Tyler otherwise. All the time she’d been Conway’s girlfriend, she’d only ever had eyes for him. She looked at his rival with such love that it used to turn Tyler’s insides to water with jealousy. He wanted her to look at
him
like that. Even after all this time, after ten years of marriage, he still wasn’t sure she ever had. Yet he, Tyler Benson, had taken the biggest prize. There was no man happier than him the day he’d walked down the aisle with Kirsten on his arm. He had won her away from Conway. If not necessarily fair and square, he had still won her.

Now, after all these years, his nemesis, the monkey on his back, Conway had returned. Here he was, as large as life. It made him want to claw his own eyes out.

Simon held out his hand and reluctantly Tyler grasped it. They went through the motions of a civil greeting, though it was clear that each of the men was sizing up the other. Tyler wondered if, in a pissing contest, he’d come out on top. It might be a close-run thing. He wondered if Kirsten had seen Simon. What would she think about her former lover being back in town?

‘I’ll ask the question again,’ Tyler said, jaw clenched. ‘What are you doing here?’

He glanced around to see if Conway had come as a guest of someone from another department. Perhaps Fossil was doing business with him. Though it seemed a strange idea to bring him to the Christmas party. He’d kept track of Conway’s movements for a few years. His rise in Petro Oz had been meteoric. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d bet a tenner that Conway didn’t have a drunken sot of a chairman to deal with on a daily basis.

‘I’ve joined Fossil Oil, Tyler,’ Conway said.

That knocked the wind out of his sails. ‘What?’

‘I’d hoped that Lance would have spoken to you by now,’ Conway continued.

‘Well he hasn’t.’

Conway tutted. Tyler didn’t like the sound of this at all. Was this the man that Melissa had earlier this evening warned him about? If Conway was to be working for Tyler, then he should have appointed him. Not Lance. What was going on here? Was he losing his grip on the business? He’d always thought he had Lance under his thumb. It didn’t bode well that all along the chairman had been capable of independent thought.

‘I’m the international director.’

‘I should have been consulted on this. I can’t have you working for me.’

‘I’m not going to be working
for
you,’ Conway said. ‘I’m your new boss, Tyler.’

Was that him who just gasped out loud? Surely this was a mistake? Conway was to be his boss? Who had decided that? Lance knew that he had history with him, that there was no love lost. Whatever made him, or anyone, think this was a good idea?

‘Over my dead body,’ Tyler said.

‘I hope it doesn’t come to that.’ Conway gave him a sardonic smile.

On the stage, Karen from Customer Accounts was bowing, bigging up her part. As she left, The Magnificent Marvo was preparing for another trick.

‘We need to clear the air between us, Tyler,’ he said.

Simon looked as if he wanted to punch him. Well, just let him. That would be a good start to his career at Fossil Oil. ‘From where I’m standing the air seems perfectly clear.’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Simon said.

But before he could respond, the crowd started to chant, ‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’

With a smug smile, Tyler turned away from Conway to see what was happening.

Up on stage The Magnificent Marvo was beckoning to him and the staff were shouting
en masse
for him to go along.

‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’ It rang in his ears. They wanted him.

This would show Simon Conway that he was one of the lads. It would mark him out as the most popular man in Fossil Oil. That would give him something to think about. He wasn’t just going to walk in here and kick Tyler Benson around. Oh, no. He had the support and respect of his staff.

Tyler buttoned his dinner jacket. ‘Would you excuse me, Conway? My staff are calling for me.’

‘Tyler, I really don’t think you should.’ Simon turned his gaze anxiously towards the stage.

The staff started to stamp their feet. They wanted him. Only him.

Tyler held up his hand. ‘I know what I’m doing.’ This would be a textbook lesson in how to handle the staff of Fossil Oil. ‘Watch and learn.’

He marched away from Conway. He could hardly bring himself to even think ‘new boss’. Well, fuck Conway. The staff wanted
him
. This would show Simon Conway what he was made of.

‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’ The staff pressed against him, jostling as he fought to get to the stage. To a man – and woman – they were all tanked up now. This sounded more like a gladiatorial tournament than a magic routine. It was only as he got closer to the stage and the sound of the staff’s applause was ringing loud in his ears that he realised what he’d done.

The grinning magician was slowly opening a black box. Then he kick-started a chainsaw and brandished it in the air. The crowd cheered louder. Tyler Benson’s step halted. A gulp travelled down his throat. His blood went very, very cold. It would appear that he’d just volunteered to be sawn in half.

Chapter Twenty-six

Kirsten made her way through the corridors of Wadestone Manor. Everyone else was drunk, staggering about. Girls leaned on each other for support or on men who weaved just as much as they did. Yet there was a purposeful edge to Kirsten’s stride. She was on a mission. A mission to find Tyler and take him home where she could give him a piece of her mind.

She’d had enough of this dreadful Christmas party. Even by Fossil Oil’s usual standards, it had been exhausting and emotionally draining. Also, if she kept her feet moving firmly forward, then she wouldn’t be tempted to turn tail and run back to Simon as fast as she possibly could.

It had flipped her world, seeing him again tonight and finding out that he still loved her, that he had loved her all along. It was going to take a while to regain her equilibrium after that revelation. Now she wanted to go back to her house, wipe the floor with Tyler and then snuggle into her pyjamas, sleep alone in the spare room and blot out this whole wretched evening. She’d never felt lonelier in all her life and just wanted someone to hold her. But not Tyler. She wanted Tyler to stay the hell away from her until she’d calmed down.

Passing through one of the rooms, she discarded her throw, tossing it over a couple who looked like they needed a little more privacy. Oh, to be young and so carefree. To have the ability to lose yourself in another person’s body without pause to consider the complications or consequences.

She didn’t think she’d done that since Simon had left.

At the entrance to the marquee Kirsten pulled up short. There was something going on up on the stage, a magician doing a trick of some kind, but she was too far away to see what. The staff were certainly enjoying it. They were cheering in a boisterous manner, baying for someone’s blood, it seemed. But everyone was crowded on to the dance floor and her view of the entertainment was blocked.

Kirsten scanned the room, looking for her husband in the middle of the fray. That’s where he’d usually be. Melissa and Lance were in a far corner at the side of the dance floor. Lance was slumped sideways and it looked like Melissa was trying to cajole him to do something. They should go home too. Their very presence was now an insult to the staff.

She craned her neck to see if she could locate Louise too, but there was no sight of her either. A frisson of alarm prickled her neck. That didn’t bode well. Why were she
and
Tyler both missing from the party?

The magician was whipping the crowd to a frenzy and, as he raised a chainsaw in the air, Kirsten realised that he must be cutting someone in half. An old trick, but a crowd pleaser none the less. Duly the crowd roared its approval. Well, she certainly didn’t have the stomach to watch that. All she wanted to do was find Tyler and leave.

She turned and got out of there as quickly as she could. The rest of the manor was quiet now that the main attraction was in the marquee, and she made her way down the corridors. The last thing she wanted to do was bump into Simon again. She hoped he’d gone home too. She also hoped that tomorrow he’d tender his resignation from Fossil Oil and leave the country, go back to Texas, or Timbuktu – anywhere she didn’t have to see him again and know that she could never, ever be with him.

She opened the doors to a few rooms, but they were mainly populated by members of staff lost in the throes of passion. In what was obviously the snooker room, in the dim light there was a couple on top of the table, getting very friendly with each other. Kirsten backed out swiftly.

By the time she reached the reception desk Kirsten still hadn’t found her errant husband, but she decided to order a taxi anyway. She’d just go home. Tyler could do whatever he wanted. She asked the woman behind the desk to order one for her and texted Tyler to say she was leaving.

‘There’ll be a car here for you in about twenty minutes,’ the receptionist said as she hung up.

‘Is there somewhere quiet I can wait until then?’

The receptionist pointed to yet another corridor in this rabbit warren of a building, one Kirsten hadn’t been down before. ‘The library is just along there, madam. It’s tucked out of the way a little. That should be quieter for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Kirsten went along to the cloakroom and retrieved her coat. She checked her mobile, but Tyler had yet to reply. And this was a man who was permanently welded to his iPhone. He even disappeared into the shower with it sometimes. Where could he possibly have got to?

Moments later, she found the library and ducked inside. It was a vast room, luxuriously furnished and lined with splendid oak bookcases. The long windows, which probably faced on to the front of the house, were draped with heavy burgundy curtains. It was in darkness apart from the welcoming glow of the roaring fire and lights twinkling from an opulent Christmas tree in the far corner. Kirsten felt frozen to her bones and she rubbed her arms hopefully. It would be good to spend a few moments in here thawing out. She wondered if any warmth would ever reach the chill that was settled deep in her heart.

But as she walked towards the fireplace, she heard a noise. It was clear she wasn’t alone here. So much for a secluded retreat. Every single nook and cranny of this place was filled with copulating colleagues. It looked as if this room too was hosting a ‘team bonding’ session. Perhaps there’d be a boom in Fossil Oil babies in nine months’ time, with lots of children called Holly, Ivy and Tinsel. Oh, well, she’d leave them to it.