The Boss Part 5

In which we learn about Jackie’s past; someone else gets caught in the backlash, and we understand a little of Nick’s split personality.

Part 5 of 8 - Confession

I started tentatively. Cathy had obviously worked out that I’d had a bad experience. She certainly got that one right.

“This job came out of the blue, and not before time, as I was fast running out of money. I’d already decided that I never wanted to put myself through the trauma of another relationship; I decided that I must grow old alone. I thought my childhood, or rather my Uncle Jack and my parents, well and truly screwed up any chance I ever had of happiness. I still have bad dreams sometimes; I have done for more than ten years.

“Although an only child, I‘d been a reasonably happy-go-lucky one. When I started secondary school, I had a lot of friends and not a care in the world. All that changed one fateful day when I was thirteen. Mum and Dad were away for the weekend and I had to stay with Mum’s sister and brother-in-law, Aunt Mary and her husband, Uncle Jack. All had seemed fine until the Saturday afternoon when Auntie had run out of flour and gone to the shops. I mean; just how long can it take to buy one bag of flour?

“That had left me alone with The Animal — that’s what I called him — and that had happened. I called him The Animal as that was the only way I could deal with it, by trying to make him nameless and faceless — although that leering face, that knew I could never win against it, will haunt me to my dying day.

“I’d always been taught to tell the truth, so I went home and told Mum and Dad. Imagine my horror when they said that it couldn’t have happened, I’d made it all up and I was soundly beaten for being an attention-seeking liar. Mum and Dad spent more and more time away from home and I had to spend even more time with Aunt Mary and The Animal. I’ve often wondered if Auntie knew what was going on, but was too weak to do anything about it.

“I didn’t even think of going to see our family doctor. He was ancient anyway and would very likely have sided with my parents. He’d have probably told them that I’d had underage sex with some boy.

“My schoolwork suffered and I became rebellious. My parents couldn’t or wouldn’t understand why. I started sleeping around, but had great difficulty sustaining any relationship beyond a few days. This wound Mum and Dad up and they kept asking me why I was doing it; I gave up trying to explain. Whenever I got onto the subject of Uncle Jack, I got another telling-off and, sometimes, a beating. They eventually put it down to my being a teenager. I had nobody to talk to; all my so-called friends, apart from Emmy and Richard, had deserted me — and I couldn’t confide in them for some reason. I was so angry with my parents for just ignoring me that I left home as soon as I could, and would rather see them dead than go back to live with them. I got the first job I could find and spent nearly all my wages on the rent for a crummy bed-sit. Maybe if he’d got me pregnant, I’d have something to show for the pain. It might have stopped, or Bastard and Stupid might have listened — although, knowing them, they’d have just called me a tramp and thrown me out anyway.

“When Eddie found me in the typing pool I grabbed at his attention like a lifebelt and threw myself at him. He no doubt was flattered — until it came to my being the domestic goddess. I just couldn’t do it; I couldn’t perform.

“The marriage went downhill fast and my life wasn’t fitted with brakes. I tried to tell Eddie about my past and asked him to be patient with me. He wanted a quick fix and got some fancy lawyer to annul the marriage. So I was out on my ear — from our house, Eddie’s life and my job. That’s about it really.”

Cathy looked increasingly horrified, gasping when I told her what Uncle Jack had done. I didn’t actually mention sexual abuse. I didn’t have to; she’s not stupid. Odd really; she seemed like the big sister I never had, and I opened up to her a lot easier than I’d ever done to anyone, even Emmy, whom I’d known for years.

When I’d finished, I was still in tears. Cathy came round the chair and hugged me through my despair. I was still rather tense; perhaps I thought that she might try to take advantage — but she didn’t. She just held me as I cried and made little soothing noises. She handed me some water. This calmed me a little and I began to get myself under control.

Eventually, I was all cried out, and she suggested that I just go home. Part of me wanted to do just that; yet another part just wanted to keep busy, in the hope that it might take my mind off our conversation.

“Cathy? Do you have a really big job I could do to take my mind off things for a couple of days?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then how about making a start on the team results for the last quarter?”

“Perfect.”

We left the office and I went to the ladies room again so I could make myself a bit more presentable. Didn’t want to frighten the horses, did I?

Monday rolled around and Nick was back. I was sure that I would need to spend a lot of time with him, whatever the decision about the expansion plans. I wasn’t wrong; he’d produced a couple of dozen pages of report, flowcharts, budgets, costs, and more and wanted to present them as a slide show to senior management as soon as possible. This suited me as it kept me busy for most of the week, and meant I rarely had to interact with anyone else. Nick made an appointment with his boss for the Friday morning.

Ian Hazelton visited again on the Tuesday afternoon to see Nick and stopped by my desk. “Hello Jackie; have you thought any more about what we discussed last week?”

Discussed? You asked, I panicked

“I…I’m sorry, Ian,” I stammered, “I’m just not ready for anything social.”

“Can I call you in a week or two?”

Is he thick? Can’t he take a hint?

“IAN; CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE IT?”

He visibly flinched from my verbal assault.

Then I realised what I’d been thinking. After all, he was paying me a compliment and he couldn’t know about my disastrous background. “I’m sorry I shouted; relationships are a sensitive subject.”

He shook his head as he walked away, muttering something like “I’ll never understand women”.

I sat with my head in my hands. I glanced up at Cathy and she smiled weakly in sympathy. She got up when Ian had gone, and came over to me.

“Still too raw?”

I nodded.

“It’ll work out.”

But what do I do about…”

“What exactly did Nick say?”

“He said, “Debbie really likes me”.”

“That doesn’t have to mean ‘in a relationship sense’, does it?”

“I suppose not, but what did he mean?”

“You could ask him.”

“God! No!”

She again gave me a little encouraging smile. “It’ll work out,” she said as she returned to her desk.

On the Friday, I was back into a more or less normal routine. Nick spent all day with senior management, and then took most of the next week to visit other department heads, such as production, distribution and premises.

I was pleased to be able to avoid him for several days but, inevitably, we were brought together for a team briefing about his Irish trip. He spent a lot of time outlining the pros and cons and, when the meeting broke up, and I’d gathered my notes, he asked me to stay. He closed the door and we both sat down.

“How would you feel about coming to dinner again, just you, me and Debbie?”

I didn’t know what to say; I felt like someone had just tripped me as I was taking a leisurely Sunday stroll.

“Nick, I…I’m not sure.”

“You’ve no need to be afraid of us; we don’t eat guests,” he said, gently.

It took me several minutes to calm down enough to think. Nick, bless him, said nothing — just smiled reassuringly. For some absurd reason, the expression ‘When in a hole, stop digging’ came to mind. But did that apply to him or to me?

“You’ve had trouble making friends, haven’t you? Girlfriends are usually safe but men can be difficult, especially if you feel threatened in any way.”

Has Cathy blabbed? If he’s just perceptive, then he’s missed his true vocation; he should be a psychiatrist

I nodded and bawled like a baby. Nick magically produced a box of tissues from somewhere and I grabbed a handful of them. “Nick, h…how did you know?”

“I spend a lot of time observing other people. You seem to be vulnerable; Debbie and I both think a lot of you and you’re very important to us, and especially to me.”

Then what he said finally sank into the scrambled mess I called a brain.

Important to him? Personally or as a colleague?

Crap! This is complicated. Oh, I’ve said that before, haven’t I? Well, it is; I never imagined that getting an apparently simple job could involve so much hot water, with me up to my neck in it. I tried coherent thought; I didn’t do it often, hence my abysmal track record. “Nick, I….”

“Sshh; no need to say anything,” he said, gently. “Take your time, there’s no pressure. Take everything at your own pace.”

He hadn’t tried to touch me, but his warm smile seemed to put me at ease. He waited for me to compose myself, then he opened the door and I followed him out of the office.

The next week was like a fairground ride. One minute, I was up in the clouds, happy that someone wanted to spend time with me; then I’d be down in the dumps because I didn’t know what I felt about Nick/Nikki and Debbie wanting to spend time with me. During all this, I’m sure that my work suffered; and I still didn’t know whether Nick was Nikki or Nikki was Nick. Neither did I know how I felt about Nick’s revelation that “Debbie really likes me,” whatever that meant.

The week went by, and Nick hadn’t mentioned the dinner evening; I suppose that the ball was in my court. I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to accept the invitation, nor did I have the courage to make the decision. I know that I hadn’t felt threatened when there’d been eight of us, but I was by no means sure that I’d be comfortable with just the three. Or was it that I felt distinctly inferior in the presence of these two stunningly beautiful women, one of whom was ostensibly my male boss?

Thoughts were bouncing around in my head, which was doing a terrific impression of a demented pinball machine. I had to ask everyone at least twice what they’d said.

I knew that I eventually had to give Nick an answer. A few days later, I hesitated as I delivered his coffee. I’d thought about what I was going to say; that in itself makes a change. “Nick; I…I’ve been thinking about the dinner. You seem quite perceptive; you appear to have worked out that I had a bad experience as a child. I take ages to get to be comfortable with anyone, and don’t find it easy socialising with men or small groups. I’m much more at ease with women than with men, unless I’ve known them a very long time and feel safe with them. I’ve thought about the evening when Judy and I visited and realise that I did enjoy my time with you all. I…I’d like to come to dinner if… it’s still okay, if Nikki’s there and not Nick. I don’t know why, but I don’t think that’s like….”

“Jackie; are you sure that you want to do this? I…we don’t want to hurt you, that’s the last thing we’d want. Please say if you have any doubts.”

“No; this is something that goes right back to my childhood. Cathy knows; I had a bit of a breakdown while you were away and she was very kind to me. I need to deal with this and move on.”

He smiled, encouragingly. “Would Friday evening suit you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll let Debbie know. Smart casual as it’s just us three women.”

In response to a questioning glance, he said, “Nick doesn’t have a social life, and would be extremely uncomfortable being thrust into one. Is that Okay?”

He speaks of Nick in the third person, as someone else; almost as if Nikki is the real person and Nick is just for work. Odd. And he seems to want my approval? Even more odd.

I nodded and he smiled again as he opened the office door.

I almost laughed at his telling me the ‘dress code’ — but held myself in check and, shaking my head, I walked back to my desk. It was much later that the reality of that to which I’d agreed finally and fully sank in.

Breakfast at Winter Road; sounds like a movie title, doesn’t it?

“You’re WHAT?”

I actually sniggered as I repeated what I’d said. “I’m going to dinner with Nikki and Debbie on Friday evening.”

Judy’s coffee cup hit the saucer with enough force to slop most of the remaining contents over the table; Spook shot out of the kitchen and sought refuge behind the settee in the living room. That is still one jumpy moggie; God knows how long it’ll take to calm him down this time. Judy got up, giving me a filthy look. As she went to find a cloth to mop the table, she called, “They want you to go on your own?”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m going on a long expedition to search for some wild carnivorous tribe deep in a rain forest, is it?”

“How can you be so calm about it?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself.”

I’d recently expanded what I’d previously told her. I came home one day and gave her a comprehensive account of the last twelve disastrous years. The aftermath played out like an abbreviated version of that which happened in the office, and Judy again started talking Kevin and violence; only, this time, the list of potential victims grew alarmingly. Somehow, I just couldn’t see her Kevin involved in anything like that; he didn’t appear to have an angry bone in his body. I firmly shook my head.

I felt a little calmer as I worked through the next few days. My tension level increased again, though, as I stood and surveyed my clothing collection and steeled myself for the upcoming ordeal. Okay, it wasn’t really an ordeal, but I certainly had an inferiority complex as I scanned my clothing collection, and looked for something smart casual. Okay, I shouldn’t try to compete with those two glamorous creatures — I couldn’t compete with Cathy Hungerford — but I’m a woman and I have to make an effort, don’t I?

To me, smart casual equals skirt and top, so I settled on an aqua cap-sleeved top with a deep plunge vee-neck; I teamed that with an above-the-knee pleated blue denim skirt with embroidery on the hem. Low-heeled navy sandals begged to go with that outfit so, eventually, I grabbed a jacket, slung my bag over my shoulder, waved goodbye to Judy and walked out to the taxi.

Her parting words rang in my ears; “You’ve got your mobile. Call if things get rough.”

I couldn’t see how a dinner for three in that mansion could get ‘rough’, but then the phrase ‘ménage a trois’ leapt from one side of my brain to the other - quite an achievement considering the darkness of space. I shrugged and got into the taxi.

I made my first mistake when the front door was opened. “Hello… Nikki?”

She laughed. “You might well be uncertain, given how much alike we look, but Nikki is head chef tonight; I’m just the chef’s assistant and gopher; you know, ‘chop this onion, peel this carrot, go for the wine, get the door; that kind of thing’.”

Oops!

She kissed my cheek and said, “I’m so pleased that you could make it. Oh! I love the embroidery on your skirt.”

Debbie wore a cerise cap-sleeved top and a white skirt with a cerise floral design. I was sure that I’d seen them before but couldn’t figure out just when and where. After relieving me of the flowers I’d brought, she led me into the kitchen.

Nikki, her sparkly turquoise top and white miniskirt protected by an apron, stood up from the oven and smiled a welcome. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, leaving a lingering fragrance of Estée Lauder, and then presented me with a glass of wine. I wasn’t sure that I was at all comfortable with a kiss on the cheek from Nikki, but it all took place so quickly; she was back to her cooking while my mind was still processing the event.

Debbie showed me into the living room and I was stunned by the sheer size of it. I’d briefly been in the room on my previous visit, but hadn’t fully taken it in. It looked different when there weren’t eight of us.

Three massive settees were positioned around a large low table. On the wall was a huge television, and in each of the four corners of the room was a loudspeaker. Cone-shaped and thigh-high, with two metal disc thingies on top, their quirky design blended well with the modern spaciousness of their surroundings. Completing the audio-visual setup was a DVD player on a stand; I thought that it’d look quite at home on the bridge of the ‘Starship Enterprise’.

“Those are Nikki’s toys; she’s the techno queen. I just press a few buttons on the remote control.”

Whatever. It looked like these siblings weren’t short of money. This was serious stuff; we’re talking tens of thousands of pounds worth of entertainment system. I know, because my father had lusted after something similar “when I’ve made my fortune.”

Yeah, right; he can’t even make a cup of tea

Debbie invited me to sit alongside her; all that space and we were squashed together on a seat built for four. It didn’t take long for her to start talking, and I just sat there while she regaled me with stories of their childhood. It was all about Debbie and Nikki, not Debbie and Nick, and sounded a little rehearsed, almost as though she’d told someone all this on a previous occasion.

I was quite relieved when Nikki announced that dinner was ready; I still felt somewhat overwhelmed by the opulence of the house and by the two very beautiful women whose guest I was. Debbie and I walked back out to the kitchen and asked if there was anything we could do. We were instructed to sit, and Nikki joined us as we ate our starters, a beautifully-presented smoked fish dish.

Nikki brought in the main course, succulent chicken breasts in a white wine sauce. Debbie followed with dishes of rice and vegetables. A bottle of white wine occupied a space in front of us.

Dessert was a simple strawberry mousse, after which Debbie cleared the table, and we all adjourned to the living room for coffee and a chat. I was certainly glad that the meal had been quite light. I was given more space this time and occupied one of the other settees.

Nikki sat down next to Debbie and poured herself some more wine. “Has Debbie been telling all my secrets while I was slaving away in the kitchen?”

“I heard a little about your childhood. The way Debbie put it, Nick existed only when he had to.”

She responded, “That about sums it up. I didn’t expect her to tell you all the gory details before we eat, but I did ask her to start our story.”

I was stunned into near-total silence by their after-dinner revelations. I’m sure my facial expression showed this. “Is it true?”

Nikki sighed. “It’s true.”