Time After Time (7 page)

‘Yes, I received the documents and we’re all ready for you on Monday, Hayley. We’re looking forward to you starting with us.’ Ronald Simpson’s voice had an unmistakably genuine smile in it, and Hayley struggled not to jump up and down.

‘Thank you, Mr. Simpson, thank you so much.’ She grinned like a maniac as she stood in the hallway of her parent’s house, ear pressed to the phone, cord wrapped tightly around her fingers. She could hardly wait to start her a training contract at their Westminster offices.

‘So, how will you spend your last weekend of freedom?’ he said.

‘I’m moving in with my best friend.’ Hayley grinned again. ‘She’s coming over to give me a hand with the boxes.’

It wasn’t just the beginning of a new chapter in her life, it was an entire new book. The thought of living with Ellen in her quaint two-bedroom basement flat on Avenue Road in Ealing was deliciously exciting. It had a small kitchen, a decent size living room that had a dining area with enough space to fit a table for four, and a bathroom that even had a proper shower. Ellen’s flatmate had left a few weeks ago to move in with her boyfriend, which Hayley had called ‘perfect bloody timing’.

‘What about Mark?’ Hayley had asked Ellen. ‘Doesn’t he want to move in with you?’

‘I’m not ready,’ Ellen had answered. ‘He’s the love of my life but I don’t want to play house yet.’

Hayley hadn’t argued, she herself felt far too busy for a steady boyfriend. She’d had a few encounters since she’d split up with Chris, but nothing really meaningful. And that suited her just fine.

‘Well,’ Ronald said, ‘in that case, happy moving.’

Right on cue, the doorbell proudly played its over-the-top Big Ben chime, and Hayley heard Ellen shouting, ‘Hello? Anybody in?’ through the letterbox. Hayley quickly said goodbye to Ronald while her father opened the door.

‘Here to steal my daughter away, are you?’ he said, hugging Ellen. ‘Do I have to pay you to take her?’

‘Yes and yes please.’ Ellen said, keeping her face straight. ‘Nah, not really. But never fear, I’ll keep her in check, Girl Guide’s honour. No alcohol, no men. We’ll live like nuns, honest Mr. A. Won’t we, Hayley?’

Stan put his head back and laughed. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll get my shoes and help you with the boxes.’ He looked at Hayley with his hands on his hips. ‘Well, the day has finally come.’

Hayley smiled at him. When Ellen first moved into her flat and Hayley had turned into a green-eyed monster, desperate for her own independence, Stan had sat her down.

‘Sit tight for twelve months. Enjoy being at home, having your clothes washed and your food cooked, and save your money. Trust me,’ he said, and Hayley had begrudgingly agreed.

Now her time had finally come to live like an adult, pay rent, buy food and complain about the price of utilities.

‘Can’t get rid of me quick enough, can you, Dad?’ Hayley said, shaking her head at her father.

‘That’s right,’ Stan said. He gave her a squeeze before rolling up the sleeves of his blue cotton shirt. ‘I have to be sure you’ve really gone and then we’ll turn your bedroom into a gym or something.’

‘Hey.’ Hayley gave Stan a playful punch on the arm. ‘You’ll miss me you know.’

‘I know, poppet, I know. It’s going to be awfully quiet without you and Jackie. Make sure you come back for your mum’s Sunday dinner when you’re not too hung-over, eh?’

‘Come on,’ Ellen said as she bounded over to the stairs, her long ponytail swishing behind her. ‘I’ve only got Mark’s car for the next few hours. Let’s get cracking.’

Ellen, Hayley and her parents emptied her room box by box. She didn’t have much to take, mainly clothes, shoes and make-up, her LP collection, some CDs and books. A box of cuddly toys she’d kept over the years along with a few board games.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to take your bed and dresser?’ Karen asked, helping her put the remaining bits and pieces into a box, while Ellen and Stan carried the packed ones downstairs.

‘No, thanks Mum. Ellen’s lending me a mattress until I get something new.’

‘Well then,’ Karen fished around in her apron pocket, ‘you’d better have this to help you get started.’ She handed Hayley an envelope.

‘What’s this?’

‘Open it and see.’

Hayley pulled out a gift voucher for a hundred and fifty pounds for a big furniture shop. ‘Oh my goodness, this is fantastic. Thank you, thank you,
thank you
.’ She put her arms around her mum and held on tight, suddenly wondering if leaving was such a good idea after all. She swallowed. Time to grow up. ‘Thanks again, Mum. I’ll be able to get everything I wanted and still have some left.’

Karen smiled and smoothed a hand over Hayley’s hair. ‘You’re more than welcome. Now, let’s finish up or we’ll never get you unpacked and settled in at the other end.’

Hayley looked around her bedroom. She saw herself snuggled up in bed, listening to her Human League and Adam and the Ants LPs or swooning over her Duran Duran and Patrick Swayze posters with Jackie and Ellen. She’d spent hours in her room, swotting for her ‘O’ and ‘A’ Levels and, more recently, her law exams. She’d cried over boys and written in tear-stained diaries. She’d grown from child to teenager to young woman. But the time had come to start afresh. A delightful shiver of excitement spread through her body.

Something’s going to happen. Something big. I can feel it.

Hayley woke up with a jump, surrounded by darkness, then she started to shiver. Her legs felt numb and she winced as she straightened her back. She fumbled for her bedside light but couldn’t find it. Then she remembered. Chris’ house. And he’d be returning soon.

As her brain became less jumbled and her senses returned, she realised her eyes were covered with something. She slid it away and groaned as the light coming in through a crack in the curtains hit her eyes, then closed them tight for a second. She opened them again, slowly this time, and looked at the object she’d pulled off her face; a black, silk sleep mask with a crimson strap.

‘Where the hell?’ she said out loud as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, sending the bottle that had been lying next to her spinning across the floor.

Hell it was most certainly not. And it wasn’t Chris’ bedroom either. She was lying on a thick white mat on the floor of the biggest bathroom she’d ever seen.

Hayley rubbed her eyes. Twin sinks that were at least five feet apart and a cabinet above them, equally wide, caught Hayley’s eye first. Then she noticed the spacious glass shower and a cast-iron, claw-foot bath, under which the bottle had disappeared. Soft, plush-looking towels with HG embroidered on them were stacked neatly on built-in shelves. Natural light streamed in through the large, frosted windows.

Where the hell am I? Buckingham Palace?

Hayley winced again as she tried to get up, deciding to stretch out her legs instead. Her toes touched the warm, charcoal-coloured tiles that covered the floor. She looked at her feet, registered the perfect French manicure but couldn’t fathom when she’d had them done.

Her eyes moved to the dressing table with its neatly arranged make-up brushes and pots of high-end creams.

As she got up, she instinctively put her hands to her body and looked down at the ivory nightdress that stopped an inch above her knees.

‘What on earth …?’ Hayley made her way towards the open door leading out of the bathroom, not daring to look left or right. She found herself in a room with a king size bed that had dark-green satin sheets and pillows that resembled giant, springy marshmallows. It all reminded her of
The Princess and the Pea
fairy tale she’d read to Millie dozens of times.

A pristine, beige suede ottoman, which looked like it had never been used, was at the foot of the bed. Across from that, at least fifteen feet away, was a large, solid, wooden desk with two drawers and silver, lion head handles, and a crystal bauble table lamp with a teal lampshade. The abstract, multi-coloured painting hanging above the desk reminded Hayley of the swirly lollipops she and Ellen used to buy for ten pence from Mrs. King’s World of Sweets.

In front of a prominent bay window to the right was a stylish, beige chaise-longue with emerald green cushions complete with a sparkling sequinned peacock design. Green, raw silk, half-open curtains graced the windows and the walls were painted an elegant cream that matched the chaise-longue. Hayley felt her feet disappear up to her ankles in the off-white carpet.

How did I get here? Where
is
here? And what time is it?

Hayley spotted a little gold clock on one of the bedside table. Five minutes to nine. She grabbed a small plastic water bottle next to the clock and took a big swig.

‘Argh!’ She coughed and spluttered. It tasted like gin.

Apart from the bathroom door she’d just come through, there were two others that led out of the room. Hayley rubbed her eyes again, then crept back over to the bathroom, gently opened the closed door next to it, felt around for the light switch and flicked it on.

‘Bloody hell!’

She entered the mother of all wardrobes, fitted with sleek white shelves and cupboards. There were rows upon rows of neatly organised clothes: trousers, skirts, long dresses, short dresses, cocktail dresses, blouses, tops, sweaters. Six wide drawers were filled with exquisite underwear in a range of striking colours and fabrics: lace, satin, silk. And then there were shoes; high heels, kitten heels, sandals, boots, and to the left of those was a rack of handbags.

Hayley noticed the labels on the tiny dresses. Gucci, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, Armani, Thierry Mugler – stuff that wouldn’t fit her if she didn’t eat for a year.

But then she went to pick up one of the dresses and caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.

‘Jesus Christ alive!’ Hayley covered her mouth with her hand.

She moved closer to the mirror, her eyes darting up and down her reflection.

I look …
amazing
. So … thin. Good grief. I’m … I’m flipping gorgeous.

No longer cut in the cropped bob from the previous day, her hair now fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Its rich chocolate brown colour and the golden highlights reflected the sophisticated lighting in the wardrobe.

Even though her nightdress covered most of her body, Hayley could tell by the way it skimmed her hips and stomach that she was slimmer than she’d ever been. Hesitant at first, she slipped the spaghetti straps of her nightdress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Oh my god. Look at my boobs.

Her breasts were large, and as gravity-defying as a teenager’s. Hayley cupped them in her hands and when she squeezed gently, her nipples sprang to attention.

She continued to assess herself in the mirror, her hands gliding over her skin. Her stomach felt as flat and smooth as the tiles beneath her feet and when she clenched her stomach, she saw what she hadn’t had in decades. Abs.

As she tensed her muscles she stretched out a long, lean, smooth leg and ran a hand over her beautifully round bum that felt softer than a peach, utterly devoid of the dreaded cottage cheesy cellulite. She’d been waxed senseless too – her legs, under her arms and her bikini line, or what was left of it, considering it could now be confused with Hitler’s moustache.

A sudden knock on the bedroom door made her grab her nightgown.

‘Are you up yet?’ It was a male voice.

‘Yes of course,’ she answered, dressing in a frenzy as she heard the bedroom door open.

The voice came closer. ‘It’s about time. I brought you today’s paper, I’ll put it on your bed. We leave in two hours for the Fitzpatrick’s reception. I don’t suppose you’ll have a
solid
breakfast.’

‘Wait,’ Hayley said as she ran out of the wardrobe. ‘Where am …?’ The words caught in her throat because, standing in front of her, was Ian Graham.

‘Seriously, those loos were so busy I considered going to the men’s.’ Ellen pushed her way between Hayley and another visitor at the New York Club. ‘Did you get me a drink?’ Hayley handed her a lager and she took a large gulp. ‘Ah, thanks chuck.’

The London club scene was abuzz with new techno, garage and underground clubs, and Ellen always had the inside scoop on what was hot and what was not. Looking around, Hayley decided the NYC, with its circular stainless steel bars and DJs renowned for their mixing talents, was definitely hot.

‘Good pick, Ellen,’ she said over the music. ‘It’s really great.’

Ellen winked at her and nodded.

They’d been living together for more than four months and it hadn’t taken them long to fall into a routine where Hayley shopped and Ellen cooked, and weekends were reserved for partying. Mark came over to the flat frequently and most of the time Hayley didn’t mind.

‘I think you should drop my rent,’ she’d told them one morning. ‘I could hear you two shagging again last night.’

‘Don’t be jealous just because you’re not getting any,’ Mark said with a grin while Ellen hid her face behind the copy of
Cosmopolitan
which, Hayley happened to know, contained an article about blow-job techniques.

Although she didn’t want to admit it, she had to concede Mark made a valid point. She’d been single for ages. Was some hot sex on a regular basis really that much to ask?

‘You look brilliant in that outfit,’ Ellen said, observing her.

‘Thanks,’ Hayley said. She’d chosen a black, sleeveless, knee-length A-line dress with silver straps at the back, and paired it with black knee-high boots with chunky heels. Despite the clothes she still felt uncomfortable in large crowds and almost always avoided mirrors and shop windows. She knew full well she’d only ever be ‘average’.

As she looked around again her eyes landed on a guy standing on the other side of the bar. She shivered slightly as she held his gaze, feeling as if she was being visually undressed.

She started humming ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’ as she observed him. He stood at six feet tall, at least, had short brown hair and a square jaw that exuded confidence. When he lifted an eyebrow she blushed, then looked away. When she looked back their eyes met again, so she smiled. He smiled back and raised his glass.

‘There’s Mark,’ said Ellen, tapping Hayley on the shoulder and pointing a finger. By the time Hayley looked back across the bar, the hunky stranger had disappeared.

*

The following Monday morning Hayley sat in her office, punching holes in a stack of papers, when Ronald came up to her desk. The buttons on his suit strained against the spread of his belly. He always said that Mrs. Simpson made the best apple crumble in England.

‘Hayley, I need a word,’ he said.

She followed him into his office, smoothing her sweaty palms on her skirt. ‘If it’s about that report, I’ll have it done by three.’

‘Today?’ Ronald raised his eyebrows as he sat down, and Hayley nodded quickly.

‘Yes, you said it was quite urgent.’

Ronald chuckled and slowly turned a multi-coloured Murano glass paperweight with his fingers. ‘I said it needed to be ready by the
middle
of this week. That’s outstanding, well done.’

Hayley blushed. Ronald was twenty-five years her senior, distinguished and rather posh, Hayley thought, but in a classy not arrogant way. He drove an old BMW and she knew he had a penchant for Swatch watches – showing off his wealth wasn’t his style.

He sat at his desk and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair opposite. ‘Now, we have a potential new client, a Mr. Ian Graham. He owns various businesses in Edinburgh but moved to London a while ago and also has interests here.’

Hayley nodded.

Ronald continued. ‘He wants to invest in some companies and needs advice on structuring the contracts, due diligence and so forth. We’re meeting him to discuss terms.’ He paused as he looked at her. ‘I’ve assigned Tony and I’d like you to shadow him. How does that sound?’

‘Fantastic. But is Tony okay with it?’

‘Yes,’ Ronald nodded. ‘He specifically asked for you and I think it’s a wise choice. I know he’s very demanding, but you’ll deliver. You’ll make a good team.’

Hayley grinned, surprised Ronald trusted her enough to involve her in the acquisition of a new client.

‘That sounds brilliant. Thank you, Mr. Simpson, I’m really grateful.’

‘My pleasure. Thank you, Hayley.’ Ronald beamed. ‘Mr. Graham will be here in about thirty minutes so make sure you’re easy to find.’

Hayley walked back to her desk and plonked herself down in her seat. Ronald had been giving her more assignments and projects than she could count, and they were getting increasingly interesting and complex.

Thirty-five minutes later Ronald’s secretary ushered Hayley into the boardroom. Tony and Ronald were facing the door and Mr. Graham sat with his back towards her.

‘Ian,’ said Ronald as he got up, ‘Allow me to introduce Hayley Adams. She’ll work with Tony if we’re fortunate enough to represent you.’

Ian turned around and Hayley almost tripped over her own feet. It was him – the guy from the club.

‘Pleased to meet you, Hayley.’ Not even the tiniest flicker of recognition crossed his face as he held out his hand.

Hayley plastered a smile on her face, shook his hand and sat down next to Ronald, thinking she must be about as memorable as plain yoghurt.